Chapter 3

Chapter 3

People came. Twelve to be exact. So with me and Jack, that made fourteen. We were only freshman, so most of our friend group hadn't coupled off yet. It didn't surprise me that they were looking for something to do today.

The group filled the basement decently. There was mingling around the food, where people dipped carrots into ranch while reading our pro-single signs. There was laughing by the couch where people listened to the power playlist I had curated that was now flowing through the speakers. There was even someone at the table where I had set up a game of solitaire. She was playing it. Alone.

It was going perfectly. I was standing by the couch observing the splendor of our creation, when Troy came up to me and said, "Let's play spin the bottle."

I didn't know him well. Jack and I shared most friends. But for some reason, when we got to high school, even though we'd been inseparable before, sometimes we found ourselves in different groups at lunch. He liked robotics, and I didn't. I liked musicals and he didn't. We had both joined clubs associated with those interests and found friends that didn't know one another. It felt wrong sometimes, like now, when Troy said something no friend of mine celebrating singlehood would ever say.

"We don't play games that encourage coupling off at a singles party," I said.

"Says who?" he asked.

"Says the person who is throwing this party." I jotted down the name Juliet on a yellow sticky note and stuck it to his head. Troy was handsome—a Black guy with a killer smile and smiling eyes. He wouldn't be expecting Juliet. "Try to get people to guess which famous should've stayed single person you are," I said.

"Am I still alive?" he asked me, catching on to the game quickly.

"Nope," I said.

"Am I—"

"You can't ask the same person two questions in a row."

"Good rule." He was a gamer, Jack had once told me, so I was sure he appreciated solid parameters to a game. He left me to go ask others while I wrote more names on papers and distributed them. Jack joined me, adding names of his own to pass out.

"Write one for me," I said.

He nodded, wrote something then stuck the paper to my forehead with a little too much gusto.

"Ouch," I said drily.

He cringed. "Sorry!"

"Have you been wanting to do that for a while?"

"Smack you on the forehead?" he asked.

"Yes."

He shrugged then laughed. "No, of course not; it really was an accident. No subconscious agenda going on." He took me by the cheeks and kissed my forehead, right on top of the sticky note. "Better?"

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. "Thanks, Dad."

I wrote Jack from Titanic on a sticky note and reached up to attach it.

He jerked back. "No retaliation."

"Give me your forehead."

He took a resigned breath and held still. I gently placed the name right in the center.

"Great, now I feel even worse."

"I can't get you back when you're expecting it."

He laughed.

"You'll appreciate this one, by the way" I said, pointing to his forehead. And not just because he had the same name but because when he and I had watched the movie together, Jack had said something like, If he hadn't been so worried about Rose, he could've found a door of his own.

"Am I real or fictional?" he asked.

"Fictional," I said. "What about me?"

"Real," he said, a smirk on his face.

I knew that smirk. "Did you write something stupid on mine? Is it someone only you'd know?"

"No, it's a good one."

We stared at each other, knowing we couldn't ask another question without asking someone else first. I could tell we both wanted to break that rule.

Troy walked by and Jack grabbed him by the arm, "Am I a guy?"

"Yes," Troy said. Then he pointed to his forehead. "Wait, am I a guy?"

"No," Jack said.

"Good to know," Troy said.

"What about me?" I asked Troy. His eyes went to my paper and then scrunched in confusion. "A girl?"

"You don't know?" I asked.

"I don't know that person."

Back to Jack I asked, "Is this someone I'll know?"

"Yes," he said. "Very well."

"Do I know mine?" Jack asked.

"Yes," I said. We stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching other people scurry around, asking questions about their mystery person.

"Are your parents going out tonight?" I asked.

"No, my dad probably got home late." Jack's parents fought a lot, and I knew it bothered him. That's why we spent more time at my house than his. "My mom most likely asked him why he didn't bring home flowers or dinner or anything. He'll suggest a movie and proceed to fall asleep on the couch."

Maybe this was another reason I wanted to do this party. Because Jack didn't need to see the same scene play out year after year at his house.

He pointed to his sticky note. "Better go ask around then."

"Good luck."

As he left, Sage joined me, crunching on a piece of celery. "I haven't met him yet," she said, waving the celery around like a wand.

"Jack? You haven't met Jack?" I shouldn't have been surprised. Like I said, he and I had a couple different interests and I knew Sage from Drama Club.

"I've seen him around with you, but no, we haven't met. He's cute," she said.

I blinked. It wasn't that I didn't think Jack was cute. He was cute in a boyish, nerdy way. But I'd known him since we were kids, so I'd never thought of him as anything more than my best friend. The best friend I'd ever had. He was sweet and smart and funny, but there was never any sort of attraction.

"Will you introduce me?"

"Yeah, of course. But this is a singles party, we're taking back Valentine's Day, so don't get any ideas."

