Outgoing Stories

Dare (Part 1)

The party's going to be a disaster. I began to suspect it when Ronan Shaun arrived at nine o'clock, my suspicions grew stronger when Sam Berman joined us five minutes later, and by the time Colin Moss knocked on my door at nine thirty, I knew for sure.

Only the nerds have shown up.

It was all for nothing—breaking my promise that I wouldn't invite guests while Mom and Dad are out of town, wasting all my pocket money on food, even hiring our local homeless man to buy beer for our underage bunch. In the end, it's going to be another evening with the guys I usually hang out with—playing "Monopoly", watching TV. No dancing. No girls—and it's common knowledge there's no good party without girls.

I stand in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of TV coming from the dining room, eyeing the prepared mountain of junk food and the stack of unopened pizza boxes, fighting tears. I could never attract cool people. What made me think today would be any different?

Lights wash over my window, drawing my attention. I walk over to peer between the blinds, and then I just stop breathing.

Within seconds, I'm by the front door, throwing it open, and there he is—Bart Johnson. The sportsman, the hunk, the most popular guy in the whole freaking school. He's holding the car door open for Jen as she's getting out. She steps on the sidewalk, adjusting her short dress, and then the two of them are walking up our driveway. I almost see a shining aura about them, as if they were a couple of saints.

"Hey Dave," Bart says, stepping onto the porch, outstretching a hand. "Sorry we're late."

He gives me his wide, white smile which, as always, feels like a punch to the guts. It's so rare that I get to talk to him face to face and get smiled at in this good-humored way of his. In fact, this is only the eights smile he gave me since the beginning of the school year. I can say for sure because all our precious, rare interactions have been documented in my secret "Bart Johnson" diary, now tucked safely under the floorboards in my room.

I shake his hand, my throat too dry to answer. He nods, still smiling, and I just bask in his undivided attention. He's so friendly for a cool kid. Having three younger siblings, he must have developed some compassion for those weaker than him.

"Can we come in?" Jen says, and I hastily stumble to the side, realizing I've been blocking the door.

They head into the dining room and I follow, my heart gradually sinking. Now they will see that the party isn't happening, and they'll leave.

I step into the room and, sure enough, into a silent scene of my three nerdy friends staring at the most popular kid in our school.

"Where's everybody?" Jen says.

"Late, I guess," I croak, trying to delay the inevitable.

Bart gives me a long look. Then, he lets go of Jen's hand and strides into the kitchen. I follow to find him standing there, looking over the food I have prepared for this disaster.

"Late," he says, "aren't they?"

I nod, swallowing hard. They'll leave now. Evening of "Monopoly" and TV it is.

He retrieves a phone from his back pocket and, after a bit of tapping and scrolling, brings it to his ear.

"Kevin?" he says, looking out the window. "Are you coming to David's party, or what? Come on, don't be an idiot. It's awesome here. You don't want to miss it. What?" He glances at me and mouths 'Do you have alcohol?', to which I nod frantically. "Sure, tons of it," he says into the phone. "Bring the others, too. Tell Christen to bring her sisters, they're always in." He pauses, grinning. "See you, man."

He slips his phone back into his pocket before turning to me and awarding me his smile number nine.

"Let's get this party started," he says.

To be continued...