"Penny," I wave her over to the booth.

"What?" She stands by us holding her notepad.

"What?" Danny questions her, "you're our waitress."

"And?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Can we get a couple of burgers, please?" I chuckle.

"Mhm, anything else?"

"I'll take a cola, and uh— Leo will have water."

"...sure, why not?" I say confusedly.

"Nothing but water until you and Matt are cool again."

"Because hydration is the worst thing you can think of," I say sarcastically.

"Shut up," he jokingly rolled his eyes, "I figure that if you feel good, you'll do good. You know, find Matt and hash it out."

"I already feel good," I shrug, "water or soda, I'm happy."

"Alright, so we'll end this shit tomorrow."

I inhale sharply, "I can't..."

"Why, you got something better to do?" Danny says skeptically.

"I— wouldn't say better...but-" He looks at me unamused. "Fine, I'm meeting up with Heather."

Danny crossed his arms and leaned back in the booth.

"You hooked up again, didn't you?"

"No...hooking up implies sex, and we just kissed."

"Kissed?" He said slyly as if he knew there was something more.

"...she might've been on top of me...just a bit..."

He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, "Look at that smirk on your face, you're full of shit. What else happened?"

"That's it, really," I replied.

"So, where are you hanging tomorrow?"

"Her place," I shrug and then look away when I see his facial expression, "Stop..."

"I'm not doing anything," he says smugly.

"You're giving me that 'Heather's near' look, and she's not even around."

"Well, now it's not a 'Heather's near' look, it's a 'so, you're seeing Heather naked' look."

"We're talking about something else now, okay?"

"Where were her hands when she was kind of on top?"

"Penny!" I say in relief when I see her walking over, "right on time."

"Do you need anything more before the food comes out?" She says as she places our cups down in front of us.

"Oh-"

"Don't bother answering, I'm taking my break," she sits next to me.

"This is why I never tip you," Danny says as he opens his straw.

"Leo does, so I don't care."

"His mom would kill him if he didn't."

Can't argue with that...

"Anyway," she rolls her eyes, "did you guys hear about Devon Saltzan?"

"The chick who used to live in Leo's apartment building?" Danny asks.

"Yeah, and then she started dating that senior guy I graduated with," Penny adds.

"So, what about her?" I ask.

"She's totally pregnant. I saw her this morning, it's a boy."

"I don't know about you two, but I'm not surprised," Danny chuckles.

I'm not either, but I'm not gonna say I called it. That senior she was with already had a kid when he met her.

"No one's surprised, Danny. Other than her mom...who threw her out when she started showing," Penny sighs.

"Where'd you see her at?" I furrow my eyebrows. I haven't seen Devon since Miller High.

"Well, you know my ex-boyfriend Caleb? He's back here for Christmas break...so, I went to his apartment to get some stuff I left there. Devon was outside talking to Caleb's new little jailbait girlfriend."

"Jailbait girlfriend?" I snicker.

"Some high school girl with fake red hair," Penny said in annoyance.

Danny and I seemed to give each other the same look.

"...Cherry?" He asked.

"Stupid name," she nodded.

"Yeah— that's her real hair color," I say before taking a sip of my water. Penny raises her eyebrows at me and I shrug. "Carpets match the drapes..."

"Ugh, you're disgusting," she stands up irritatedly.

I put my hands up in confusion.

"Aw, she's jealous of Cherry Marshall," Danny teased, "either you're really popular with the ladies lately...or she still likes Caleb."

"I do not like him anymore, and I'm not jealous. Screwing high schoolers is not an accomplishment. I could do that too, you know?"

"Well, we're both taken, so," Danny continues.

"Taken?" Penny looks at me in surprise, and I shake my head before staring down at the table.

"I'll ask Matt to do you a solid...because I think I just found him," Danny said proudly, "Caleb Mathers was Tommy's best friend...who better to let him hide out?"

"Sleep well?" Tony smirks as I walk into the sitting room.

I glare at him, "my room is on the same floor as Trevor's, what do you think?"

He chuckles, "yeah, I'm surprised you didn't notice that no one was after that room but you."

"Thanks for the warning."

"I got stuck with it last time," Tony shrugged, "lesson learned...though, I didn't mind it too much. It's not the saddest thing."

"No, the saddest thing is that you're always here alone," I narrow my eyes at him.

"Well, yeah, vacation is supposed to be about yourself. I don't want to put my chances of having a good or bad time in the hand of someone else."

"Whatever."

"I thought you'd agree...considering you're alone all the time."

I stayed silent in surprise that he'd actually say that to me. Who are you to try to make observations about me?

Before I could ask, the door opened into the dining room, and Ethan walked in. He's wearing a white button-down shirt, but it's unbuttoned...and he looks good in light shades. God, I hate him.

