The Party Crasher(14)

  I click on my emails to see if there’s anything from Krista yet—but nothing.

  “You know, I haven’t actually got an invitation to this thing,” I point out, and Bean laughs again.

  “You know what Krista’s like. She’s so techno-illiterate, she’s probably sending each one out individually. Oh, Ephelant, I’m so glad you’re coming.”

      “Maybe.”

  “OK, maybe. Even so. Let me know when you get your invitation.”

  As she rings off, I refresh my emails again. Still nothing from Krista. You’d think she would have sent out all the family invitations together. But perhaps she’s delayed mine. In fact, what am I saying? Of course she’s delayed mine. She’s trying to make a point. Well, whatever. Let her make her point. I don’t care.



* * *



  —

  Except I do care, it turns out, because an hour later I’ve refreshed my emails about a hundred times. Where’s this sodding invitation? She really knows how to wind me up. Does she not think that Bean and I talk? Does she not realize I see her little game?

  “Just be patient,” advises Temi, who’s sitting on the sofa, her hair in a shower cap, emitting a strong smell of coconut hair mask. “And do a hair mask while you’re waiting.” She gestures at her head. “I’ve got another sachet of this stuff. It’s great.”

  But I’m too wound up to apply a hair mask; I can’t wait a moment longer. I pull my laptop toward me and open a new email.

  “What are you doing?” demands Temi, her eyes narrowing.

  “Calling Krista’s bluff,” I reply shortly. “She can’t play games with me forever.”

  I type out a message, my fingers quick and determined.

      Hi, Krista.

   Your latest Instagram post is so much fun!!! How’s your sparkler? Hope it’s well. Just wondering if you were around Saturday evening? I was thinking I might pick up some stuff, but if you’re not going to be in, I’ll come another time.

   Effie



  I press send and wait for her reply. Krista’s always got her phone on her, in a jeweled belt thing, so I know she’ll get the email soon. Sure enough, within minutes, a reply arrives.

       Hi, Effie!

   Long time! We had started to think you didn’t exist—in fact, your dad and I talk about “the two kids” now. Joke!!!!

   We will be in on Saturday night, but we’re having a little gathering. You’re very welcome to come! Since you told me you never wanted to set foot in the house again or see my face, I didn’t think you would appreciate an invitation, but of course if you want to, we’d be super-thrilled to see you. Black tie, drinks from 6:30 p.m.

   Krista



  I read the email twice through, my shock rising as I fully take it in.

  She wasn’t just delaying my invitation—I wasn’t going to be invited at all. To my own family home. To my own family party, to which the entire rest of the world has been invited. I wasn’t on the list.

      This is Krista’s bomb, after all these weeks. She must have been waiting and waiting to drop it, and I can just see her triumphant, pink-lip-glossed smile.

  My face is burning hot. My brain feels all jangly. It never even occurred to me they wouldn’t invite me, that they would actually cut me out of this last chance to say goodbye to our family home.

  “So, did you get the email?” says Temi, wandering in, and I look up, trying to appear cheerful.

  “NFI,” I manage, and watch as her face drops in utter shock.

  “Not invited? You’re kidding!” She grabs the laptop out of my hand and scans it intently. “Wait. You are invited.”

  “That’s not really invited, though, is it? I wasn’t on the list. Krista’s ‘allowing’ me to come to the party. It’s different. In fact, this entire email is pretty much an anti-invitation.”

  “This is unreal,” Temi breathes. “It’s your house!”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Wait, but…your dad.” Her eyes widen. “Is he OK with this? He can’t be!”

  “Not sure,” I say, trying to force my lips into a smile. “Guess he must be. You know we don’t really talk anymore. So. This must be…what he wants too.”

  I lapse into silence. I feel as if a door has clanged shut somewhere. I didn’t even know it was open, but now it’s definitely shut.

  “This is outrageous!” Temi erupts. “How long did you live in that house? And how long has Krista been on the scene? And as for your dad—” She breaks off in disbelief, and for a few moments we’re both silent.

      “Well, anyway,” I say at last, my voice trembling. “Give me that.” With stiff hands, I take my laptop back and press reply.

  “What are you doing?” queries Temi.

  “I’m going to decline Krista’s charming anti-invitation.”