Beyond Blonde by Teresa Toten

said.
    “Well,” I gathered up the lie, “I don’t know, here we are getting all gussied up for a party at Makeout Mansion again, and I just flashed to my first party there, remember?”
    “When we found out that you’d never been felt up or even kissed before?” Kit shook her head.
    “And we had to give you emergency slow-dance lessons?” said Madison.
    Sarah sighed. “Wow, a thousand years ago.”
    “Yeah,” I agreed. “And remember Ferguson Englehardt did his best to ‘make me a woman’? I swear for a minute I thought I was a lesbian.” Sarah and Madison snorted. “And then Luke came after me and well, and then he touched me.”
    “Should be a song.” Kit turned away.
    “We just have to find you someone new and fabulous!” gushed Sarah. “And we’ll do it tonight. I can just feel it.”
    “You just watch what and who you’re feeling, Sarah Davis,” warned Madison. “We’ve been lucky that our reputation isstill intact with all your enthusiastic feelings. We haven’t been to one of Anita’s parties in forever. This is a tri-high-school party, so …”
    “So our desirability quotient is on the line for Lawrence Heights, North Toronto Park, as well as Northern.” I bowed as Sarah and Kit clapped.
    “Oh, just behave,” groaned Madison. “I’m meeting Billy there, and I’ll be too busy to monitor us.”
    The party was raging by the time we got to Anita Shepard’s, aka Makeout Mansion. Kids spilled out of the house and onto the veranda and the lawn, even though it was cold enough to see your breath. The floor pulsed to the beat of “Boogie Fever” and the hallway reeked of incense, weed, and beer. I spotted Jessica Sherman in the far corner of the hallway with two other girls from our second string. They were a stoned, giggling heap on the floor. Not their best look.
    I was way too uptight to get that out of control. I barely drank at these things, just nursed a beer through the night while I nursed my party girl reputation at the same time. Weed? I didn’t know how to nurse that, so no way. The Blondes just thought scrunching up your face over a boogered joint was unseemly. Each one was a devoted Southern Comfort and Seven drinker.
    Anita’s had the perfect party layout. To the right was the living room, where it looked like the most devoted smokers and tokers were holding court. On the left of the hallway was the front parlour, where I headed after I grabbed a beer. The Blondes went straight for the family room in the back, where they would stash their booze in the mini-fridge. Thefamily room is where all the action took place, the dancing, the making out, although there were also other rooms for that. Anita’s always had a certain darkness, a wisp of danger. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt extra wispy tonight.
    Speaking of danger, damn, David was here. I almost turned and ran right out, but then I stiffened. No sir, no way, I had every bit as much right to be here as David Walter did. He was lounging on a back window seat with two girls hanging off him. It was like something out of a cheesy James Bond movie. Not that I cared.
    Then David saw me. He looked more put out than he usually did when he saw me.
    I took a sip of my beer and raised it to him.
    He looked even more irritated. What?! Did he hate immigrants, was it my hair, the Alison-Luke thing, what? One of the girls was nibbling his ear. I vaguely recognized her as a friend of Anita’s. I thought deeply uncharitable thoughts about her until I looked away. Then I looked back, but just out of the corner of my eye so he couldn’t tell I was looking. The other one—the one that wasn’t chewing on his ear like it was one of the seven food groups, was rubbing his stomach. Jesus God! I mean, under his shirt, in full view of everyone. It was appalling, but it was also like a car wreck. I couldn’t look away. Then Buddha, thank God, sent Sue Winger, a senior from Lawrence Park, over to me. Sue is a motor-mouth