Page 56 of The First Time
"I have to check my schedule."
"Great." She pulls out her cell phone and motions to it. "If I don't see you tonight, I'll text you."
"Yeah. Later." Usually, we hug goodbye. I'm not in the mood today. I nod my goodbye and I march to my car.
The stereo flares with my pop music mix CD. The peppy vocals are grating. I switch to something angry and I white-knuckle the steering wheel all the way home.
I pull the door open with a huff, ready to storm to my room.
But there's this noise. One of those party horns.
"Congrats." Ethan grabs a hot pink party hat and sets it on my head. "Halfway done with the semester." He pulls me into a hug. "You're doing great in school, Pipes. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks." I take a step back and look to Mal, who's standing a few steps behind Ethan. "It's not a big deal."
Mal shakes his head. "It is." He nods to a small, round cake on the counter.
It's so small, the wordsCongrats, Piperbarely fit on the thing.
Still, it's a cake.
My brothers bought me a midterms cake.
I'm not sure which is sweeter—the gesture or the frosting. I better try the frosting to be sure.
Mal gives me a hug. "I know school's hard. I'm proud of you." He squeezes tight then takes a step back. "You want French roast with this?"
"Yes, please." French roast and cake— yum. "Tell me it's chocolate." The frosting is brown.
"Better." Ethan smiles in that boyish Ethan kind of way.
"What's better than chocolate?" I ask.
"Chocolate with mocha frosting," he says.
Sometimes, I really love how over-bearing my brothers are.
* * *
After an evening of cake,coffee, and conversation, I'm in a good mood. Amaybe Rory's boyfriend's party will be funkind of mood. I tell Ethan and Mal I'm hanging with Rory tonight, then I spend an hour texting Kit as I get ready.
We're still not discussing anything important, but he knows I'm at a party tonight. He knows Ethan and Mal are already making plans to go out. He could easily invite himself over. Demand we spend the night in my bed.
I know that won't happen, but it's nice to imagine it.
I dress cute— a crop top, a tight skirt, boots—and fix my hair and makeup. It's spring break. I feel good.
All the way to my car, I feel good.
The entire drive to Carter's place, I feel good.
The second I step inside his single story house... not so much.
There's loud rap music blaring and it's dim. The only light in the house is coming from the kitchen.
Still, I can tell the place is a mess. There are bags and hoodies and dirty plates all over the ground and table.
And there's Carter and his friends on the couch, passing around a joint. He looks like he walked out of Vans ad, if Vans ads featured okay looking guys who didn't know how to skate or surf.
