Brody knows all too well that I’m willing to do my duty and be that first person. “To the patio door,” I say. “Full speed ahead and damn the potatoes.”
By the time Brody and I get to the pool, there’s a nice crowd following us, and I lift my hands in the air to start a cheer: “Dive, Sutter, dive! Dive, Sutter, dive!”
The diving board is way too low for the kind of drama that the situation requires, so naturally, I have a couple of dudes boost me up to the roof of the little cabana on the deep-end side. It’s far enough away from the pool that I have to back up to get a running start, but that just adds to the excitement.
The cheers grow louder. “Dive, Sutter, dive! Dive, Sutter, dive!”
The thought does cross my mind that I could slip and end up cracking my head on the pavement just short of the pool, but if you’re always going to worry about minor drawbacks, then you’ll never accomplish anything. So, without another thought, I take about three big steps and out I fly—fully clothed—catching some tasty air, rolling and tucking, almost completing an entire flip, but not quite. When I come up for air, everyone’s clapping and whooping. A couple of people in the front row got thoroughly splashed, but they don’t mind.
“Marco!” I holler.
“Polo!” responds Brody just before cannonballing into the deep end.
After that, it’s a free-for-all. There must be twenty kids in the pool, guys and girls both, some still in their formal gear. The water churns, people take turns dunking each other, girls’ blouses and gowns cling magnificently to their br**sts. Shouts and laughter careen every which way. Watching it from the side of the pool, my shoes, socks, and pants legs dangling in the water, I smile an all-time, big, Guinness-Book-worthy smile, soaking in the vastness of what I’ve accomplished. I don’t even hear Cassidy calling my name until she’s right behind me.
Chapter 54
“Sutter, you have to come inside.”
I look up, and there Cassidy is, standing above me, the patio lights shining in her hair. She’s beautiful.
“I can’t come inside. I’m all wet.”
“I’ll get you a towel.”
“What’s the emergency?” I get up and start toward the patio door with her.
“It’s Aimee. She’s sick. Kelsey found her in the bathroom lying on the floor. She threw up in the bathtub.”
“God. I guess maybe we shouldn’t have had all those chili fries at Marvin’s.”
“Or maybe all that liquor?”
“Look, here’s an idea. Why don’t you go in and bring her out here. Maybe if I take her for a swim it’ll make her feel better.”
“A swim? Sutter, she can’t swim. She’d sink like a stone.”
“Hey, I’d be right there with her. I wouldn’t let her sink.”
“Right, like you’ve been with her all night at this party? You haven’t spent a minute with her since you’ve been here.”
“Well, what does that have to do with you? Wasn’t it enough for you to tell me how to be a boyfriend when we were together? Now you’re going to tell me how to be a boyfriend to someone else?”
“This isn’t about me and you.” She stops in front of me and grabs my arms like maybe she wants to shake some sense into me. “You know I care for you, and I always will, but this is about—”
She doesn’t get a chance to finish. Aimee cuts her off. We’re standing by the patio furniture about ten yards from the door, and here she comes, walking at a little bit of a tilt but determined-looking nonetheless.
“He doesn’t give a damn if you care for him or not,” she says about fifty decibels too loud. “You’re not his boyfriend. I mean, he’s not your girlfriend. I mean—you know what I mean.”
Cassidy’s like, “Aimee, I was just trying to get him to come inside and help you.”
But Aimee goes, “I know what you were trying to do.” Her face is very pale, more than usual. Even the lipstick is gone. There’s a little fleck of vomit on her cheek. “You’ve been trying to do it all night long. You were practically f**king him on the dance floor.”
“No, she wasn’t,” I tell her, completely amazed. I mean, sure, I taught her the value of swearing for certain reasons, but who would’ve thought the word f**king could roll off her tongue so easily?
“It was just a friendly dance,” I say and try to take her arm, but she pulls away and goes for Cassidy.
“I don’t ever want to see you around him anymore,” she says. “You big fat bitch.”
Then, the next thing I know, she hauls off and slaps Cassidy right across the cheek. The force of her swing throws her off balance, and she crashes down onto this glass patio end table, shattering it into a jumble of jigsaw pieces.
So, here I have one girl with a big red slap mark on her face and another lying in a pile of patio end table shards. Which one do I go to? I don’t know if it says anything about me, but I go to Aimee.
I cup my hand behind her neck. “Can you sit up? Are you cut?”
“Do I look awful?” she says. “I bet I look awful.”
“Come on, let’s get you up in this chair.”
I get her in the chair and look her over for cuts. There’s just a scratch on the back of her arm, nothing bad.
“Looks like you’re all right,” I tell her, and she buries her face in my wet shirt and goes, “No, I’m not. I’m so stupid. I did this thing in the bathroom. Do I have vomit in my hair?”