You're Invited (8 page)

I kind of want to hide it because Mom cries every time she gets one of these letters. My brothers are absolutely useless. I mean, how do you get almost kicked out of the biggest party school in the state? And it's not like Zach is going to do any better. When I'm in some big-name school in Massachusetts or New York (because all those big-name schools seem to be in Massachusetts or New York), studying to be a general surgeon just like Mom, they'll never get letters like this.

Which is why I need to save up tons of money and get scholarships. Mom makes enough to pay bills and afford state college tuition, but definitely not enough for the kind of college I want to go to. And Dad just barely keeps the marina afloat (pun definitely intended). As Bubby likes to say, the boat business is a sinking business.

I toss the envelope back into the basket. Taped to the door is a note from Mom.

Lauren Phoebe Simmons—Do NOT forget to water the plants. Outside and inside. Love, Mom

I pull the note off and stuff it into my pocket. I'll water them the second I get back. You'd think Mom would realize by now that I don't need notes with my full name on them to remember to do things. But I guess it's hard to get out of the habit when your oldest kids are Josh and Zach. I think she and Dad expect me to wake up one day as a girl version of my brothers.

I read Question 1 in my math workbook as I start the golf cart parked in the garage. Just because I'm driving a golf cart doesn't mean I can't solve for
x
in my head. Dad bought a couple of these things to get around the marina, and I'd been dying to drive one for years. The town ordinances say you have to be twelve in order to operate a golf cart on the streets. Which makes no sense, because I wasn't magically more responsible on my January 8 birthday than I was on January 7. Anyway, Mom went on and on about golf-cart crashes and concussions and spiral fractures, but Dad finally convinced her that if anyone would drive a golf cart safely, it'd be me. I'm just not allowed to drive with any of my friends in the cart. Or go on Coastline Drive, because Mom says everyone drives like a maniac on that road.

By the time I roll into the marina, I have the math problem solved. I stop next to the office, knock on the window to wave to Dad and Zach, and then drive on toward the
Purple People Eater
.

Vi's lounging in a small patch of shade on the deck of the yacht. Her nose is bright red.

“What happened?” I ask as I park the cart.

“To what?”

“Your nose, Rudolph.” I unlock the door to the
PPE
and we move down the dark steps to the Bat Cave.

“I was out all morning swimming, and then I fell asleep on the beach. Forgot to put on more sunblock. Hey, where'd all that warm water go?” Vi opens cabinet doors as I crack the windows and round up the basket of flashlights.

I point with a flashlight to the little bar in the far corner of the cabin. Vi snags a bottle just as Sadie and Becca arrive. We all sit around the flashlight basket—all of us except Becca, who's just standing there in her bright white sundress.

“What are you doing?” Sadie asks her.

“I don't want to get old yacht dirt on my dress,” she says. “Sorry, Lo.”

Like I'm
going to be offended about the state of the
Purple
People Eater
. I empty out my backpack and pass it to Becca. “Here, sit on this.”

She sits super gently on the backpack, as if the very act of sitting will make dirt seep into her dress.

“So did you find out why your mom didn't come to the party?” Vi asks Sadie.

Sadie makes a face. “She said she felt really bad about it, but she had a bridezilla freaking out and she had to drop everything and meet with her and I wasn't answering my cell. I had it on vibrate so it wouldn't interrupt the party. Whatever.”

Sadie gives a little shake of her head. “I mean, not whatever, but what can I do? I guess it's partly my fault because I was trying to surprise her, so I didn't tell her what it was she was coming to and she didn't realize it was a one-time-only thing she was missing out on. Anyway, my mom's not why I sent the Bat Signal. Not totally, anyway.”

“Wait, did you change your mind and now you're going to help me get Ryan's attention?” Becca looks like someone's given her an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii. “Because I have the perfect idea—”

“No, not that.” Sadie's biting her lip, probably to
avoid telling Becca how hard Ryan worked to steer clear of her at the party.

