Populazzi. Part 34

Thankfully, I had Claudia. She was as excited about the party as I was. She said in some ways, it felt like her ascension to Supreme Populazzi, too, and she wanted to be as involved as possible. This was a huge break for me, since Trista had recommended the Populazzi not be involved. That way, according to Trista, they'd be as surprised by the finished place as anyone, and it would be clearer even to them that the party was mine alone. I saw her point, but without Claudia's help, there's no way I could have managed it all.

I raced home after school and got my stuff together. The trunk of my car was already packed with decorations I'd ama.s.sed over the past couple weeks, but I had several more bags of stuff, all of which I'd tucked inside suitcases stored in the garage so Karl and Mom wouldn't see. I loaded the bags into my back seat, then took a trip inside to grab my clothes, makeup, and all the other personal things I'd need. Once I'd checked and rechecked to make sure I hadn't left anything out, I ducked back in to say goodbye.

"Tell Trista happy birthday for us," Mom said. "I will."

"Get a good night's sleep tomorrow," Karl added. "And make sure you're home by eleven Sunday morning. Dean Jaffe's coming at noon and I want you here and ready."

"Got it. That'll be great."

"It better be," Karl said. "You need to put on the show of your life to make up for your grades last semester."

"I will. I totally will."

I could tell by Karl's face that I could've been more enthusiastic, but my mind was halfway out the door, and I was dying to follow it. I called out a last goodbye, then raced to the car and drove to Wegmans, where I was meeting Claudia.

The plan was to get all the food and drinks for the party, load them into Claudia's car, then caravan to Dad's. He had arranged for his whole family to be away for the weekend, so Claudia and I would have all night and all day tomorrow to prepare.

Claudia couldn't get over the fact that she was going to see my dad. She vaguely remembered meeting him at my sixth birthday party, but that was it. And she had never seen the Bar Wench. We couldn't stop talking about it at Wegmans, and we were still at it as we walked up to his front door with our first armfuls of party food.

"What if I think your dad's cute, too?" Claudia asked after we rang the bell. "Wouldn't it be wrong?"

"And weirdly incestuous."

"Very Greek drama. Somebody'd have to poke their eyes out for sure. But who?"

That's when the Bar Wench opened the door. Awesome.

"h.e.l.lo, ladies," she said. The Bar Wench was the same age as my dad, but her skin looked more sun-dried and weathered. She tried to hide that with thick foundation, but it pooled in the tiny cracks around her eyes, making the fissures more p.r.o.nounced than they would have been otherwise. She wore her dyed black hair in a pixie cut that had probably been very s.e.xy when she was in her early twenties, but now it just seemed mannish. She wasn't dressed yet-she wore slippers and a royal blue silk bathrobe.

With no small amount of bitterness, she told us she had arranged full-weekend sleepovers for both her boys, and she and Dad would be heading down the sh.o.r.e. They'd all be back late Sunday afternoon, and she expected to find the house in the same condition it was in right now. That said, she retreated upstairs. She never once attempted to make any kind of physical contact with me, and she never introduced herself to Claudia.

"She must know she's world-renowned as the Bar Wench," Claudia explained. "It's like being Mick Jagger; it's superfluous to introduce yourself."

An hour later, we'd unloaded both our cars and managed to get everything we needed into the fridge, when we heard my dad jogging down the stairs.

"Cair, baby? That you down there?"

" 'Cair, baby '?" Claudia whispered. "What is he, a lounge act?"

Pretty close. At least he looked the part in his white suit with the black silk s.h.i.+rt.

"Aha!" He pointed at Claudia. "The braids! You had those ten years ago. You are Claudia!"

"Did you really recognize the braids," Claudia asked, "or is it that you knew I was coming?"

"Little of each," Dad said. Then he beckoned for us to lean in close. "I left a surprise for you in the hall closet. Lise doesn't have to know." He put his fingers to his lips as the Bar Wench clip-clopped downstairs, wearing a pantsuit that clung a little too tightly to her middle.

"Have fun tomorrow," Dad said. "Make sure you tell people they can crash here if they're too drunk to drive."

"But downstairs. Everything needs to stay downstairs," the Bar Wench added. Dad laughed as he led her out of the house, urging her not to worry. The last thing we heard her mutter before the door closed was "...hate the thought of those kids getting into my underwear drawer..."

"I'm getting into her underwear drawer right now," I said.

"Totally. What do you think the surprise is?"

We ran to the closet. All the way in the back was a full keg on a small rolling dolly, and it had a note taped to it that said, "Have fun! Love, Dad."

