My superpower is invisibility. Not by choice. It's the only way I know how to be.
Until the cute guy on the bus shows me how to fly, but there's a catch.
And it has nothing to do with me being the one who can see him.
But sometimes falling feels...
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Teen parties gone wild are real. So real. I always thought the party scene in a teen flick was greatly exaggerated, with kids littering, spilling, making out, yelling, and whatever else. People leave their sense of decorum and manners at the front door when they attend a party at someone else's house.
Not the vase. Please, not the vase!
Please keep any and all bodily fluids inside of your body, please?
No! That's my dad's! Give it here.
I sound like a broken record. This is hard!
I'm trying really hard — super hard — to not be that host that cleans up after everyone instead of having fun, but it's hard because if my sisters and I don't have this house absolutely clean by the time Mom comes back, we're all dead. Super dead. Like Leo dead.
Speaking of Leo, where the hell is he? He's supposed to be here.
Amara made me into a completely different person. She cut my hair shoulder-length, curled it, made my eyes sparkle and my lips glow. I'm wearing her clothes — also a ruffled lavender dress with white chucks.
"Great party, Emerson!" Ashley says, grabbing another beer from the kitchen. She almost falls, but catches herself, knocking over the fruit tray. Apples and oranges are rolling all over the ground, and I'm chasing after them like a deranged cat.
People are everywhere. The music is so loud, I'm shocked the neighbors didn't call the cops or my mom. I feel selfish for not thinking about her in this. She's working her ass off, and we're disobeying her.
"What the hell are you doing, Randi?" Avery says, giggling.
With a handful of fruit, I face her. "Got a little hungry and can't decide. Apple or orange?"
While in front of me in her red dress, she picks up the metal tray and places it on the table. After placing the fruit back, she says, "How about vodka mixed with cranberry? Still fruit and extremely good for you. Oh! And raging UTIs, if you didn't know."
In a split second, she picks up her red cup off the table and pushes it to my lips. "I don't know, Avery. I think one of us needs to stay sober, and since I never drank before, I volunteer."
"Absolutely not. Whatever happens tonight, we deal with it together."
"Even if the house burns down?"
She winks. "Even if the house burns down. We'll just be homeless."
I'm staring into her eyes as I process her words. She's the logical twin. And if she believes everything will be okay, then I'm going to believe it too.
Cupping my hands around the cup, I finish her drink, and it's the worst thing I've ever tasted in my life. The burn travels from my throat to my stomach, and I'm close to gagging. Playing it off, I slam the cup down, burp, and place my hand across my chest.
