and ah. “Have fun. . . ,” they say nearly in stereo.
I would love more than anything to invite them. I want to be that girl, one time, the one who has an invite to an awesome party, the one who has all the backstage access.
“I’d invite you, but it’s not my party . . . ,” I say.
“That’s okay,” the girl with the black hair says. I start to turn away.
“You should come out with us this weekend.” I turn back. She gestures to the other girls at the table.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she says, and stands up. “Give me your phone.”
“Great!” Too enthusiastic. Calm down. “I mean, that would be cool.”
She types in her number. “I’m Claudia.”
“Sarah,” I reply and give her my cell phone number.
“I don’t leave until August, so I’m, like, begging them to stay.” She nods to her friends.
“Me too!” I say. “I mean, I’m here until August.”
“Perfect. Maybe I’ll have one friend who’s here for the whole summer.” She smiles at me and it hits me that I am potentially this friend.
I glance at the time—10:06.
“Crap. I have to go.”
“Have fun!” they all call. I wave and head off toward the Break Away.
I have to do these tiny running steps all the way to the restaurant parking lot. I get there by 10:10 and scan for Curtis’s Jeep, but I don’t see it. I don’t know what kind of car the bartender from the Lobster Pot drives, so I have no idea if Scarlett is inside. Some people are idling out front smoking cigarettes and I approach a girl with long dreads. I don’t have a choice. I can’t go up there and risk it in Scarlett’s dress. I walk up to her and throw my shoulders back—another Scarlett trademark.
“Have you guys seen Scarlett? Blonde? Ballerina.” Pain in the ass, I want to add.
The girl with the dreads turns to one of the guys next to her, who I didn’t recognize at first. It’s Tate from the Lobster Pot.
“She left with Curtis, I think,” he says. I immediately take a step back. Maybe he won’t recognize me all dressed up. My hair was down at dinner.
“Like five minutes ago,” the girl with the dreads adds. “Do you have her number?”
“Oh yeah. Definitely. Thanks,” I say casually and keep checking to see if Tate tries to place me. “I’ll text her. You know. On the phone.” I back away before I keep rambling on nervously, but they don’t seem to care because they’re back in a conversation and don’t look up at me again.
Freedom! I can go into the party and I don’t have to worry. Happy Birthday to me!
I head up the stairs. I wish I could tell Andrew all the good news about my birthday, that I am going to see Gran and that I got a car. But I can’t, so I will have to settle for telling him the next best thing: that in five days the comet will be mine. I take another step and on cue, Andrew walks out onto the darkened stairs. The light from inside the restaurant highlights his frame. He is wearing jeans and a blue button-down shirt that really brings out his tan, and has a jacket slung over one arm. He looks incredible.
He hurries down the stairs but stops abruptly, looking me up and down. He shakes his head a little. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he asks.
Andrew extends his hand to me in his now familiar way. When I take it, he draws me to him and kisses me gently. As we head upstairs, the music swirls out the second-story windows and across the tiny airport.
“What’s the point of watching people take off in airplanes to go somewhere that you’re not? Seems like a tease,” I say.
I want to fly. Get in a plane, feel the engines rumble beneath my seat, and take off and see the world. Explore all the places I want to go.
Upstairs in the restaurant, there’s a huge buffet in the corner and the smell of barbecue, dressings, and corn on the cob fills the room. People are everywhere: eating, dancing, and ordering drinks. A live band plays in the corner; the music is so loud it makes the floor shake.
I wonder if anyone can tell I’m officially sixteen. My hair is coiffed up in a clip. Ettie seemed to think it would make me seem older.
Andrew hangs his jacket over a chair once we get inside. This