The Beginning of After - By Jennifer Castle Page 0,27

on a Hello Kitty pad.

“Vodka tonic?” It was my dad’s drink, every Friday night before dinner.

Joe mixed one for me, then one for himself, totally guessing on how much Smirnoff to put in. It hissed at me as I put it to my lips, bubbles hopping. It tasted sweet and dangerous. I started to go back upstairs, but Joe grabbed my hand again, pulled me toward a couch. There were maybe five other people in the room, and I saw them track us with their peripheral vision.

“So, did you have fun? It seemed like you did.” I was getting used to this directness from Joe.

“Yes, of course. Couldn’t you tell?”

“You’re a great dancer.”

“You too.”

A pause. Drink sips, in unison.

“But you’re feeling good, so far? You’re feeling okay?” Joe said this with what looked like practiced concern on his face. I remembered the way Mr. Churchwell put his hand on Joe’s shoulder, the nodding of their heads.

“You’ve been talking too much to school counselors,” I said, pulling together all my courage to put my hand, lightly, on his knee. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Joe drank again, then put his hand over mine. My heart skipped, nervous, panic, but then I glanced back up at the other people in the room, now two or three more. They were a horizon to focus on when I started to feel queasy.

So you might get your first kiss. Chill!

But I had waited so long for the right opportunity. When I’d come close in the past I always blew it. I got nervous and too jokey. The more I anticipated it, the more terrifying it became.

Where was Meg? I needed to grab her and drag her into a bathroom or closet, clutch her arm and say, “Is this it?” Meg had already had her first, second, and third kiss, all with guys who worked at her family’s yacht club.

Now Joe was finishing his vodka tonic and going back to the bar, and I was gulping mine to keep up, something warming in my stomach. Then Meg was fluttering down the stairs, two at a time, holding her shoes in one hand and the edge of her dress in the other. She ran up to me, laughing.

“There you are.” She eyed my drink, then glanced at Joe behind the bar, getting a lesson in vodka-to-tonic ratios from a senior. “I see you’re all taken care of.”

“Want one?”

“No. I just wanted you to know where I’ll be.”

I gave her a dumb look.

“Manny told Gavin that the limo will be parked on the street,” Meg said, “a couple houses up. Adam’s folks set up a little party area for the limo drivers behind the pool house, so he won’t be there.”

“So?” Still dumb.

“So Gavin and I are going to hang out in the limo for a while.”

I let my mouth fall open wide. It was meant to look like mock horror, but it wasn’t all that mock.

She just smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and shot back up the stairs.

Suddenly Joe was at my side. “What was that?”

“They’re going to hang out in the limo for a while.”

Joe grinned, as if remembering something. “Let’s go up to the backyard,” he said. He grabbed my hand again, and I was getting used to that feeling of sudden heat, zing, shooting up my arm when he did that.

Upstairs, the party had gotten crowded, and getting to the backyard took several minutes. We wound our way through people, saying hi where appropriate, careful not to spill our drinks. Finally, stepping through the sliding glass doors onto Adam LaGrange’s brick patio, a blast of fresh air. There were Christmas lights strung all around, reflected in the pool water. A cluster of people around the buffet table provided a low murmur against the music coming from inside and the soft shriek of cicadas.

I found myself looking around for Julia La Paz, but didn’t see her, and felt relieved.

Joe’s friend Derek came up to us with two beers, handed one to me, then the other to Joe, and walked away. I just stared at it, amber slightly glowing from the lights.

“Isn’t there a saying about liquor before beer, or something like that?” I asked.

Joe just shrugged. “I’ve never been able to tell the difference.” And then he finished his vodka tonic, placed the beer cup inside the empty one, and took a big long sip. Before he was finished, I did the same thing.

“If I get you drunk, your grandmother will never forgive me,”