Page 23 of Fun at Parties
I cackle and do some quick Googling. As Nate pulls into a gas station, I shove my phone in his face, forcing him to admire photos of the interior: the shelves in the lobby packed with clown figurines, the room with a Pennywise mural painted on the wall next to the bed.
His eyes widen. “I sawIt,and I still didn’t know I was afraid of clowns until I saw this place.”
“I might apply for a job. Jolly and I bonded when he looked into my soul as we drove by.”
Just kidding. Despite everything, I’m committed to working for Tracy. Even if she did recently ask an intern to track how frequently I smile during rides so she can inform me every time I drop below her preferred minimum. Which, in light of recent developments, isn’t as funny as I originally thought.
Nate hops out of the car and slides his wallet from his pocket. I get out too, so I can stretch my legs. “I have a challenge for you,” he says.
“Steal a doll from the lobby? Even I’m not bold enough for that one.”
“Let’s see if you can complain until the tank is full.”
I freeze, mid-lap around the bank of gas pumps. “What?”
He twists off the gas cap. “Once it clicks, you’re off the hook. I bet you can’t do it. Winner gets to pick whichever terrible fast-food place we’re going to regret later.”
“That’s a weird challenge.”
Whatever point he’s trying to make is making me itch. Looking on the bright side has always come naturally to me. In some ways, I absorbed it from my mom, the same way my body probably absorbed the lead in the Jolee lipstick when she used me for party demos.
“You attract what you put out there,” she’d tell the ten friends of whichever neighbor or mom from my high school was hosting that night’s wine and freezer-section-appetizer-fueled gathering. “I’m a full-time mom too. But I took a leap and now I have my own business and the kind of life I once dreamed of. All because I believed it would work out.”
Her problem wasn’t believing. It was what she believed in.
So what if I like to stay positive? It got me through the aftermath of Jolee’s collapse. It’s what people enjoy about my classes, and that makes me feel good. Most of my friends like that I’m bubbly. But Nate’s always treated this facet of my personality like a puzzle he can’t figure out.
I take a cautious step toward him. “What do you want me to complain about?”
“Whatever comes to your mind. Go full stream-of-consciousness.” With the nozzle in the gas tank, he leans against the car. “You better start.”
I throw up my hands. “I don’t have anything to complain about! Probably ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the people on this planet have more to complain about than me.”
“Not a complaint, but you do sound a little huffy, so I’ll count it. Keep going.”
“You’re being annoying.”
He fights a smile. “That definitely counts.”
“Caleb and I broke up,” I blurt out, and Nate’s expression levels out into seriousness. “There was, um, a video. Did you see it?”
“I heard about it,” he admits.
My skin feels transparent, and I have to hug myself to keep going. “It hurt, and it was embarrassing, and everything felt like too much. I didn’t handle it well, so Tracy told me to take a vacation. That’s why I’m doing this trip. Well, not this trip, specifically, because what I imagined was driving cross-country alone and looking at mountains until my head clears. Not that I don’t want to helpyou find Logan—” He raises his eyebrows, a reminder that I’m veering into noncomplaint territory. “I just hope we find him quickly in whatever hellhole club he visits tonight, so I can get back on track. I need to get back on track, because I need to keep my job, and I need to be myself again.”
The gas pump clicks. Weirdly, I feel lighter.
Nate removes the nozzle, and by the time I realize I’m standing between him and the pump, he’s already touching his fingertips to my hip, nudging me to the side so he can hang it up. When he’s done, he doesn’t remove his hand. He just tilts his head and scans my face, and my breath stutters. “You seem like yourself to me,” he says. “Falling in love at first sight with a clown. Whipping me in the face with your ponytail every time you think you see a lizard. Looking out for your friends. Are you sure the problem’s you, and not something else?”
The problem can’t be something else. I can’t controlsomething else,only my own mindset. My lip threatens to tremble, so I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Come on.” I step away. “Let’s go find the least terrible burgers this town has to offer.”
After a greasy lunch and a quick selfie with Jolly (me cheesing hard, Nate grimacing in mock—I think—terror), we get back on the road.
“How are your parents?” Nate asks.
“Good, I think.” My mom calls every Tuesday night while she’s wearing her red-light therapy mask, and Dad says hello without getting on the phone. But I haven’t hadthe energy for them the past couple weeks. “Last month was seven years since the bankruptcy, so it’s officially off their credit reports. Like nothing ever happened.”