"Good morning," he announces as he walks into the room. I know it's not meant for me, so I don't respond.

"Where's your friend?" Tony asks.

"She's still in bed," Ethan replies slyly with a shrug.

"Mm," Tony nods, "wore out, I guess."

"I guess," Ethan smirks at him. He looks past me, he always does that...only interacting with me when he has to.

That's probably what kills...I get this pang in my chest whenever he comes up and greets the person I'm standing with and simply pretends I'm not there. I wish I didn't care, it's been too long for me to still care.

"Are you hungry?" Tony asks.

"Uh— yes, actually," I respond, hoping Tony will suggest going somewhere else...literally anywhere else.

"Ethan's making omelets," Tony smiles, "for us too, right?" He calls out to him...meaning he hadn't previously asked.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I will-"

"I'll do it," Ethan says.

"...thanks."

He shrugged and then nodded.

I tore my eyes away from him reluctantly. It's frustrating that I still have the urge to stare.

Almost as frustrating as the fact that God decided to send the worst people in the best packaging.

"You shouldn't wait around in here," Peyton says, "this is a mall...go shopping."

"Well...this is a store," I shrug, "maybe I am shopping."

"Mm, yeah," she says sarcastically, "can I help you find a prom dress, sir?"

I sigh and roll my eyes, "when is your lunch break?"

"Not for another 2-hours, so go," Peyton waves me off.

"Where?"

"Here," she sighs and hands me her purse from behind the counter, "I have a ten-dollar bill somewhere in there, take it and go to Orange Julius or something. I have customers, okay?"

"Fine."

She walked toward where two girls came in, "hi, my name is Peyton, let me know if I can help you with anything."

"Hi, my name is Peyton, let me know meh meh meh," I mimic in annoyance.

I unzip her purse and sift through the lip gloss, loose change, gum, and hair ties. I found the folded-up dollar at the bottom under a colored condom.

My eyes shifted up to see if she was looking, and when she wasn't, I slid the money and the green condom into my pocket.

"Hey— if you leave before me, tell mom I might be staying out tonight," Peyton calls out as I walk past her and out of the store.

I don't come to the mall, usually. I haven't had new clothes since my last growth spurt. Besides, no one I hang out with likes to come to the mall.

Danny says it's a girl thing, and if he's right, it'd only get me beat up more.

Which is probably why I flinched at the sound of shouting somewhere behind me.

"Race you to the arcade!" The loud voice sounds, and I look over my shoulder to see where the disturbance is.

"...fuck," I say to myself when I see Riley, Evan, and another guy charging in my direction.

I start inching to the left before completely running into the closest store I could find, Spencer Gifts.

Hopefully, they didn't see me...I hate facing Evan with his friends...or him alone, now. It's like we're spinning in opposite directions and yet still keep crashing into each other. What's up with that?

I duck down behind a rack of sunglasses and try to wait for the sound of feet stomping the ground to pass me by.

"Are you looking for something?"

I jump and turn quickly and see the guy who was once behind the register is now in front of me.

"No, I was just-" I peer through the racks and catch a glimpse of them passing the store.

"Oh, were you hiding?" The guy says in concern. "My bad, people like to steal from here a lot, it gets me in trouble."

Yeah, in that case, I should apologize as well.

"I wasn't hiding...just avoiding," I shrug.

He chuckles, "it's none of my business, but you'd be harder to find behind the backpacks."

"Thanks for the tip," I say sarcastically and start browsing the shelves.

He smirks to himself and refocuses his attention on something else, only glancing up to make sure I'm not heading toward the vibrators, I guess. It's weird how the aisles jump from lava lamps to sex toys so unsubtly. But, this lava lamp is cool.

"Do you want it?" He asks.

"I don't have enough."

"How much do you have?"

"Just ten bucks," I sigh.

"Then maybe it's ten bucks," he says with a sly smile.

"Won't you get in trouble?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"Not if I make up the rest by the end of the day," he shrugged, "people let me keep the change a lot. They just want to leave with their x-ray glasses and dildos."

I laugh lightly, "well, thanks, but even if you won't get in trouble, I will. My mom thinks I'll end up hurting myself or something if I get one."

"How old are you?" He says in confusion.

I think about lying, but I don't look any older than 16, so what's the point?

"15," I reply.

"You're all good then," he says casually. "This—" I watch as he holds up a candle, "might be too much for you. I would definitely say it'd be a danger in your hands."

"A candle?" I scoff. He turns it so I can see the label. "A sex scented candle?"

"It piques your interest, doesn't it?" He nods, "I'm a candle guy, and there are dick shaped ones because— this is Spencer Gift's and there's dick-shaped everything, but I thought I'd look immature with it."

"How old are you?" I ask out of curiosity.

