“Maybe one day, Tuck’ll turn this place into something,” he says. “My castle.” He gestures around to the run-down garage, with its broken gas pumps and cracked windows. Tucker catches his elbow before he trips.

I lean across the seat, toward the open passenger window, and give Duke a well-deserved scratch on the head. “All due respect, Mr. Watson, but I think Tucker is meant for much, much bigger things.”

Mr. Watson lets out a short, acerbic laugh.

I know that this guy is probably just fine when he’s sober, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch someone else’s dad like I do right now.

Tucker smiles tightly, pulling his dad toward the door. “Come on, Duke. Inside.” He looks up to me, and I can see the million thoughts passing just behind his eyes about what me meeting his dad might mean to him. Uncertainty. Discomfort. And even a little bit of relief. “Thanks for the ride,” he tells me.

“Anytime.”

Twenty-Four

On Saturday night, me, Hannah, Clem, Alex, and Kyle are all gathered around Kyle’s family’s dining room table.

Kyle looks over a clipboard. “Alex, baby, you did one last sweep for breakables? Did you get my mom’s framed photo of Nana on her wedding day? The one in the hallway bathroom.”

“Yes, for the tenth time,” Alex says. “Can I please start making those blue frozen drink thingies I found on Pinterest?”

Kyle sighs. “I don’t want us to blow through our ice supply too quickly. Once it’s out, it’s out.”

“We could run to the store,” says Hannah, her voice flat and bored.

“Not if you’ve even had a drop of alcohol,” says Kyle. “So if you plan on being the party mom, that’s on you.”

Clem reaches under the table to squeeze Hannah’s hand in an attempt to diffuse obvious irritation.

I raise my hand, which I can immediately tell Kyle greatly appreciates by the way he nods at me.

“Yes, Waylon.”

“Um, who exactly did you invite to this party?” I ask.

“Yeah,” says Alex. “You’ve been very cagey with the invite list.”

Kyle clears his throat. “Well, I invited the Prism Club. And the choir.”

The only thing that cuts the silence is the whirring of the ceiling fan in the living room.

“Do you know how much booze I got?” I manage to say. “There’s enough alcohol in your shed to get a small country hammered.”

“I wanted it to be a special night,” Kyle says. “A party for us. Not them.”

For the first time since I’ve known him, I can see Alex’s blood begin to boil. “But we don’t want it to be us versus them. We want to be them! And throwing a badass party is a step in the right direction.” He lets out a frustrated shriek and storms out.

This ship is sinking fast. I look to Hannah. She nods, instinctively.

“We could call the rest of the prom court,” I offer.

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” says Alex. “Our one single guest has arrived!”

“Do whatever you want,” says Kyle as he pushes back from the table. “It’s probably the pizza guy,” he calls to Alex. And then to us, or maybe to no one, he says, “I try to do one adventurous, wild thing and plan a memorable night for us to tell our kids about, but no, it’s not enough. I didn’t invite the right people. Well, fine, Waylon. Invite them. Invite the jocks and the cheerleaders and the popular kids and the stoners. Sue me for wanting to have a party with people who actually like and respect me.”

Clem looks to Hannah and shakes her head while Hannah is very clearly biting her tongue.

Kyle marches off to the door to help Alex with the pizza.

“Should I break it to him that like and respect are both very strong words?” Hannah asks once the coast is clear.

“You two are awful,” says Clem.

“This party is going to be less exciting than an overnight sleep study,” I say.

“I said you were awful,” Clem says. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t call your prom squad.”

I step out to the backyard, where Kyle’s pool glitters under a canopy of string lights, and hold my phone to my ear. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Waylon?” asks Tucker, shouting into the receiver over the sound of a jackhammer in the background.

No turning back now.

“Hey,” I say, unable to help myself from shouting back. Neither of us have even so much as texted since last night.

“Is everything okay? You’ve never called me before.” He continues to yell, even after the noise behind him quiets.

“I can hear you,” I tell him.

“Oh, sorry.”

“And I’m fine.” He’s right, though. I’ve never heard his voice on the phone, and now that I have, it might be something I need to hear again. “What time do you get off work tonight?” I ask.

“I’m putting in overtime right now, so I guess whenever I want.”

“How do you feel about a party?” I ask. “And how quickly can you help me get half the school here?”

“I feel like watching Netflix and eating cold pizza, but I could be persuaded. As for half the school, I’ve got a few group texts going that could fill a house in thirty minutes.”

In the forty-five minutes it takes for anyone else to arrive, Kyle stress-eats a whole pizza and then begs Alex to forgive him through a locked bathroom door while Hannah and Clem run out for a few extra bags of ice.

I hang out in the living room, nibbling on pizza while the strobe lights from Kyle’s karaoke machine dance around me.

When Hannah and Clem return, they’ve brought with them Willowdean, Ellen, her boyfriend Tim, Amanda, Callie, Mitch, Millie, and a boy holding Millie’s hand who I’ve seen around school with her.

“This is the party?” Callie asks when she sees me eating pizza solo by strobe light.

“I’ve never been to an unsupervised party like this before,” Millie says with a giggle.

The guy holding her hand, with thick black hair and a caramel-brown complexion, who also manages to make a sweater vest and loafers look cool, gives her a kiss on the cheek.

She wraps her arms around his waist. “Malik stole a box of wine from his parents’ stash,” she whispers.

“A box of wine to myself sounds like the kind of party I need right now,” says Willowdean.

Malik laughs. “I was thinking the box could be more of a communal situation. I don’t know much about box wine, but solo box wine sounds sort of depressing.”

Millie nods thoughtfully.

Ellen takes Willowdean’s hand and pulls her closer, whispering something to her.

Clem and Hannah emerge from behind them with bags of ice.

“There’s a freezer in the garage,” I tell them.

“Come in, come in,” says Kyle, sweeping down the stairs as he pulls Alex behind him, and Alex’s eyes are a little bit puffy and red. Drama in paradise! “There are refreshments in the kitchen and libations as well. Please leave your keys in the cookie jar to help me monitor drunk driving.”

“I’ve got no desire to drive drunk,” says Amanda, “but I don’t think you’re going to get many people who are willing to give up their car keys.”