We all look at her, waiting for an explanation.

“Well . . . ,” Sadie finally says. “I have this idea. It sort of has to do with the ‘one-time-only thing' I mentioned. Hear me out before you say no. So, you know how none of us have any real summer plans?”

Speak for yourself.
My brain is already sorting out my summer schedule.

“I have plans,” Becca says. “Ryan plans. You want to hear them?”

“No,” we all say together.

“What's your idea, Sades?” Vi asks, chin on her knees. Vi'd been hoping to go to this amazing soccer camp in Charlotte for a couple weeks this summer, but the price was pretty amazing too.

“Well . . . I think we should start a business,” Sadie says.

“Doing what?” I ask.

“What do you mean, doing what? Party planning!” Sadie's grinning now. “We totally rocked it at Molly's party. Mrs. Campbell was so happy, she even asked if we had business cards, because she wanted to recommend us to her friends!”

“I'm not sure,” I say. “With all of my stuff, and Vi's
sports, and Becca's . . . boyfriend search.” Becca elbows me.

“It's summer! We all have plenty of time,” Sadie says. “Besides, just think about how much fun it would be.” Sadie's phone rings in her hand. She glances down at the screen and hits ignore.

“Your mom?” I ask.

“Nah, just my sister. Okay, so where was I? Becca, you could drum up business, since you know everyone in town. And you could convince that Ryan guy to help us out sometimes, right?”

Becca sits up straighter and suddenly looks a thousand percent more interested in this business idea.

“Vi could cook some—” Sadie starts to say.

“No way,” Vi says as she twists the ends of her ponytail. “What if I mess it up?”

“Impossible,” I tell her.

“And, Lauren, you'd be a whiz at making sure we stay on budget for each party.”

I shake my head. “I wish I could, but I
really
don't have the time.”

“And the money!” Sadie goes on like she hasn't even heard me. “Just think of how much money we could make. If we book one party per week, and maybe
even book two parties once in a while, and we have how many weeks till school starts again?”

Everyone looks at me.

“Eight,” I fill in. Eight weeks of SAT study so I can take a practice test in September. Eight weeks of racking up enough volunteer hours to be considered for the school volunteer award. Eight weeks of listening to Bubby go on and on about the newest eligible eighty-year-old to move into her complex. Eight weeks of marina work to try to boost my bank account. Eight weeks, eight weeks, eight weeks.

“So that's somewhere between eight and sixteen parties, so we could earn—”

“A lot of money,” Vi chimes in. She's stopped twisting her ponytail and is smiling. I know she's thinking about that kayak for her dad. She only stops to look at it every day. “I'm in.”

“Becca?” Sadie asks.

“Yes . . .
if
I can bring Ryan. You know how he's dying to practice his acting skills or whatever. He won't be able to say no to this!” She grins at us like she expects us to be jumping up and down. “Oh, don't give me that look. You know we'll need a boy for some of these parties.”

“Fine. But we're
only paying him if he's actually needed,” Sadie says. “So . . . Lauren?”

Ugh, I hate saying no to my friends. Especially to Sadie. They're all looking at me so expectantly. And I feel really, really selfish. Maybe if I moved my volunteer work to Wednesday and stayed up a little later to study . . .

“Remember how you gave me that shell and told me I was on a new journey? Well, maybe you are too,” Sadie says.

Sadie knows me way too well. Of course, I know her just as well, and I definitely know when she's bringing everything she has to convince me. And I'd give in too, if I didn't have this SAT class. There's no way I can move everything around or stay up later and still get it all done. Selfish or not, I've already committed to all this stuff. People expect me to show up and to be perfect.

“Sades, I—”

Sadie looks right at me. “Lauren, did you or did you not have fun on Saturday?”

I nod.

“Did you like writing that script for the murder mystery?”

“Yes.”
That was the best part. It was nice writing something that wasn't due for a class.

