Watch Me Disappear

charming.
    “And in case you forgot me, I’m John,” says the guy who introduced Paul. He takes my hand and kisses it. I am too stunned by all this to do much of anything.
    “Now, boys,” Katherine says, rescuing me when she’s deemed I’m sufficiently flustered. “Don’t embarrass our new friend.”
    Thankfully everyone backs off. People resume the conversations Katherine had interrupted to introduce me and I wish I was still standing off to the side with Missy. Here in the middle of the patio in Maura’s inner circle, I have no one to talk to. I stand by myself for a minute, and then I start back toward Missy.
    “Lizzie,” a voice says behind me.
    I stop and turn around. It’s Hunter. He reintroduces himself, which is totally unnecessary.
    “What’s your friend’s name?” he asks gesturing toward Missy.
    Of course he wants to meet her. “That’s Missy Howston,” I say.
    “She was at the battle of the bands with you.”
    “Yep,” I say. When he doesn’t say anything else, I ask him if he wants me to introduce him.
    “Maybe later,” he says. “Nice to meet you.” And he turns to walk back to his friends.
    Yeah, nice to meet you, too, I think.
     
    *          *          *
     
    It isn’t long before the DJ announces that everyone should take a seat for dinner. My mother signals me unmistakably to come sit with her and my father.
    Missy and I walk over to the table where my mother saved us seats.
    “So are you girls having fun?” my dad asks when everyone is seated and we have been introduced to the others at our table, Mr. and Mrs. Beaudry and Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, who also live on our cul-de-sac.
    “This is fantastic,” Missy says. Fantastic is her word of the day.
    “It sure is some party,” my dad replies.
    “The Morgans spare no expense,” Mrs. Perkins adds.
    “Every year it gets bigger and better,” says Mrs. Beaudry.
    “Do you golf, Greg?” asks Mr. Beaudry, and the table splits into several conversations at once.
    After we eat our salad and before dinner is served, I nudge Missy and excuse myself to the ladies’ room. She follows me.
    “Why so glum?” she asks, leaning against the sinks while I listlessly rearrange my bangs.
    “This party sucks,” I say.
    “Seriously?”
    “It’s boring.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. This is the best people-watching I’ve had since my last trip to New York.”
    I try not to pout, but I can’t help it.
    “Did something happen when you met everyone?”
    “Some of the guys acted like real dicks, you know?”
    “What did you expect?” Missy says. “They’re the cool kids. They aren’t going to fall all over your feet and beg you to like them.”
    “Whatever.”
    “I saw you talking to Hunter,” Missy says.
    I sigh and then say, “He likes you.”
    “He hasn’t even met me,” Missy says.
    “He only talked to me to ask me about you.”
    “Well what did he say?” If anyone else asked that question, I would think they were asking because they were flattered, but I can tell from Missy’s tone she’s asking because she wants to show me how silly I am being.
    “He wanted to know who you were.”
    “Right. Everyone wants to know who we are,” she says. “We’re the new girls.”
    “No, they want to know who you are.”
    “Well, you’re the one who got the endorsement from Maura’s lady-in-waiting. You’re the one who actually got an introduction.”
    “I think they’re up to something,” I say.
    “Stop it, Miss Cynicism. We’re here to have fun. After dinner, there’s going to be dancing.”
    “Oh, God.”
    “Let’s go,” Missy says, leading me back to the table.
     
    *          *          *
     
    Missy is right. There is dancing after dinner. Or at least there is a DJ loudly playing dance music and half-heartedly encouraging people to fill the dance floor. The adults have regrouped near the bar, and for some reason the teenaged crowd seems to have shrunk. Missy keeps tapping her foot and swaying. She wants to dance desperately.
    But as we stand there, I notice that the crowd is diminished.
    “Where’d everyone go?” I ask.
    Missy shakes her head.
    A few minutes later, I notice them trickling back into the crowd a few at a time, looking flushed and bright-eyed. The girls seem more giggly than usual.
    “I think they’re drunk,” Missy says.
    I see Maura talk to the DJ, and he switches songs. “The birthday girl wants everyone to get this party started,”