"17, but I wore a tie in my interview, that really sold it for them."

"Yeah? I'm not even sure if I'm allowed in here," I say honestly, my mom would probably freak.

"Me neither, I told my parents that I work at Dippin' dots," he smiled, and I returned his smile with one of my own. "I'm Aaron...I should have mentioned that before whipping out the candle."

"I'm Zach...and I think I'll buy the candle, instead."

"What a rebel," he smirks, "I guess you won't have to owe me then."

"Lucky for me," I nod and shrug.

"Well, maybe you'll come back...for the lamp, of course."

My mother sighs, "can't you wear something appropriate for dinner. We have guests."

"What's wrong with this dress?" I look down at the lavender-colored material.

"There's a nice grey one in your closet. I bought it last week, I had hoped you'd see it and decide to wear it yourself."

"Oh, but then you wouldn't be able to control me," I mutter almost inaudibly.

I head into my closet and see the dress in the plastic garment bag. It's plain and her design, in other words, appropriate for dinner with guests.

We're hosting an art dealer for potential hire because my mom would like to better decorate a house she hardly lives in.

"Hurry down, darling, I think they've arrived."

"Um— have you been throwing things out again?" I frantically sift through the rack for what's missing.

"Yes, last year's fall Chanel and that ungodly flannel shir-"

"You threw it away?" I huff and come out to be face to face with her, "that was given to me, you had no right."

"Hm," she crosses her arms, "what you could possibly see in a boy who gifts you cheap synthetic blends, I will never know. Now, get dressed and be polite to our new friends."

She shuts the door before I could get another word out.

I groan in annoyance and start to unzip the dress I already have on.

"Cheap synthetic blends," I mutter to myself and pace around my room trying to undo the zipper, "I'm warmer and happier in his cheap synthetic blends."

I sigh when I finally acknowledge it's stuck...and I don't care. I take the grey dress out of its plastic covering and walk into my bathroom, tossing it into the small bin. Let's say it's out of season.

"Heather, would you come down? There's someone I'd like to introduce you to," my dad calls up the stairs.

"Alright already," I respond as I reach the staircase, "I'm coming."

"Ah— there she is. Preston, this is my daughter Heather," my dad holds his hand out for me to take and guides me down the last few steps.

"You look a little young to be an art dealer," I narrow my eyes in confusion at the boy who can't be older than 20.

"That's good because I'm not," he chuckles, "my mother is," Preston motions over to the lady talking to my mom.

"Preston attends St. James school for boys on the Upper West Side," my dad says proudly.

"Oh, that must be...nice."

"That was convincing," he replies jokingly. "It's honestly not so bad, I'm free of distractions, to say the least."

"Perhaps you'd benefit from a girls' school," my father suggests.

"Perhaps not," I say sternly, "would you excuse me, Preston?" I walk around him and head toward the kitchen.

My mom likes to order meals and then put them in dishes and containers as if she cooked it herself. Somehow, that fools our naive dinner company despite there being no signs of cooking.

"Heather," she complains as I eat grapes off of the fruit tray, "that is for the table— would you take it there, please? Also, what are you wearing?" My mother sighs, "I asked you to change out of that."

"Did you?" I tilt my head curiously.

She presses her lips into a thin line before turning back to the art woman, "shall we get dinner started?"

I roll my eyes at her facade of hospitality and move to take a seat in the dining area. It fills up shortly after I'm seated, and my dad plays one of Chopin's Nocturnes on the record player.

"Everything smells great, Mister and Missus Blakely," Preston compliments as he seats himself in front of me.

"Thank you, darling," my mom graciously accepts.

"Can I interest you in a glass of wine, Delia?" My dad asks the lady.

"Oh, I shouldn't..." she tries to be modest, "maybe just a taste."

"And a small taste for the children too," he chuckles and begins pouring red wine into glasses.

"I'll take the bottle," I sigh and all eyes center on me.

"...she's only kidding, she does that," my mom laughs awkwardly.

"Of course," Delia smiles.

"So, Preston, I hear you're seeking admittance to Yale."

"Yes, Mrs. Blakely, I'll know for sure in a month."

"Heather is also applying," she brags.

"Hopefully, we'll see each other there," he smiles at me.

"One could dream," I say indifferently.

"It's refreshing to see a young man of your stature, so kind and respectful. I imagine you're quite popular among girls and boys alike."

He looks down as though compliments embarrass him, "I don't know. I have plenty of great friends, but I don't date much. I just enjoy the company of others."

"Anyone would be lucky to have you," my mother glances over at me, "well dressed, polite, raised properly, and nothing to be ashamed of. Well done, Delia."

"Here's to great parenting," she raises her glass.

"And here's to beautiful friendships," my dad adds, and then looks back and forth from me to Preston, "for all of us."

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