Parallel

lot to compare it to.”
    “Is rowing a big thing up there? Abby mentioned you’re on the crew team.”
    “You were wearing a Brookside Crew T-shirt yesterday,” I say quickly. “That’s how I knew. I mean, I didn’t really know, I just assumed. You know, because of the shirt.” Please, make the crazy girl stop talking. Caitlin and Tyler exchange a look in the rearview mirror.
    “So . . . rowing,” Tyler says. “That’s cool. Are we any good?”
    “I think we’re pretty decent,” Josh replies. “But ask me again in a couple weeks. Our first regatta is next weekend.”
    Tyler and Josh move on to golf and make small talk about the PGA tour until we arrive at Ilana’s. Her pink stucco house is nearly identical to the one next to it, except that hers has a deep bass beat emanating from inside. There are cars everywhere.
    “So this girl,” Josh says. “Is she a good friend of yours?” Caitlin snorts.
    “More like a friend of a friend,” I say, ignoring Caitlin.
    We head inside. The living room is packed. Tyler spots the golf team in the kitchen, holding pink plastic cups and huddled around what looks like a keg. Tyler shoots Caitlin a told-you-so look and heads toward it.
    It’s not a keg. It just looks like one. Sort of. It’s an aluminum barrel filled with red liquid. “‘Splenda Punch,’” Josh says, reading the bubble-letter label. The word “Splenda” is outlined in bright pink marker. “Looks lethal.”
    “It is,” Efrain, the most soft-spoken of Tyler’s golf buddies, pipes up. He’s cute in a Latino boy band kind of way, but he’s a total wallflower. Sometimes at lunch I forget he’s at the table. “I saw her make it,” Efrain says. “Grain alcohol, diet cherry soda, and about fifty packets of Splenda.” He nods in the direction of the living room. “She only started drinking an hour ago.” Ilana has her arms around a girl I don’t recognize, and the two are swaying to the beat. Or trying to. With the amount of alcohol coursing through their bodies, they’re not exactly in sync (with the music or each other). I laugh at the sight of them.
    “Ouch. She’s gonna be feeling that in the morning,” Josh says. He sounds legitimately concerned. Meanwhile, I’m the bitch who laughed. I’m feeling a wave of remorse when I hear, “Hey, Abby, nice scarf ,” followed by a high-pitched cackle. Ilana points at me and whispers something to the girl next to her, and they both crack up. Yeah, I hope she is feeling that in the morning. And all week.
    “So I have six beers,” Tyler announces. “Efrain’s drinking girly punch, Caitlin’s not having any ’cause she’s driving, and Abby never finishes more than one.” He opens a bottle and hands it to me. “So that leaves five for you and me to split,” he says to Josh.
    “Oh, that’s okay,” Josh says.
    “Nonsense,” Tyler tells him. “Beers are meant to be shared.” Before Josh can argue, Tyler puts the bottle in Josh’s hand. Josh holds the beer awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do with it. Tyler stashes the rest of his beer in the fridge, then heads toward the makeshift dance floor.
    “How long have they been dating?” Josh asks me.
    “Who?”
    “Caitlin and Tyler,” Josh replies. “They seem like a good couple.”
    “Oh! They’re not a couple,” I tell him. “The three of us have been friends forever. Tyler’s kind of with Ilana.” The word “unfortunately” hangs unspoken on my lips.
    Someone cranks the music and Ilana shrieks with glee. The kitchen-cabinet doors rattle on their hinges.
    “Which one is Ilana?” He practically has to shout, the music is so loud. So loud, and so painfully bad.
    I point.
    “Huh.” Josh studies Ilana, who is now slapping her friend’s butt in time with the music and laughing hysterically. “I wouldn’t have put them together.”
    Again, I’m tempted to add something witty and bitingly mean but refrain. “Yeah, it was a surprise to us, too,” is all I say.
    “What about Caitlin?” he asks then. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
    “Nope.” Then, even though it’s not really true, I add, “She doesn’t want one. She’s too focused on school for that.”
    “Yeah, she seems really smart,” Josh remarks. Why do I suddenly feel the need to announce my GPA? I look over at Caitlin. She’s standing by the keg, making small talk with the guys, keeping her distance so that Josh and I can be alone. She’s my biggest ally. Why am I acting like she’s a