The Sleepover (2 page)

It's just lately I've been starting to wonder if maybe Mom's a little
too
overprotective.

I mean, I know she is (says the only girl on the soccer field wearing a bike helmet).

I guess maybe what I'm actually starting to wonder is if I'm still okay with it. Tonight's kind of a test. If I can have fun and go a little bit crazy and nothing bad happens, maybe I need to work up the courage to talk to Mom about a few things. And, duh, what could ever go wrong at a simple sleepover at my best friend's house, where I spend practically half my time anyway?

I give Mom a quick hug and say, “Sure thing. Floss.
Retainer. Call. Got it. Say good night to Dad for me.” I readjust my sleeping bag and drag my duffel around Mom's planted legs. Paige backs off the step and onto the path, smiling angelically at my mother. With her pale blond waves, she really does look like an angel.

“Enjoy your evening, Mrs. A.” Under her breath as we walk away she mutters, “Dude,
what
is a Ladybug cell?”

I groan and whisper, “It's a starter cell phone. With a total of two buttons: home and 9-1-1.”

Paige snorts a giggle and grabs the duffel out of my hands as we make our way toward her sister in the waiting car. I steal a glance behind me at Mom because I'm positive she won't let me drive off with a college kid behind the wheel, but she's already closed the door. Phew!

“Oh, my poor sheltered Meghan,” Paige says when she catches my worried look. “You're not going to know what hit you. Mark my words, Megs. Tonight? Is gonna be
EPIC
.”

It doesn't exactly inspire confidence in our best-night-ever plans when the birthday girl can't answer the door because she's arguing with her mother. Maybe
arguing
isn't the right word, but it's definitely a Serious Discussion, and I feel totally weird ringing the doorbell in the middle of it. The door itself is propped open a few inches and, technically, we could just walk in, which Anna Marie's mom always tells me I should
do since I'm here so much, but then we would be interrupting and it would be all awkward and . . .

I steal a glance at Paige, who just shrugs and plops down on the step. It takes a lot to make Paige uncomfortable, which probably mostly has to do with the older siblings thing. At Paige's house, chaos and bickering are everyday occurrences, unlike at my house, which is always dust-free and orderly and church-quiet except for when Dad plays his cello.

“But it's
my
birthday. Shouldn't I get a say in this?” Anna Marie is saying, kind of high-pitched and pleadinglike.

“Bug, I know it's not ideal,” her mom answers. “But your father asked a special favor, and I think it's a reasonable request. You're already skipping out on your annual sunrise birthday hike up Mount Ellis with him.”

Mrs. Guerrero's voice is gentle, just like she is. I love, love,
LOVE
Anna Marie's mom. She's warm and soft and always just a little frazzled. It's not like I don't love my own parents most of all because—
obviously
—of course I do. I just wish sometimes they could relax a little more, especially my mother.

Okay, I've held out on something I've been dying to do for long enough. I can't take it anymore! I steal the tiniest of peeks at the house next door, just like I do every time I'm at Anna Marie's. I can't even help it. It's like there's a magnet attached to my head and the other magnet is on Jake Ribano's house.

It's so not fair that Anna Marie gets to live next door
to Jake, the cutest guy in our grade and, also, kind of the scariest. Well, not scary exactly; it's just that he's a little bit of a rebel. Seeing as how I am the exact polar opposite of a rebel, it makes him sort of fascinating. At least that's what I'm blaming my stalkerish tendencies on. Not the fact that he's got this floppy blue-black hair he's always pushing out of his eyes absentmindedly or anything shallow like that. Totally involuntarily, my heart speeds up a little at the thought of catching a glimpse of him.

But no.

His house is dark and quiet. My heartbeat slows and steadies.

Inside, Mrs. Guerrero says, “Besides, in a few months, Veronica's going to be part of this family whether you like it or not. And I can promise you, your life will be a lot easier if you learn to deal with that.”

“Mom. Seriously. You've met Veronica. She's a freak!” Anna Marie is practically shouting now, and I cringe and avoid looking at Paige. So mega-awkward. I feel extra bad for my best friend. I can't even imagine having a stepsister forced on me, and Anna Marie already has her hands full with a bratty little brother, Max. I used to beg my parents for a baby brother or sister until I realized I could end up with a Max. No, thanks.