"Oh my G.o.d, I kind of love Leonard Leonard," Claudia said.

"It's pretty cool," I agreed, even as I heard Mom's voice in my head railing over what kind of parent would possibly think it was okay to provide a keg of beer for an underage party.

Claudia and I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning prepping the house per Trista's guidelines. We put out tea candles; we strung miles of white twinkle lights; we put colored gels over bulbs. We made sure every room would have music, either a stereo playing CDs or a speaker dock hooked to an iPod. We tested every connection to make sure everything worked. We rolled the keg from the closet to the kitchen. We put tiki torches out on the ma.s.sive back porch and made sure they were filled with fluid. We put out lighters so we wouldn't have to look for them when it was time to light the torches and candles. We put out extra chairs so people could hang outside and look at the lake beyond Dad's backyard. We pushed back furniture in the living room to create a dance area. We checked all the supplies in the bathrooms. We made a timeline and a checklist for everything we needed to do the next day: set out snacks, drinks, ice, cups, utensils, napkins; order pizzas; and of course get gorgeous.

By the time we were done, we were exhausted and starving. We didn't want to bust into the party food or get anything dirty by attempting to cook, so we took great pleasure in raiding the Bar Wench's pantry, and even greater pleasure in cras.h.i.+ng on her bed.

We didn't wake up until early afternoon. Claudia and I both felt the same frizzle of nerves. We couldn't wait for the remaining hours to zoom by so we could finally get to the party, but we also wanted them to drag so we'd have time to get everything done.

We worked through our checklist until 6:30, when I went upstairs to start getting myself ready. The plan was for me to beautify while Claude stayed on party prep. Trista, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and Gemma were coming over around 8:00, at which point Claudia planned to disappear upstairs both to get herself ready and to stay far away from Ree-Ree. Once the party was rolling, Claudia would slip downstairs, blend into the crowd, and enjoy.

"Oh my G.o.d, Cara," Claudia gaped when I joined her back in the kitchen. "You are Supreme Populazzi."

"You think?"

She pulled me into the dining room, with its floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and we both stared at my reflection. My dress had a close-fitted, gold-brocade tank top belted with a sleek, sparkly black miniskirt. I wore chunky black heels, but my hair was the ultimate accessory, hanging wild and free over my shoulders. My makeup was subtle but perfect.

Honestly? I looked hot.

"This is it, Cara..." Claudia said, and I finished her thought before she could say it: "The night everything changes." I led her back into the kitchen and poured us drinks so we could toast our success: Malibu rum and pineapple juice for me, club soda for her.

"Last time, we attended a Populazzi party; today you're throwing a Populazzi party," Claudia said.

"To the Ladder?" I offered.

"To the Ladder."

We clinked gla.s.ses as the doorbell rang. Claudia raced upstairs. The junior cla.s.s Populazzi had arrived.

Once Claudia was out of sight, I let the girls in. They of course looked incredible. We all hugged and kissed like it had been ages, which it felt like it had.

"So, so CHIW, Cara," Trista said, taking in the scene from the foyer. "Show us everything."

I led them from room to room, basking in their awe. Gemma, Ree-Ree, and Kristie were especially impressed. They hadn't seen the house before, and I could tell they were doubly blown away by its decorated glory.

The first guests rang the bell at 8:15, fifteen minutes before the party was scheduled to start. Trista stopped me from letting them in.

"So uncool to show up early for a party. No one gets in until a half hour after it starts."

"But people are standing there," I said, peering through the peephole.

"Good. Then they'll be all primed and ready when we finally open the doors."

Trista had me turn up the music so people would hear it thrumming outside the house. She poured us all drinks, then had us enjoy them by the door, so all the guests outside would hear us talking and laughing and know they were in for a good time.

I felt bad leaving people out there, especially once eight thirty came and they were actually on time, but I trusted Trista. The four of us each had another drink, and at a quarter of nine, she had me turn the music even louder.

"Preshow time!" she screamed.

She pulled the drapes across the two living room windows, which faced out to the front yard. She pushed a floor lamp a couple feet behind each. "Who's doing the silhouette dance?"

Gemma and Ree-Ree jumped for it. They each stood between a lamp and a window and gyrated to the music. The crowd outside hooted and hollered, and Trista and I joined in the cheers. At one point I looked over my shoulder and saw Claudia peeking out from upstairs. She caught my eye and made a face at the grinding girls. I shrugged and laughed.

