Shuffle, Repeat(53)

I’ve seen my mother buzzed a couple times before, so I smile at her, because I know that’s what she wants. “It’s fine, Mom.”

She counts on her fingers. “One: we would never get behind the wheel of a car in this condition. Two: we would never make sexual decisions while inebriated. Three…dammit. I had three a minute ago.”

“I got it, Mom. You’re in your house and you’re over twenty-one, drinking with your best friend. Seriously. It’s fine.”

“I love you,” she tells me.

“I love you, too.”

“And I have to tell you something,” she says. “You gotta learn to drive, baby.”

My insides twist. “What?”

“Marley wants to go home.”

? ? ?

By the time Oliver arrives, Mom and Marley have moved on to The Jesus and Mary Chain. When we walk into the kitchen, the moms are wild dancing to “Between Planets.” They have their eyes closed and they’re waving their arms in the air while they bounce around. Oliver shakes his head and goes to Marley, catching her arm in mid-gyration. “Hey, Mom.”

“Ollie!” She beams up at him and then immediately gets super serious, like she’s just gotten busted. “I understand you might have some questions about why your mother needs to be chauffeured….”

Except she says “needsh.”

My mom elbows her in the ribs. “Marley, chill. Our kids are cool.”

Marley looks at her and then back at Oliver. He nods. “We are, Mom. We’re really, really cool.”

He glances at me and I hurry to back him up. “So cool, Mrs. Flagg.”

“Let’s go, Mom,” Oliver says.

“I’ll walk you out!” my mom singsongs, and we all start toward the door together.

We’re almost there when I remember Marley’s slow cooker. “Your mom left something,” I tell Oliver. “I’ll be right back.”

The big pot is in the sink, right where my mom put it. It’s mostly scrubbed out, so I make the executive decision that in this case, half-assed is better than no-assed. I shove it into a grocery bag before trotting back through the house and out the front door onto the porch.

Oliver stands patiently by his car while Mom and Marley—their arms linked together—sway toward him, singing a Prince song. I’m pretty sure it’s the dirty one. Oliver and I trade amused glances and I head to the rear of his car. I set the grocery bag on the ground so I can figure out how to open the behemoth’s trunk. I’ve just found the button under the handle and yanked up when I hear Oliver shout.

“Don’t! Stop!”

I look up, startled. “Stop or don’t stop?” I ask him, but he doesn’t answer, because he has run over to me and is now looking all big-eyed and blinky. I follow his gaze into the behemoth’s trunk.

Aluminum foil.

His trunk is packed with boxes of aluminum foil. Completely full. All different brands.

The first thing I say is “No wonder the store was out!”

The second thing is “What the hell?”

Oliver shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

And the thing is I might not have worried about it if he hadn’t said that. As it is, my hands fly to my hips and I glare at him. “What’s going on, Oliver?”

At least he has the grace to look chagrined. “It’s for the prank.”

“The senior prank?”

“Is there another one?”

My glare intensifies and he withers under it. “What is this?” I say.

“Don’t get mad.”

“That’s what people say to someone with a legitimate reason to be mad.”

“It’s tonight. The prank is happening tonight.”

“What?” Indignation blazes up inside me. “Why don’t I know about this?”

“Why would you want to know?”

“Because I’m a senior!”

“But you’ve dismissed it since the beginning of the year,” he reminds me. “You hate it. Why would anyone think you’d want to be involved? Why would we think you wouldn’t narc us out?”

We.

That’s all I hear. If there’s a “we,” it means there is an “us” and a “you,” and I’m the “you.” I’m separate. I’m not one of us.

I stare at him, my mouth open but nothing coming out, because I’m so offended. No, I’m not offended. I’m angry.

I’m sad.

I’m about to say something—I don’t know what, but something—when a loud blast of the behemoth’s horn makes us both jump. “Our mothers are out of control,” Oliver says as we hear a gale of giggles from the front of the car.

Oliver slams the trunk and heads to the passenger side. I follow and watch him settle Marley into the seat. Once she’s buckled, he looks at me. “I’m taking her home and then I’m driving to school. I’ll come right past your house, so if you change your mind and actually want to be a part of it, call my cell.”

“I’m not calling you.”

“Well, you should.” He says it quietly, but it lands hard.

“If you really thought that, you would have told me about the prank in the first place.” Hurt threatens to close my throat. “I’m not part of this. I’m not a part of anything.”