“I’m not only talking about friends, you know.” My body freezes in an instant. Why did she have to bring that up? “Crushes and old boyfriends count, too.”
“What part of ‘I didn’t have any friends back then’ did you not understand?” I quietly tell myself to stay calm. I hadn’t thought about what would happen if I saw him there. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. “Besides, dating has never been my thing.”
“Who said anything about dating?” My stomach churns. Yuck. “Nothing wrong with a roll in the hay for old time’s sake. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of men who’d love to dispense some of that good love your way.”
“Eww—no, George, no.” I wouldn’t have become a pharmacist if I knew someone would make those kinds of jokes. “I’m good thanks.”
The party is in full swing by the time we arrive. We may be in one of the fanciest hotels in town, but it mirrors lunchtime in Peterson’s cafeteria all over again. There are at least a hundred people here, all neatly sorted into the typical cliques. Former jocks and cheerleaders are in one corner, probably reliving their glory days. The beautiful people are in another, looking like they just stepped off the runways of Paris and Milan. I recognize a few faces mingling together, all from my advanced placement and honors courses at Peterson.
Ten years might have passed but some things never change.
“Psh, they should have held this party at the high school and saved themselves some money,” George mused. “Nothing has changed.”
I nodded. “Guess we should start an outcast table.”
“Kay, I like the way you think.”
We share a laugh as we look for a table far away from all the other groups. “My granny was right. The more things change, the more things stay the same. Kinda sad if you think about it.”
“At least from here we can do some serious people watching.” I fully expect George to take a pair of opera glasses or a magnifying glass from out of her purse. I’m quite disappointed when she doesn’t. “Ick. I already see somebody I don’t want to see.”
“Really?” I raise a brow, curious. “Who?”
“The Ultimate Queen Bee herself.” George cocks her head and I look over to see a slender brunette standing in the distance, a group of our male peers staring in awe at her curve-hugging red cocktail dress and black heels with the iconic red sole. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair, confidence glowing inside her blue irises. She knew she looked good and you couldn’t tell her otherwise. Beside her stood a non-descript and diminutive man who looked comfortable giving up his agency for a beautiful woman. “Of course, Jenna Lewis would be here. She never misses an opportunity to be the center of attention.”
“Huh.” She isn’t wrong. Memories of Jenna throwing herself at Adrian flood into my mind. For some reason, she delighted in slamming him against his locker, kissing him passionately while I was fishing out my books for class. Giving him hickeys all over his neck was a sport to her. “She still looks the same, save for the longer hair. Must be nice being so beautiful.”
“Excuse me, we aren’t too shabby either.” The strawberry blonde did a small hair flip, flashing me her own confident smile. “Tell you what, though. Pretty sure all the heads will turn when her old flame wanders in. Hopefully they won’t kill each other like they almost did before graduation.”
“Old flame?” Memories of Jenna’s shrilly giggle echo inside my ears. I remember how much I hated hearing it because it only meant one thing—that she was picking up Adrian for a class, and the kisses would be noisy and messy. My stomach turns thinking about it. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe he didn’t come tonight.”
“You think Big D Campos wouldn’t come to his ten-year high school reunion?” My long sip of water shoots out of my mouth. Big... D? “Yeah, I doubt it.”
“I’m sorry, who?” I know who she means. I’m half hoping that I’m wrong. I’ve never heard him called that before. “I don’t know who Big D is.”
“Girl, you don’t know who Adrian Campos is?” So, I was right. Damn it. “He was one of, if not the hottest guy in our graduating class. A football and wrestling star. All the girls secretly called him ‘Big D’ because he’s got a big...”
“You don’t need to tell me that!” A few people look over to see why I’ve raised my voice. I look away, embarrassed. This is not how I imagined the night would go. “It’s none of my business, George.”
“What are you, five? We’re all adults here, Kay.” Just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean I want to know what someone is packing. “I mean, I know you’re still pure and all, but...”
“You know what? Why don’t we end the conversation right here?” Where is a hole or a ditch when you need one? “I actually want to be a normal person and mingle.”
“Good luck with that,” George replied with a wink. “Like the Cheshire Cat said, ‘we’re all a little mad here’.”
Mingling is a lot harder than I thought it would be. It’s easier for George. Her looks have done a one-eighty since high school. Her small but dedicated group of potential suitors surrounding her are unaware that the cute strawberry blonde they’re flirting with is the girl they tormented years before. I, on the other hand, have always had a hard time connecting with people. It doesn’t help that the ones I do connect with start asking me nosy questions. Questions I’m not keen on answering.
Where did you go after high school? “I went to Foster University and eventually got my PharmD degree. Er, my pharmacy degree.”
So, what do you do? “Um... I’m a pharmacist? I work at Wilson Drugs. Yes, that Wilson Drugs. The popular chain.”
Where do you live? “I live out in North Glen.” With my mom and grandma, but you don’t need to know that.
Are you seeing anyone? “Ah... no. I’ve been busy. Very busy.” You know, because becoming a licensed pharmacist takes a butt load of time. It’s not a lie. And yet they offer me pitying glances, because there must be something wrong with me if I’m twenty-eight years old and single.
That’s right. I’m twenty-eight years old. In two years, I’ll be thirty, and if I’m not married by then…
I walk over to the bar, shaking the thought out of my head. No, no, no. I refuse to go there. I’ll have a drink instead. I need a drink. An alcohol-free drink.
“Can I get a Shirley Temple, please?” The bartender looks at me in disbelief, wondering what kind of person would order a tame drink at an event where the booze freely flows. I stand my ground. “Thank you.”
The young man shakes his head before working his mixology magic. I check my watch; it’s only been an hour, but I already want out of this place. George will get on my case if I try to leave early, especially since we came here together. But I feel just as out of place as I did back in high school. A majority of that is my own fault. In high school, I willingly chose invisibility. The best thing about keeping a low profile is that no one notices or pays attention to you. The worst part about keeping a low profile is that no one notices or pays attention to you.