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Nora points to a house with a cement front porch decorated by orange lights. Heightened restlessness pulses from the bodies crowding the door. Or maybe that’s me projecting my own restlessness. My knees bob up and down like gears cranking before releasing a spring.
By the time we park and walk to the party’s location, I’m giddy.
The wall of bodies opens up when we approach the front door, good-naturedly making room for the newcomers. Considering how packed it is on the porch, I’m surprised to find the inside of the house barely populated.
“It’s early,” Nora says over her shoulder to me. “The football players haven’t come downstairs yet.”
“Jocks are so freaking hot,” Shawna adds. “You should meet Ana’s brother.”
I roll my eyes because the last thing I need is a reminder of Sergei. Not being where I’m supposed to be will piss him off.
But hasn’t he been encouraging me to make up my own mind? I’m hanging out with friends, and there’s no way I’ll do anything stupid like get drunk. No need for alcohol. Doing something unexpected heralds its own intoxication.
Suddenly, a boy thunders down the stairs, landing with a thump before resuming his stride. Close behind him, another boy jumps down from the last four steps to hurl himself at the first guy. They both crumple to the ground and wrestle.
I’m so shocked, it takes a minute to realize they’re laughing and covered with… glitter.
“You think I’m the only one who’s gonna get stuck with this shit, Rick? Think again.”
“Fuck, I had no idea it would be that much,” the other guy says between heaving fits of laughter. “You should have seen your face, man!”
“What the fuck, Darren! You got it all over the hallway!” Another guy comes down the stairs, gingerly avoiding the pesky bits of shine sticking to everything.
The glittered guys stand on their feet, wiggling like dogs shaking water off fur.
“Hey, watch it!” “What the hell!” “Idiots!” Complaints are lodged from all corners of the room.
“Do you have a lint brush?” I blurt before I can stop myself. How to get rid of this stuff is a lesson I learned the hard way, when an Easter brunch fiasco contaminated half my sophomore class with pink glitter.
All three guys who came downstairs turn to look at me. The most glittered one, who I deduce is Darren, sweeps his eyes over my face before smiling widely.
“What in the world is a lint brush, robot girl?”
“It’s sticky and rolls,” I answer. “Great for picking up the glitter on your skin. Unless that’s the look you’re going for. In which case, you missed a spot.”
Deep, rumbling laughter accompanies his gorgeous smile. “Got a name, robot girl?”
“Anastasia. I mean, um, call me Ana. And I’m a cyborg, not a robot.”
“Did one of your idiot friends send you a glitter box as a prank, too?” he asks with a lowered head, as if we’re in cahoots.
Instead of answering, I give instructions. “You should go outside and take your clothes off, so you don’t track any more all over your house.”
“If I get this stuff on you, will you go outside and take your clothes off too?” the other guy asks.
“Shut up, Rick,” Darren snaps before positioning his body so he’s between me and Rick. “Don’t mind him. Good idea to head outside. Wanna come along? Help us out till we find a lint brush?”
I look over his shoulder to find Shawna with her thumbs up and her cheeks aglow. Nora is fanning her face and noiselessly mouthing so hot.
“Sure. If you have thick tape, like masking tape, that could work too.”
We head out the door. Darren pushes his friend forward and stays back to walk beside me at a respectful, glitter-free distance.
“I like your costume,” he says. “Most girls wear a version of a sexy nurse or sexy cat—”
“Fucking love Halloween,” Rick interrupts.
“I said shut up, Rick.” Darren turns back to me and continues, “Yours is super cool.”