“Anna Marie! That's no way to talk about someone who
will be family soon. You have to find a way past this, preferably before Dad's wedding.”

Mrs. Guerrero's voice gets quieter, and both Paige and I scoot our butts a little bit closer to the doorway, exchanging guilty glances as we do. “Look,” Mrs. G. says. “I'll admit Veronica has some . . . oddities. But she seems like a sweet enough girl, and you're the same age, so you have something in common right there. You can't argue she hasn't been doing her part to try to get to know you, and I just think you
could
meet her halfway.”

Anna Marie snorts loud enough that we can hear it. “I don't consider charting my horoscope based on the latitude and longitude of my birth location ‘getting to know me.' ”

Paige stuffs her fist into her mouth to keep from laughing, and I elbow her. The only thing worse than interrupting would be getting busted eavesdropping. Paige rubs at her elbow and mouths,
Ow!

I ignore her.

Inside, Anna Marie's mom sounds sympathetic. “I know it's your big sleepover party and this is getting sprung on you at the last minute. But I'm trying to be supportive of Dad's decision to remarry, and I think allowing Veronica to be part of your birthday would be a really nice gesture. Okay, sweets?”

Anna Marie sighs. “Not really. But I'm guessing this is a rhetorical question.”

“She'll be here in a half hour. I expect you to be inclusive. It means a lot to Dad
and
to me.”

It's quiet then, and after about ten seconds Paige pops to her feet and puts her hand out to help me up. Together we lean on the doorbell and wait for Anna Marie to fling the door open the rest of the way.

“S
QUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

I'm pretty sure we just woke up people sleeping in Australia, but so what? It's finally here! The party is starting! We scramble inside, knocking bags and hips as we barrel down the basement stairs.

I don't mention a single thing about the fight we overheard, and neither does Paige. Anna Marie seems okay, and why ruin a good sleepover with serious talk? Paige drops her backpack and sleeping bag at the base of the stairs, forcing me to leap from the last step over the discarded gear. I swallow a sigh and move her stuff against the wall, where it won't be a safety hazard.

Oh my God. I'm turning into my mother. It's official. I may need medical attention.

“I. Am. So.
Excited!
” Anna Marie yells. “Omigosh, you guys, tonight was taking forever to get here even though it's not technically tonight yet because it's only five o'clock, but
you know what I mean. I'm so, so glad I overruled Mom about the party starting now, because we need the extra time to do all the fun stuff before we get tired, and if you start a sleepover at seven or something, then you barely get to do anything before you have to go to sleep, although we're totally not going to sleep, are we? I want to see how late we can stay up! I say two a.m., but I couldn't make myself nap earlier when I tried, so I bet I crash by midnight. And don't worry, Megs, we'll stay up all night with you if that's what it takes so you aren't freaked out. Omigosh, you're
heeeeere
!”

Anna Marie . . . likes to talk. A lot. Sometimes this is a good trait in a best friend, like on days you're really sleepy because your math homework took forever the night before, or you're distracted looking for a certain neighbor of hers in the hallway between classes, and sometimes it's a little bit annoying. Right now? It's perfect! Her excitement is way contagious.

She grabs us both by the hands, and we all jump in place. I don't know why this gives us the major giggles, but it does. I laugh at how Anna Marie's short, spiky hair barely moves with her jumps. I have no idea what my ponytail is doing and, for once, I don't care. I don't even care about all those tiny doubts I had in the back of mind every time I pictured this party, worrying about whether I'd have to call my mom to pick me up because I was too big of a baby to spend the entire night. At the moment they're all just . . . gone. Poof.

“Okay, what's first? Snacks? Spa Night? Xbox?” Anna Marie asks, waving her hands around the open room. I've spent so much time in this basement, I could probably even find my way around it blindfolded. On the center wall is an oversize flat-screen TV with a cabinet below it. Without looking, I can guarantee there are cords from the Xbox in a tangled mess on the floor in front of it. The couch is this big tan sectional with lumpy cushions in the middle of the space, and behind it is a Ping-Pong table and a wood bar Anna Marie's dad decorated with signs from Irish pubs, back when he still lived here and called the basement his “man cave.”

