a smile. “Hi, Dean.” Mindy was tall like her father, but she had her mother’s black hair and expressive brown eyes.
Mindy’s presence took me by surprise. It was the first time I could remember my parents inviting someone my age to one of their parties. “Mindy. Hi. I mean, hi! Why don’t you all come in? My parents are this way.”
In the kitchen, my mother and father were putting the finishing touches on dinner, and hors d’oeuvres had already been plated and laid out on the counters for the guests to enjoy. “Mom? Dad? The Maguires are here.”
The doorbell rang again, and I spent the next few minutes running back and forth, showing in the Weirs, the Palmers, the Hansens, the Moskowitzes, and the Canteros. Soon, the adults were drinking wine and chatting, spreading through the dining room into the sitting room, while instrumental music provided acoustic atmosphere. I was passed from one adult to the next like an oddity to be marveled at, fielding questions about the campaign and what I’d learned and being told how fascinating it was and how lucky I was to have the opportunity to witness history being made. For my part, I answered their questions, agreed, or smiled when I had nothing to say, just as I’d been taught. I was comfortable around adults in a way that I wasn’t always with my peers.
Eventually, I tried to slip away for a moment so I could see if Dre had replied to me on Promethean. We had been in the middle of a conversation when the guests had begun to arrive, and I was eager to answer the questions Dre had asked. I didn’t notice Mindy standing beside me until she spoke. “Hi, Dean.”
I didn’t know Mindy well. We had been in youth group together, and she’d volunteered locally through the church with me a few times, but she didn’t go to my school. From what I remembered of her, she was nice but hadn’t made much of an impression. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Mindy was holding a highball glass filled with ginger ale and ice, but it seemed like she was only holding it to give her hands something to do because it was still as full as it had been when I’d gotten it for her shortly after she’d arrived. “So much fun,” she said. “I enjoy the part where adults I hardly know treat me like an anomaly because I know a few words with more than two syllables.”
I grimaced. “They probably think all teenagers are brain-dead and sit around huffing dry-erase markers.”
“Whatever. I’m just here for the free food.”
“Really?”
Mindy rolled her eyes. “No. I’m here because my parents told me that I didn’t have a choice. I was supposed to be hanging out with my girlfriend huffing dry-erase markers.”
I forced out the laugh I’d practiced for those inevitable times when one of my parents’ friends made an awful joke that I still had to pretend to find hilarious. “Funny.”
“That’s me,” Mindy said. “I’m a comedienne or whatever.” She tapped the side of her glass with her fingernail. “I’m betting you’re not the kind of son who’d know how we could sneak some actual alcohol into my drink, are you?”
“Sorry. I don’t drink.”
Mindy sighed. “Of course you don’t.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t either, not really, but this party is boring. How much trouble do you think I’d get in if I went into the bathroom and set the house on fire?”
My mouth was still hanging open when my mother walked up. “Mindy Maguire, it’s so lovely to see you.” She was stunning in a black cap-sleeve peplum dress.
“Thank you for having me, Governor Arnault.”
“Janice, please.”
Mindy had transformed from whatever she’d been a moment earlier into a demure, fawning sycophant, and her performance was as compelling as it was bizarre. “You have such a beautiful home. Thank you for inviting me.”
My mother preened at the compliment. “Why thank you, dear. And thank you for keeping Dean company. I sometimes worry that he doesn’t spend enough time around people his own age.”
“Dean’s been great,” Mindy said. “He was just telling me how much he loves working on your campaign and that you’re exactly the kind of woman this country needs in the White House.” She patted my arm. “You’re an inspiration.”
“Dean is a remarkable young man,” she said. “But I don’t want to monopolize your time. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.” My mother smiled at me. “Dean.”
“Mom.”
The