Every Little Thing

08

"Okay, but would it kill you to go to one more party? Just for a while?"

"Georgina, I stand by my first answer—no."

She pouts a cherry-red lip at me, and I roll my eyes. There's no way that I'm letting her drag me off to what will only result in another restless slumber. Nevertheless, I have to hand it to her—the girl is persistent.

"We won't have to stay long," she reasons, scooting forward on my bed so that her hands are on my knees and her pleading, almond-shaped eyes are boring into mine. "I just—Hale's going, and I kind of want to make a—public appearance with him, and I just thought, that just maybe—"

"I'm sorry, Georgie, but I can't. Mom's working tonight; I was going to make her dinner or something, maybe catch up on schoolwork—"

"We only have one year left until senior year," she says, cutting me off efficiently, "You can always redo homework, Evelyn, but you can never relive a party."

I roll my eyes. "That's the life motto of seniors who flunk out of college."

"And that's the life motto of people who've forgotten to have fun!" she quips, with a triumphant smile.

"I did have fun. Last night, I had fun! But I really, really don't want to—"

"Reed might be there!"

"Yeah, he might be, but that doesn't mean my mother deserves to go without a decent meal."

It comes out snappier than intended, and I feel bad the second the smile drops from her lips. I hardly talk about the situation with my mom, and although Georgie knows her story and how things came to be, it's something that I've always held personally and never really shared. So her reaction is perfectly expected—after all, even I'm shocked at my own reaction.

"Evelyn," she says, softly, and I hear the pity in her voice. I hate it. I hate it so much.

I try to laugh it off, to wave a nonchalant hand, but her hand is already clamped on top of mine and I can already feel myself begin to crumble.

"I'm okay," I say, gently moving her hand away. "I'm okay, Georgie, just—just not tonight, okay?"

All jokes and smiles have been erased.

"Okay," she says, biting her lip. "I'll tell Hale."

I blow out a breath of relief, glad that the awkward, emotional feeling inside of me has ebbed away, and that the look of sympathy in her gaze has, too.

"Thank you."

"I feel bad for leaving you," she says, and I shake my head.

"No, don't. You and Hale should go out and have fun! I'd just be extra baggage, y'know?"

Her face is dead serious when she replies, "No, you wouldn't."

She gets off of the bed then, collecting her purse and giving me one last, long look before blowing me a kiss and walking out, the door swinging to a close behind her.

I stare at it for a few seconds before opening my bag and working on that goddamn French poetry.

_________

"Hey," Mom says, knocking on my door after a while. I urge her in, and she sits beside me, tapping the pencil wedged behind my ear until it falls out. I glance up at her, and she smiles, brushing a stray hair behind my ear.

"Georgie said she was going out," she observes, with a contemplative look in her eyes, "Why didn't you go with her?"

I lift a shoulder. "Didn't feel like it."

She nods, then after a second,

"I have to go to work. You'll—you'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah," I say, through an incredulous laugh. "Why wouldn't I be?"

There's something like reluctance that flashes in her eyes as she nods again, biting her lip as if she wants to say something else, but then decides against it. She offers up one last half-hearted smile before sliding from the bed and out the door, closing it with a gentle nudge of her heel.

"Love you, Mom," I say, and like always, she's too far gone to hear it.

_________

I'm halfway through a rerun of The Office when my phone buzzes, brandishing an unidentified number across the top of the screen. Reluctantly, I unlock it and answer.

"Hello?"

The first thing I notice is music, loud and thumping. I hold the phone a few centimeters away from my ear, wincing at the sudden burst of static as the caller begins to speak.

"Evelyn!" Comes a jovial voice, and my heart nearly stops.

"Reed?"

"Yeah," he replies, and I can almost see the smile creeping up on his features, "Sorry if this is creepy—Georgina gave me your number. Said I might need it."

I hold back a groan. Of course she did.

Shaking my head, I sit up a little in my spot and ask,

"Why are you calling me if you're at a party?"

"Because it's so boring," he says, and I can tell from both the sarcasm in his voice and the hoots and hollers of the other partygoers that he's totally lying. There's a knowing pause, and then he sighs and says, "Alright, fine, maybe I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah?" I ask, and I feel that oh-my-God-is-this-real tugging in the pit of my stomach for what seems like the hundredth time, "And why is that?"

"Georgina told me you wanted to stay back. To cook dinner?"

"Yeah," I say, cautiously glancing over at the freshly-baked casserole that I've left on the counter, "So?"

"Well, is dinner finished? As in, you're free now?"

I pause, forcing back a laugh.

"Yes," I reply, my tone obviously tentative, but rightfully so.

"Okay," he says, "I'm going to leave this party and meet you at the park. At the end of your street, around the corner?"

"Reed, it's nearly midnight."

"And?"

"And—" I say, and then pause, unsure but wanting to go through with whatever he was planning anyway, "And I don't know."

"C'mon, Evelyn. We can race down the slides and play tag to our hearts' content."

I laugh at that, and he does, too. And part of me wonders how he does it—how he calls a girl and talks to her in the middle of what sounds like a raging party like everything's fine and perfectly normal.

"Georgina's coming, too," he says, "And Hale. So we won't be alone, but then again—"

"Then again, they won't even pay attention to us?" I laugh, and he responds with a hearty,

"Exactly."

There's a long, static-filled pause before he asks,

"So will you come?"

"I'm still in my pajamas."

"Who cares?"

I shake my head, looking down at myself and saying, "Um...they're fluffy and have sheep on them."

"Even better. Pajamas are underrated anyways. Especially fluffy ones adorned with cartoon livestock. See you there, Evelyn."

With that, he hangs up.

And who can say no to that?