"Tagging out!" Gemma called.

"Really?" I asked as Ree-Ree dragged me to her old spot.

"It's your party, Cara!" Trista said. "You've got to work it!"

Trista herself was already working it, to what sounded like the delight of the crowd outside. I downed the rest of my drink in a single gulp of courage, so everything faded away except the music. I danced. I didn't even sense time pa.s.sing, but suddenly Trista grabbed my hand, pulled me to the door, and shouted that it was "time to get this party started!"

At her nod, I threw open the front door, and people flooded in.

The biggest night of my high school career had officially begun.

Chapter Thirty-Four.

I was still so dizzy and fuzzy from the dancing and the drinks that the stream of people blurred together. Trista greeted each one with a smile, sometimes a hug, a secret joke, a compliment, a quick anecdote, or an observation that let the person know he or she mattered, because Trista noticed something special about them. Once she was done, she sent each guest to me: "our hostess for the night."

While I'd been a master conversationalist leading up to the party, now that it was here, my go-to topic was moot. What was I supposed to say to a sea of people I barely knew? I ended up following Trista's mastery with "h.e.l.lo," "hi," or, if I was feeling particularly silver-tongued, "thanks for coming."

The line of partiers seemed endless. Once everyone was inside, the whole house vibrated with a million different voices.

"Congratulations." Trista smiled. "Your party's a success."

She wanted us to go down to the bar and meet our friends, but I said I'd catch up later. I wanted to walk through the whole party and see it in action for myself.

Every room was crammed with people. In the kitchen they chatted in cl.u.s.ters around trays of snacks. Out on the porch, they sat or leaned against the rail and talked as they took in the view of the lake, the flickering tiki lights dancing on their faces. Back inside, people sprawled in the family room, and in the living room they took a cue from our preshow and danced.

In the bas.e.m.e.nt the noise roared even louder. This was the true crux of the party. Someone had turned on the Wii, and people gathered around to play or watch. The pool table was surrounded as well, but when I saw Eddie, I pushed through the crowd to wrap my arms around him.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, Cara. Great party."

"Thanks. I worked really hard on it."

"Yeah, you did."

There was something in his voice I didn't like. I decided to ignore it. "Where are the girls?"

"Down there." He nodded to the pub. "While you're there, can you get me another bottle of beer?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." He gave me a quick kiss on the lips, then leaned over to line up his next shot.

The pub room was jammed. People sat two to a seat at the tables, and a knot of others agonized over the jukebox b.u.t.tons. The dance floor was packed.

"Cara!" Trista squealed, and I turned to see her and Gemma dancing on the bar. Brett was playing bartender, and while I had always thought he seemed cool and distant, this was apparently his element. He took requests, but what he seemed to enjoy most was scrutinizing people, then offering them the perfect drink for their personalities. "You're a supercharged dude who's always amped, but when you kick it, you kick it hard-core. You need Hpnotiq and Red Bull."

Amazing-he was the Alcohol Psychic.

"Brett, hook this girl up!" Trista cried as I got to the bar. Brett covered his eyes with one hand, pointed around with the other, then stopped and opened his eyes. He grabbed the bottle he was pointing to, poured a shot, and slid it down the bar. It stopped right in front of me.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Don't ask. It's perfect for you. Just drink it down."

Those were more words than he had said directly to me in my whole time as a Populazzi. I took them seriously and drank. The taste was hideous.

"It gets better later." Brett winked. "Trust me."

"Girlfriend, get your b.u.t.t up on this bar and start dancing!" said Gemma. "This is your party. Grab the spotlight!"

With Brett's tonic working its way through me, I was ready. Trista and Gemma both reached out to help me up, but before I could make it, Trista let her arm go limp.

"Oh no, look!" She pointed at the pub tables. "No more pretzels!"

"I'll get more later," I said. But Trista said empty snack bowls were poor party protocol. And since I'm a sucker for both alliteration and Trista's hosting skills, I gathered the bowls to go refill them. Trista had Brett give me one more shot for the road. I grabbed a beer for Eddie and headed up to the pool table.

I was just wondering if Claudia had joined the party yet when I saw her. She was playing Dance Dance Revolution on the Wii with Ree-Ree while Marsh cheered them on.

My rib cage squeezed my lungs to nothing. I staggered closer. I hoped Brett's drinks were so strong I was hallucinating.

I wasn't.

"Claude?" I croaked. "Can I talk to you a second?"

"Now?" she asked, clearly unhappy about the idea.

I nodded.