“Whose party is this again?” Emily yelled to Beth.
Her sister raised her palms to the sky. “I have no idea. I got the invite off Twitter. It’s called ‘March Monster Madness.’”
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out at Penn’s Landing and the Delaware River. Emily craned her neck and immediately spotted Poseidon’s, the seafood restaurant where she’d worked last summer. It was the only job that offered health insurance—Emily could just imagine prenatal checkup showing up on her parents’ insurance bill—and every day, she’d worked until her ankles ached, her voice was raw from saying Yo ho ho! in a gruff, pirate-ish tone, and her stomach heaved. She always crawled back to the dorm at Temple smelling like fried clams.
At the bar, Beth ordered four shots. “Bottoms up!” she said, handing two of the glasses to Emily.
Emily examined the dark liquid in the glass. It smelled like the gag-worthy Fisherman’s Friend menthol lozenges her father insisted she suck on when she had a sore throat, but she swallowed it down anyway. Then, someone bumped Emily’s shoulder. A girl in a green wig and a long mermaid dress complete with a fish tail practically fell into her.
“Sorry!” the girl yelled. Then she looked Emily up and down and started to smile. “Killer!”
Emily stepped back, her limbs suddenly stone. “Excuse me?”
“Your outfit.” The girl felt the fabric of Emily’s dress between her fingers. “It’s killer!”
“Oh. Th-thanks.” Emily’s heart slowed. Of course she hadn’t said Emily was a killer.
“It’s my dress.” Beth butted in between them and slung her arm around Emily’s shoulders. “But doesn’t she look amazing in it? I’m trying to get her to come out of her shell and be a little naughty tonight—dance on top of the table, make out with a stranger, flash Market Street . . .”
The mermaid’s eyes brightened. She reminded Emily of a sexier, green-haired version of Ariel from The Little Mermaid. “Ooh, I like it. A bad-girl bucket list.”
Beth gave the girl a high five. “What do you want to start with, Em?”
“How about kissing a stranger?” the mermaid suggested.
“Or stealing someone’s underwear,” Beth said.
“Ew!” Emily wrinkled her nose.
Beth put her hands on her hips. “Okay, then. Come up with something better.”
Emily turned away from her sister and surveyed the crowd, not loving the idea of a bad-girl bucket list. The music was something fast and galvanizing, nothing like the trite stuff DJs always played at Rosewood Day dances. Two girls dressed as hippies held hands in the corner. A couple in Star Wars Stormtrooper uniforms fed each other shots on the couch by the window.
Then the mermaid grabbed her hand, leaned into Emily, and kissed her on the mouth. Emily froze. She hadn’t kissed anyone since Real Ali last year, and this girl’s lips felt soft and warm.
The mermaid pulled away, grinning. “There. Now you can cross off one item on your bucket list. You kissed a stranger.”
“That only half counted!” Beth cried. “She kissed you! Now you have to go kiss someone!”
“Yeah, pick someone!” The mermaid clapped her hands. “Or even better yet, close your eyes, spin around, and point!”
Emily tried to catch her breath, her lips still tingling. That kiss had felt amazing, and it flipped a switch inside her. Suddenly she wanted to show the new girl she was brazen and unafraid—worthy of kissing again. She whirled around the room and pointed. When she opened her eyes again, she was pointing at a tall, cute girl in dark-framed glasses and a Superman suit and cape.
“Supergirl!” Beth pushed Emily forward. “Go for her!”
Fueled with adrenaline, Emily knocked back the second shot and marched over, hoping the mermaid was watching. Supergirl was talking to a group of guys. Emily grabbed her hand and blurted, “Excuse me?” When Supergirl whirled around with a questioning look, Emily stood on her tiptoes and planted a big kiss on her lips. At first, the girl seemed shocked, her lips firm, but after a moment she softened and kissed her back. She tasted like blueberry-flavored lip gloss.
Emily pulled away, winked, and ran back to her sister. “Well?” Beth asked. “How was it?”
“Fun!” Emily admitted, feeling flushed and exhilarated. She looked around for the mermaid, but she had vanished. She tried not to feel disappointed.
“Good,” Beth said. She took Emily’s hands and swung them back and forth. “What do you want to do next?”
Emily spun around the room, then pointed at the couch. “Bounce on the cushions?”
“Do it!”
Beth pushed her forward, and Emily tentatively climbed on the couch and bounced lightly. She was about to get back down, but a guy nearby dressed in a sombrero and an ornate Mexican vest grinned at her. Go for it! he mouthed, giving her a thumbs-up. So Emily jumped higher and grinned, suddenly feeling like she was back in her living room, bouncing on the couch when her mom’s head was turned. With every leap, she felt just a little bit freer and lighter. When Beth helped her off, she was even giggling.
The next dares came fast and furious. She bummed a cigarette from a big Asian guy with a piratelike bandana on his head. She raced across the dance floor, pinching girls’ butts. Beth told her to go up to the big floor-to-ceiling window and moon Market Street, and Emily almost did it, until she remembered that Beth might see her C-section scar if she pulled up her dress. She danced wildly in front of the window instead, giving the traffic below a show. After indulging each and every impulse, she felt lighter and lighter, shedding her normally scared self in a crumpled, discarded heap on the floor.
After goading the DJ to show her how to spin records, Emily sloppily engulfed Beth in a hug. “This is amazing. Thanks so much.”
“Told ya you needed to get out,” Beth teased. “And how about Miss Goddess of the Sea?” She pointed at the mermaid, who was gyrating on the dance floor. “She’s totally into you. You should go for her.”
“She’s not into me.” Emily swatted her. She snuck a peek at the mermaid anyway. Her shimmery green dress hugged her every curve. When she noticed Emily watching, she blew her a kiss.
When Emily and Beth stood in line at the bar to get more drinks, the mermaid danced back over to them. Emily leaned into her. “So do you know who’s throwing this party?”
The girl patted her green wig. “I’m not sure anyone here does. Rumor has it this is a big record exec’s loft. I found out about it online.”
A couple of girls swished past in a cloud of pot smoke. Emily ducked out of their way. “Are you from around here?”
“The suburbs.” The girl made a scrunched-up face. “Boring.”
“Me too. Rosewood.” As soon as Emily said it she flinched, sure the girl would probably look at Emily carefully and realize that she was one of the Pretty Little Killer girls.
But the girl just shrugged. “I go to a private school close to there. I’m almost out though, thank God.”
“Do you know what college you’re going to yet?” Emily glanced at the University of Pennsylvania keychain swinging from the girl’s expensive-looking gold handbag. “Penn?”
An undefined expression moved across the girl’s features. “I don’t think any colleges would want someone like me.” Then she grabbed Emily’s arm, her face brightening again. “I’ve got a dare for you, badass.” She pointed at a girl across the room who was wearing a fringed, Pocahontas-like jumpsuit and a large Native American headdress. “Steal that from her. Put it on. I bet you’d look hot in it.”