donât mean to yell, but thatâs kind of how it comes out. I am so angry Iâm pretty sure there is steam coming out of my ears. âI canât believe those jerks have a list! Am I on it?â I donât give Liv a chance to answer. âOf course Iâm on it. I just got dumped. I canât believe they put me on a list.â
âI donât actually know whoâs on it,â says Liv. âI didnât get to see it.â
âWell, I know how to find out. Whereâs Weston?â I think I saw him watching a fight in the front yard.
Liv catches me by the wrist. âWe arenât supposed to know. You canât say anything to him.â
âI canât know something like this and not do something about it!â It comes out louder than I mean it to again, and this time people hear. And not just any people. Cheerleader people. Crap.
A few of the girls flit over, all raised eyebrows and sideways glances at each other. Aubrey leads the charge, putting a hand on my arm and cocking her blonde head to the side in concern.
âAre you okay, sweetie? Is it about Weston?â
âHe totally sucks,â says Chloe.
Beth nods fervently. âThe whole squad hates him for what he did to you.â
âIâm fine, yâall, really. I am so over him,â I say with a winning smile.
Liv stands at my side, but they arenât really acknowledging that sheâs there. High school caste system in action. Chloe and Beth are giving me sad, hopeful looks. Sad because thatâs what theyâre pretending to be. Hopeful because theyâre failing. They are actually prissy debutante hags who would like nothing more than to see me go âcrazy trainâ over Weston in public.
âDo you want to go somewhere and talk about it?â asks Beth.
I think Iâve had about all the heart-to-hearts I can take for the night.
âNah. Iâm off to find my next victim.â
âText me if you need anything,â says Aubrey, who is actually pretty great to talk to even if she canât keep a secret to save her life.
âI will. Wish me luck.â I grin at them before I walk away.
I kind of said that stuff to get away from them, but boy-finding really was part of my plan for tonight. Plus, Weston totally deserves it since he broke up with me over a freaking list.
The kitchen is the heart of any party, so thatâs where I head first. There are not one but two kegsâthe guys have really gone all out this time, and the winding beer line is where I begin my search for my next boyfriend. I have to work fast. Whoever moves on first wins.
Being on a guy search makes me feel like Iâm some kind of robot girl. I can practically see the info on each boy pop up in my view screen as I assess the candidates. Thereâs a guy from my health class pumping the keg.
Terry Hanes. Blond hair. Track team. Kind of goofy. Expiration date: five months from now. Meh. I think he has horrible breath.
The guy standing next to him with an empty cup, Iâve known since second grade. When he used to sneak behind the cubbies and eat glue. He hasnât changed a whole lot since then. Iâm kind of surprised he got an invite. And is that a faint white residue I detect on his lips? Hell. No.
In the dining room, Big Tom tortures some rookies with forties duct-taped around their wrists.
âThis is the sorriest game of Edward Fortyhands Iâve ever seen. Mason, I had no idea you were such a little bitch.â
He pushes one guy, Mason, I guess, in the shoulder. The bottle slips out of Masonâs mouth and beer spills down his shirt.
âI gotta pee,â whines Mason in a voice that makes me fear for Caseyâs momâs dining roomchairs.
âWell, then I guess you better drink faster.â
Some guy vomits in the corner, and Mason gets a reprieve.
âVomiting is an immediate disqualification,â yells Big Tom.
I stifle my own gag