Hope and Other Punch Lines(16)

“Has that ever stopped us before?” I ask.

“Yup. Every single time. Name a single high school party that we’ve been to,” Jack challenges, and I don’t say anything because the answer is zero. We have been to zero parties. “We didn’t go to homecoming, which only works as an example if I allow you to broaden the category so as to include school-sponsored events, to which everyone is automatically invited. And even then, my friend, we did not go.”

“Fine,” I say.

“There was that party we went to a few years ago….Oh, wait, that was your bar mitzvah.” Once Jack gets started, it’s impossible to get him to stop until his rant has run its course, so I don’t even try. I pick up the second paddle, and we start playing an impromptu game against the wall. “I know! What about that time at school when Mr. Caruso brought soda and chips and there were girls there? Crap. That was a newspaper meeting. Or when we all stood out back of school during first period? Right. Fire drill. Not. A. Party.”

“You’ve made your point,” I say. I aim the ball for the far corner, make Jack run a little. “But this is a college party. And we were invited. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“It was implied. Zach mentioned that a bunch of people were going.”

“I thought you said that guy was an asshole.” Jack hits the ball high, and it bounces off the ceiling. I return it with a swing behind my back that nails the wall low. Jack dives onto the carpet and sends it back across the room. A perfect shot that lands in the opposite far corner. I steeple my hands together and bow to him. This might be the best part of Jack’s basement. We can nerd out all we want and no one can judge us.

“True. Imagine if the universe purposely, like, created the exact genetic code of the person you, in particular, would be most likely to hate and you’ll get a close approximation of Zach,” I say. “So he totally sucks.”

“You’re not really selling this thing,” Jack says.

“Remember when I went with you in full cosplay to Comic Con, even though I hated every second of it? I wore red leggings, dude. Or when I camped outside the Apple store because you wanted to get the new iPhone? I watched the Super Bowl last year, even though football is dumb and inhumane. Come on. I beg you. Do this one small thing for me,” I say, already knowing he will say yes.

“Will Baby Nope be there?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Liar.”

“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me making a new friend and you being left behind,” I say.

“I wish this were about you making a new friend. Anyhow, it’d be awesome if you found a girlfriend. Then everyone would stop thinking we were a couple,” Jack says.

“People do not think we are a couple.” I say this though I have no idea if it’s true. We do spend a ton of time together.

“Come on, you know I’m prettier than Baby Nope,” he says.

“Not even close.”

“My boobs are totally better.” I throw my paddle at his head. He ducks unnecessarily. I was three feet wide.

“Didn’t realize we had a line, but you just crossed it. So you’ll come?” I ask.

“That’s what he said,” Jack says.

“I hate you.”

“No. You love me because I’m going to go to this party tonight and be the world’s best wingman even though I’m a little lovesick and heartbroken that the boy I’m crushing on from work is likely to be arrested for his Robin Hooding ways and also probably isn’t gay,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.”

“People don’t really think we are a couple, right?” I ask.

“Nah. Well, except for my mom,” Jack says.





No one is going to ruin this party for me. Not Noah, who is standing near the keg with another junior from Oakdale and who has twice tried to talk to me about setting up a schedule for our interviews. Not Julia, who it turns out lives in the exact opposite direction, which means there is no way I will make it home before my already generous curfew. Not even my parents, who stood at the door and waved goodbye with ridiculously proud grins, like I was headed off to do something amazing like win an Academy Award or attempt a solo flight over Antarctica. Certainly not my lungs, which started flaring up as soon as I entered this dusty room. Nope. This is a party, a college party, filled with all sorts of new and interesting people from an entire county away to whom I can hopefully introduce myself as simply Abbi.

So far, the only catch is I’m not quite sure how to join in. As soon as we got here, Julia beelined for the bar. She is now out back somewhere hanging with Zach, who, when he first saw her, said, “Well, hello, beautiful, shall we alight to the outdoors?” and flashed that cheesy smile just at her, his laser focus making it clear that he was not inviting me along. That the beautiful was singular.

Right now, I’m standing behind Charles, but his broad back is to me, and even if it weren’t, what could I say? Sure was a big poop in the plake today! So kind of Knight’s Day Camp to provide me with latex gloves to clean it up.

He’s talking to Natasha, whom he calls Tash because of course girls who look like her get cool nicknames not horrible ones like “Baby Hope.” They are discussing how they are both English majors and isn’t it funny how they will be unemployed forever. I want to interrupt and remind them that everyone knows pretty people get hired first, so they should both be fine.