They Wish They Were Us(26)

“First up, Sierra McKinley. Quentin, she’s your nom. What’s her deal?”

“Sierra’s in my AP drawing class—as a freshman, which is amazing—and she’s actually super talented. I told her so last week and she didn’t get all nervous the way the other freshmen do when I talk to them. She just said thanks and drew this insane-looking bird and I was like, damn, that is very cool. Plus, she’s got that sick house up near the tollbooth and has like three acres of beach access. Mom went there for Fourth of July last year and they set off their own fireworks. Very good party house.”

Nikki smiles. “Anyone dissent?”

“She won’t put out!” Robert yells.

“How do you even know that, asshole?” I ask.

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You wish, Robert.” Nikki straightens her back and flips her hair over her shoulder. This was a bad week between them. “Next up, Bryce Miller.” She points to me. “Your pick?”

“Adam’s brother,” I say as a way of explanation. Heads around the room nod, but Henry looks down and starts thumbing through Twitter again. “I thought at first he was a little shit but he’s been super cool to Jared, bringing him around for band practice and stuff. I’m into it.”

Nikki nods in absolute seriousness. “Thoughts?” Her eyebrows shoot up to the group.

“It’s a no-brainer,” Marla says, and I thank her silently for having my back. “Legendary is in his blood.”

“All right then,” Nikki says. “Moving on.” For the next three hours, Nikki runs through a dozen more names. We debate Gina Lopez’s suspicious gluten allergy, Carl Franklin’s excessive sneaker collection, Aditi Kosuri’s actually-pretty-good attempts at being a style influencer, and Larry Kramer’s wild growth spurt that landed him near the seven-foot mark this spring. The boys demand a thirty-minute break to shoot around a basketball, while Marla, Nikki, and I laze next to the pool with a bag of Cheetos and a box of Pocky.

“We’re almost at Jared, Jill,” Nikki says, wiping cheese dust off her fingers. “What do you want to do?”

Marla nods. “Like I said, he is kind of cute.” She giggles.

“Mar, I swear,” I say, and swat at her arm. I try to think. “We decided that things would be different. We would be different. Nikki, you’re Toastmaster now, the first girl ever. So we’re in charge.”

They nod. “I want him here, if we’re still in on that promise,” I say. “Nothing bad can happen to him or any of the others. We can change everything. We can make this fun, the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Hell yeah,” Nikki says. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“If that’s the case, if that’s really the case, I’m all in,” I say.

Everything is going to be different.

Jared is voted in, obviously, along with Sierra, Bryce, and a few others.

I let Adam know the good news.

Fuck yeah, he responds in an instant.

Keep it cool, tho. We want it to be a surprise.

Obvi, Newman. I got this . . . wish I was there to celebrate with you.

My heart flutters.

Same.

Have the most fun possible. Ever. Period. All the time.

You know it.

We end the day with pizza and garlic knots, eaten on paper plates in Nikki’s living room. She puts on an old Adam Sandler movie and we lie like sloths until varsity running back Eli Jaffe group texts like sixty people saying he’s throwing a last-minute beer pong tournament. Henry, Robert, and Marla jump up to go, but Quentin, Nikki, and I stay behind and settle in for a Real Housewives marathon.

“This Toastmaster shit is exhausting,” Nikki says, splayed out on the couch, the tiny gavel still by her side. “Even more so than student council. At least there, no one questions me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Quentin says. His stomach is covered in stray pizza crust crumbs. “You love this.”

Nikki sinks deeper into the couch. “Damn right, I love it. This time next year, we’re going to be pond scum, back at the bottom after years climbing our way to the top. You’re nuts if you think I’m not going to savor every second. I’m not ready to go back there yet.”

I reach for her hand and squeeze it.

“Intro night is gonna be amazing,” Quentin mumbles.

He’s right. It’s always my favorite, ever since we had ours. It’s a big party on the beach, the only one that is filled with hope and anticipation instead of dread.

Our intro happened on a warm night in October, just as the weather was starting to turn. Shaila suggested we all gather at Nikki’s since her parents would be away and Nikki jumped at the chance to host for the first time, to be a leader.

She broke out a bottle of tequila and we all took swigs, sizing each other up. I was close with Shaila, Nikki, and Graham, of course, but it was the first time I had really hung out with Robert or Marla outside of school. Robert had secretly always intimidated me. And Marla was still new, unattached to any solid friend group. At that point, Henry was just the cute, lanky kid on the school news channel. He had yet to make varsity lacrosse or fill out his six-foot frame. And Quentin was his best friend, the artsy guy, whose paintings hung in the middle school hallways. But somehow, for some reason, Adam, Jake, Rachel, and the rest of the senior Players had picked the eight of us and changed our lives forever.