“Y'all know how crazy busy I am with swimming and volleyball and surfing,” Vi says, her red nose shining in the flashlight's glow. “But I'm thinking, even though this party idea will take time away from all that, it's something we can do together. And it's fun!”

“You need some fun,” Becca says to me. The super-serious look on her face almost makes me laugh. It's like she's holding a fun-intervention for her study-addicted friend.

“Just think of all the different kinds of parties we can come up with. And then make them happen—together!” Forget the flashlights, Sadie's smile could light up the room on its own.

“And we can make moolah, cash, dough, scratch, MON-EY!” Becca says, rubbing her hands together like some cartoon villain. She's probably thinking about some skirt or pair of shoes her parents refuse to buy for her.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Will y'all stop ganging up on me? I said I can't do it. I'd explode from all the stress.”

“But it won't be
the same without you,” Sadie says.

She's completely guilting me. And it's so hard to say no, especially when I really want to say yes. “Look, I'll help you set it up. Make a business plan and all that. But really, that's all I can do.”

Sadie's smile falters a bit, and a few tears leak out of her eyes.

“Wait, why are you crying?” Becca asks.

“Did I make you cry?” Now I feel really awful. What kind of friend am I?

“No. But I'm not giving up on you yet, Lauren. I'm crying because I'm so, so, SO happy!” Sadie says through her tears. “We'll plan so many parties, the law of averages means my mom will have to make at least
one
of them. But that's totally a bonus. Really, I'm just psyched to have the best friends in the world.”

Except Lauren. Sadie doesn't say that, of course, but I still feel like the most horrible, selfish best friend in the world. I don't have a choice, though. Future Lauren would not be okay with Right Now Lauren if I blew off my responsibilities to hang out with my friends and then didn't get into Cornell or Harvard.

But somehow that still doesn't make me feel better.

“Lauren!” Becca's waving at me. They're all leaned
into one big, squishy
Purple People Eater
hug. I join them, wrapping my arms around Becca and Sadie, and putting on a pretend smile like some sort of fake friend.

“Now let's get down to business.” Sadie scrubs the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“What did you say you were going to write, Lauren? Business stuff?” Vi asks.

I fumble through the mess on the floor and find a notebook and my lucky test-taking pen. The least I can do is help them get this started the right way. I really want to write
Business Stuff
at the top, but that's super unprofessional. Even if I'm not an official part of the business, I want to make it look the best I can for my friends. After an hour, we have something like a plan written out.

Party-Planning Business

Company Owners: Sadie Pleffer,

Violet Alberhasky, Rebecca Elldridge

“No one calls me Violet,” Vi says as I read the page out loud.

“
This is a business plan,” I inform her. “You have to use your full name.”

“No,” she says as she lunges for my pen.

“Okay, fine!” I cross out the
-olet
from her name.

Goal: To plan parties for kids (or anyone who wants to hire us).

“Except sixth-grade boys. They're way too immature,” Becca says.

“I'm not writing that down,” I say as I tap the notebook with my slim black pen.

Benefits for Customers: We handle all the planning, book the venue, get the cake and food, book entertainment, buy party favors, send out invitations, and clean up afterward.

“Can't we hire someone to clean up?” Becca asks. “Picking up all those chips from the porch of the Poinsettia Plantation was a nightmare.”

“Not if we want to keep the money we make,” Sadie says.

Tasks: Will be split evenly among all business owners. If someone can't get something done, she needs to tell the others right away.

Cost: Depends on the party. Simple parties will cost less than extravagant parties. Cost will include cake, party favors, food, etc., and that part will be paid up front because we don't have any money.

“Whatever, Miss Moneybags.” Vi elbows me.

“I'm not a part of this, remember? And besides, that's for college.”

Transportation: Bike.

“What if something's really far away?” Vi asks.

Becca shoots me an innocent grin. “I think Lauren should drive us in that golf cart.”

“For the ninetieth time, I'm not in the business. And I can't drive the cart with anyone else in it. You know that.” Becca's only begged me at least once a week since January to take her somewhere in the golf cart.