The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

Alisha throws her head back and laughs. “You’re one of them now!”

I dump the rest of the beer down the sink and throw the empty can in Alisha’s specially marked bag. “Darpan swears he’s taking it to the recycling center tomorrow, before our parents get home. But I’m going to bet that I’m the one who takes it because he’s going to be too hungover.”

“I’ll help you collect bottles and cans tonight,” I say, shrugging off my coat and laying it over a chair at the kitchen table. It’s a lot hotter in the kitchen, and given my somewhat wobbly state, it’s probably best if I get out of it for a little bit.

“Thanks, that would be so, so awesome,” Alisha beams, as the timer goes off on the oven. “The less to do later, the better!”

I take a few grocery bags out into the living room, where a couple of people I recognize say hello to me. I take a moment to gauge what everyone else is wearing and realize I totally overthought my ensemble, since every other girl is also in jeans and boots.

I roll my eyes at my earlier angst and grab some cans and bottles off the floor. It seems like a lot of the crowd is gathered now in the dining room, where beer pong has been set up.

A group of four girls, cheerleaders, I think, are dancing all up on each other, and if they’re doing it to make the guys salivate, they’ve succeeded. Jared, for example, is staring at them openmouthed from across the room. It’s so rare to see him speechless about anything that I actually laugh.

That’s when I hear it.

“Oh my god, Hunter, everyone’s here!”

My hands twist around the top of the grocery bag as if on reflex. I don’t even need to look to know it’s Brynn. Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment, because I turn to see Steve, Hunter, and Brynn coming through the front door. Or, should I say, Brynn staggering through the door.

“Someone’s wasted already,” Tasha Harrison, the captain of the softball team, says from the couch. Her boyfriend, Nate Yu, just kind of stares in disbelief.

“Yes, ma’am!” Brynn yells back, shoving her fist in the air. Kim’s party must’ve been a dressier occasion because the guys are wearing ties under their sweaters and Brynn’s in a black sheath dress with a purple cardigan.

“She, uh, had a little too much wine,” Hunter says with what sounds like a forced laugh.

“I wanted to be loose,” Brynn says loudly. “For this party!”

I am definitely not in the right headspace for this. Maybe I should have finished that beer after all.

Brynn plops down on the couch, pushing Tasha practically onto Nate’s lap. “We almost didn’t come, but then I was like, ‘These are our classmates. We really should be bonding with them instead of scorning them.’” She doesn’t seem to notice Tasha and Nate roll their eyes at each other when she says this.

Hunter smiles tightly and then seems to notice that I’m staring at them. You’re not supposed to be here is probably the expression I’m wearing because he looks apologetic.

I scoot my way through the throngs, back to the kitchen, where Alisha is arranging some mini pizzas on a plate.

“Holy crap, are you okay?” she asks. “You look like your head’s about to explode.”

“Brynn and Hunter are here,” I say, and Alisha’s face falls.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” she says. “If you want to go…”

But suddenly, a flicker of defiance comes alive in me. I don’t know if I drank enough beer for it to have been “liquid courage” but something is making me feel brave.

“No. I’m not letting them scare me away from a perfectly good party!”

“Rock on,” Alisha says, giving me a high five.

I grab a plate of mini meatballs and march back out into the living room. If I can’t bond with my classmates over alcohol, by god, I’ll do it by feeding them.

And sure enough, everyone swarms around me the second I get back to the living room. They smile and say hello and, really, the alcohol hasn’t made them mean or nasty like I feared. Instead, they’re all just really hungry. I look for Hunter, as if to say, “See? I don’t need you,” but I don’t see him or Brynn on the couch anymore. Probably off making out somewhere and messing up—

“Oh my god, she’s totally going to vom!” someone yells.

I turn in time to see Brynn running into the living room, her hand over her mouth. Hunter is behind her, his hands full with a red cup and giant bottle of water. When Brynn stops suddenly by the fireplace, Hunter leans over her shoulder and whispers something, and that gets her to turn around … and puke all over his sweater.

“Ugh” is the general crowd consensus as everyone clears the vicinity. I feel like this should be a victorious moment for me, but I’m too grossed out to feel anything but skeeved.

Hunter stands there seemingly conflicted between wanting to help Brynn and wanting to take his sweater off.

“Dude, get her outside, now,” Darpan yells. “She got some on the rug.”

Everyone is just kind of staring at them, and some people start to laugh. Brynn is completely green, and Hunter looks like he wants to evaporate right there. Nope, the only victory I feel here is that this isn’t my living room. Which makes me instantly feel for Alisha.

I step over to them, but stay a good few feet away. Hunter eyes me up and down, as if he’s surprised I’m daring to be anywhere near them at the moment. “Go clean yourself up and then clean the rug,” I say as briskly as possible. “I’ll take her outside.”

“Ellie, you don’t—”

“No, I do. I don’t want Alisha’s house getting drenched in vomit.”

Hunter nods. “Thanks.”

Since I don’t want to be thrown up on, I steer Brynn from behind by her shoulders out to the front porch. I grab a few of my grocery bags