"I'll save my ideas until tomorrow."

I smiled. "Thank you."

I wondered if Sage was Jack's type. Neither he or I had ever had a serious romantic relationship. We often pointed out people we thought were cute, or pointed out someone we thought the other should date. And Sage was someone I would've picked out for Jack. She was cute: petite with short, dark hair and big brown eyes. Pretty much the opposite of me. I was tall, taller than most of the boys I knew, in fact. I had long strawberry blonde hair and gray-blue eyes.

Sage tapped her forehead where the name Maria/West Side Story was on her sticky note. "Am I from the present day?"

"No," I said.

She looked at my note and smiled. "Who wrote that?"

"Jack. The one you think is cute."

"He's funny too? Even better."

I was dying to take off my sticky note and look but I couldn't cheat at my own game.

"This was a good idea," she said. "This party. Are you going to do one every year?"

"I think so," I said. "It's nice to have choices. Not everyone wants to go to the love fest."

"Exactly." She looked at me expectantly, then her eyes traveled to Jack and I realized that she was waiting for the introduction.

"Come on." I took her to where Jack was standing by one of the pinball machines watching Simon slap at the buttons, obviously not understanding the beauty of timing. I placed my hand on Jack's arm.

"Am I annoying?" Jack asked, facing me.

I knew he was talking about the person on his forehead, but Sage let out a surprised, "Huh?"

"No, I don't think so. You're charming."

"Charming..." He scrunched one eye in thought.

"But poor," I added.

He released an indignant huff. "Poor is not the opposite of charming."

"Just stating a fact. What about me?" I asked.

"Only annoying sometimes. When you have inconsistent rules."

Now I was even more confused. Who had he written? "Oh, this is Sage, by the way. She's in Drama Club with me."

He turned toward her. "Hi, nice to meet you. Am I in a movie?"

She finally caught on that we were talking about our forehead people. "Yes, actually. What about me?"

"Yes, but also other forms of media."

"Other forms? Like books? Plays? Songs?"

"Yes," he said.

"Wait, am I Cinderella?" someone called out from the couch.

"She should've stayed single?" someone else asked in obvious disagreement.

"Yes!" the trio of girls by the sugar cookies said.

Jack smirked at me like he thought Cinderella didn't fit the criteria. I just raised my eyebrows at him: With a cardboard cutout option like Prince Charming, who couldn't even recognize her without fancy clothes on, yes, she did.

The smell of melty cheese and pepperoni hit me before my dad appeared carrying eight boxes of pizza. "Hey," he said. "Thought you could use some real food."

I rushed over to help him slide the boxes onto the game table. "Thanks, Dad." Mom followed with a stack of paper plates and napkins. Our friends let out appreciative exclamations.

"You guys look nice," I said, taking in their dressy attire. My mom wore a skirt and floral blouse. Her hair was in beachy waves and her lips were painted a rosy mauve. My dad wore some khakis and a polo. His hair was gelled and his beard was neatly trimmed.

"Thanks," Mom said. "Also, why is my name on your forehead?"

I ripped off the sticky note and sure enough, in Jack's scratchy handwriting was my mom's name: Kelly Landry.

I shot Jack some narrow eyes but he wasn't looking. "It's just a game we're playing," I said to Mom.

"Guess your hero?" she asked with a wink.

"Something like that."

"We're heading out," Dad said.

"You going to be okay here?" Mom asked.

I smiled. I wanted to remind her how much I did on my own. How I was basically an only child with two working parents. "Of course."

"Good," she said.

"Are you going to be okay out there?" I teased.

"We'll do our best."

"Enjoy the pizza!" Dad said to the room as they left.

The group gathered around the table, digging into the pizza boxes. I marched straight up to Jack, who was still talking to Sage by the pinball machine. I wondered what common ground they were finding. Maybe he was telling her about his favorite band. He had the animated expression on his face that always accompanied that conversation.

I held up my sticky note. "Really?"

He laughed. "It was funny."

"My mom did not fit the criteria."

"What was the criteria again?" Sage asked.

"People who would've been better off single."

She playfully smacked Jack's arm like they'd been friends for ages. "Not cool," she said. "Scarlett's parents are great."

"I know," he said. "That's why it's a good joke."

Troy held up an empty two-liter Dr. Pepper bottle. "I still think spin the bottle should be in play. What better way to celebrate singlehood than to kiss anyone you want? Multiple anyones."

"No!" both Jack and I yelled at the same time.

We looked at each other and smiled.

"Fine," Troy said. "Seven minutes in the closet then."

He steered Jack toward the only closet in the room: a game closet by the bathroom. Jack must've told him we were playing that at some point. I followed, wondering if I needed to move anything to make room for a body. I opened the door only to have someone else shove me in along with Jack and shut the door behind us.