It’s such a cliché to wake up with a hangover on New Year’s Day. I don’t even open my eyes but focus instead on being grateful that, thanks to Michael Endicott’s well-timed offer of a ride home last night, I woke up in my own house, and not Jeremy Wrentham’s. I’ll have to text Michael a “thank you” for that. Just as soon as Bigfoot stops tap-dancing on my head. Maybe in an hour. Maybe tomorrow …
When I finally get one sticky eye fully open I see my older sister Tori sitting on her bed, monitoring me for signs of life.
“I’m so glad you’re okay! I knew you were still alive because you were snoring so loudly.”
I groan and roll over away from her.
“So what happened? Beth Evans said you puked and Tommy Gage said Michael had to pull Jeremy off of you and then they got into a fistfight!”
“No! No.” I turn to her and as I roll I feel something sloshing in my guts and amend, “Well, the puking happened. Unfortunately.”
Tori laughs and stretches her legs out like a cat waking up. “Well, that won’t stop people from texting about it all day.”
“At least all is well with you and Trey?” I ask, because the only reason I had gone to the party in the first place was to get Tori out of the house to stop worrying about the fact that her perfect boyfriend, Trey Billingsley III, had been incommunicado through the whole holiday break. “He lost his phone.” She shrugs sheepishly, and I can tell that any lingering irritation with Trey is gone. “And it was so nice of Michael to tell him I was at Jason’s. Michael came back to the party to tell me you’d gone, by the way. And it was very nice of him to bring you home.” She gives me a pointed look.
“Oh. My. God!” Our younger sister Cassie bursts into the room, new Android in hand, and jumps on my bed. “I just heard that you were totally scamming with Jeremy Wrentham last night!”
“Cass,” Tori admonishes, “give George a break. She has a hangover.”
Cassie laughs herself off the bed at this information and I try to distract her by saying, “We should go see how Leigh’s night went. My New Year’s Eve was nothing to be proud of … though kissing Jeremy was not unpleasant.”
Cassie squeals at this and follows me to the staircase though she does not want to hear about her twin’s purity ring and vow celebration at her church. She grabs my arm, pleading, “Tell me about Jeremy! What kind of kisser is he? I would dump Brick for him, I really would.”
I just shake my head and lead them to the kitchen to see Leigh, who is happy to share her night with us. She describes the way everyone managed to make the cinderblock church basement look pretty with swags of evergreens and big red velvet bows and gold and white candles and ribbons. A Christian rock band played and she says dancing with Alistair had been “magical”, which I can only assume is a gross exaggeration. She shows us her ring, a simple silver band on her left hand.
Cassie launches into Beyonce’s routine from the “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” video and then cuts herself off to inform Leigh, “You don’t know what you’re missing.” At least Mom’s arrival in the kitchen prevents her from discoursing on the sordid details of her New Year’s Eve with the Brick. When Cassie departs, I ask Mom, “Do you worry about her? I do.”
Mom sits at the table next to Leigh and says, “I worry about all you girls in different ways. I don’t like that Michael Endicott brought you home drunk last night, for instance.”
“He didn’t get me drunk, Mom. I did that all on my own.” I sigh and consider picking up the bagel in front of me, but I’m not sure I should trust my stomach yet. “You can still think of him as the Prince of Longmeadow and me as your problem child.”
She nods and sips her coffee. “You know, the Endicott house is going to be on the Historic Homes Tour in a few weeks. I’m dying to see it. Bunny Billingsley
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