“Presents!” Paige declares. We've only been here for 2.5 seconds but, clearly, Paige cannot wait one more instant to give Anna Marie whatever it is she got her. She yanks her backpack from next to the wall where I'd nudged it and rifles through until she finds a rectangular-shaped box tied with purple (Anna Marie's favorite color) ribbon.

Paige's grin is huge as she hands the package over, and her smile grows even bigger as Anna Marie tugs off the ribbon and unwraps the paper. Anna Marie holds up the cellophane-wrapped Summer Dance Party 11 for Xbox and squeals.

“Every party needs dancing!” Paige declares.

Anna Marie throws her arms around Paige and says, “It's perfect! Thank you so much! I was getting really good at all the songs on SDP 10, and that's awesome but also kind of
boring, ya know? And now I'll have a whole ton of new ones to learn. Yay! I love it so much!”

Geez, I hope she likes the journal I bought her as much. Writing quietly is not exactly a party activity, and now I'm worried I should have brought something more fun. I know Anna Marie will like it, because we're alike in most ways and I have to put all my thoughts on paper or it's like they never happened (and let's be honest, Anna Marie always has a
lot
to say about anything and everything), but this party is supposed to be all about letting loose and coming out of my shell. Maybe that means I should have found something we all could have had fun with tonight, like Paige's present. Why am I such a fail at party guesting? At the very least, I'm waiting until later to give Anna Marie my present.

Paige has dropped to her knees and is pushing the bulky coffee table tight against the couch, clearing an open space in the middle of the carpet, and Anna Marie is sliding the game into the console. I grab a controller to help out.

“ ‘Maniac' or ‘Funkytown'?” I ask, scrolling my thumb along the buttons.

“ ‘American Boy,' ” orders Paige. “It's Kanye!”

I'm not supposed to listen to Kanye. Mom doesn't like “the way those rap singers disrespect women.” But I don't mention this. Instead I find the song and hit play before jumping back up and joining Paige and Anna Marie in a line. Of course
Paige, who is allowed to do, watch, and listen to anything on account of being the youngest child by a whole lot of years, knows every word. At least it doesn't take me long to learn the refrain, and the dance moves come pretty naturally.

I'm paying so much attention to the scores on the screen and trying to beat my friends that I don't notice the girl with stringy hair clutching the banister and bobbing her head along until she sings out (off tune, I might add), “ ‘Take me to New York. I'd like to see LA.' ”

Paige and Anna Marie spin around, and I'm so startled I drop my controller.

“ ‘I really want to come kick it with you,' the girl continues, squinting through thick glasses at the lyrics on the screen and emphasizing them with a karate-style leg move that causes her to tumble down the last two stairs and land on her hands and knees.

The song ends as all three of us gape at the girl in front of us on the floor. If it were me sprawled there, I would have practically died, but this girl seems completely
un
embarrassed. In fact, she's
smiling
.

“Hi, everyone!”

Anna Marie sighs, walks to the steps, and reaches out a hand to help the girl up.

“Guys, this is my, um . . . This is Veronica. She's, uh, she's joining us tonight.”

Anna Marie has one of those forced-polite smiles that's exactly like the one I plaster on at coffee hour after church when all the old ladies pet my arm and ask me if I have a boyfriend yet. (Answer I give: No, I'm still too young for that. Answer I'd like to give: No, and haven't you ever heard of women's lib? Girls these days have way more to do with their time than think about boys, you know.
Actual
answer: No, but I definitely wouldn't complain if I did and, please, God, could it be Jake Ribano?)

I exchange a quick glance with Paige behind Anna Marie's back, and try to make my smile more genuine as I say, “Um, hey, Veronica. It's nice to meet you.”

Just because I've heard Anna Marie complain nonstop about her weird stepsister-to-be doesn't mean I have to judge her before I know her. Although there's probably some kind of Best Friend Code that says I do. But still.