He grunted. "I don't want you home late. Be home before twelve. How are you getting home, anyway?" he asked.
"Oh, we have a ride. Don't worry, Daddy."
He looked at her again and then at me through the mirror. "I'm not happy about this. Who's the chaperone?"
"Her mother's there. Stop worrying so much, Daddy. You went to parties when you were our age."
"No, I didn't. I didn't even go out on a real date until I was a senior."
This time, I grunted, unable to imagine anyone going out on a date with him. He looked at me through the mirror again and drove on.
It was a very exciting game Jimmy was spectacular, stealing the ball, making long shots, holding the team together, and keeping them within four points the whole time. He did what he promised, too: he looked into the bleachers and found me. When he smiled, Jennifer glanced at me with eyes so green with hot envy I thought she would burst into flames.
In the last minute of the game, Jimmy intercepted a pass and scored. Then one of their players was fouled but missed his shot. The ball was tossed to Jimmy, who made a long jump shot from the corner. It put the game into two-minute overtime. The crowd was excited, and the roar was deafening. When they stomped their feet, I thought the bleachers would come tumbling down and crush us all.
The overtime was just as exciting as the game, each team scoring until the last thirty seconds, when Jimmy had an opportunity to score and delayed it as long as possible. The crowd held its collective breath as the bail sailed through the air and threaded through the basket to give our school the victory. The team carried Jimmy off the court, the school's hero.
"And you're going to be with him at the party!" Paula Gordon moaned.
"I have no idea why," I said.
She exchanged a funny look with Jennifer, both covering their smiles with their hands.
Afterward, the boys joined us to watch the varsity game, but it wasn't as exciting, and during the halftime, Jimmy suggested we just leave and go to the party.
"We'll get a head start," he said.
We piled into two cars and headed for Missy Taylor's house. The weather had turned bad, and there was a constant drizzle, but rather than put a damper on our excitement, it made everyone squeal and scream as we rushed to get into the automobiles. When we arrived at the house, I discovered both her parents were at their bar and restaurant, so Jennifer's first lie was immediately evident. It was a nice house, bigger than Uncle Reuben and Aunt Clara's. Missy was an only child, and there were four bedrooms as well as a basement party room with a bar and a jukebox.
The music started immediately, and Brad got behind the bar and began to pour beer and vodka. I didn't want to drink anything, but everyone was drinking, even Jennifer, who claimed she was used to drinking vodka.
"I drink it at home and then put water in the bottle so my father won't know," she said. I actually believed her, but it wasn't long before she began to feel sick and had to go to the bathroom to throw up.
"She drank it too fast," Jimmy said. "That's the trick, drinking slowly. You're doing all right. You know how to handle yourself. I see."
I had only sipped half a glass of beer. My mother would roar with laughter, I thought.
"Come on," Jimmy said, taking my hand. "Let's leave these losers behind."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see," he said. He led me up the stairway to the bedroom.
"We can't just walk through her house like this, can we?" I asked.
"Sure, Missy knows. It's all right," he said. "We've had parties here before. It's a great party house, because her parents don't keep track of what we drink, and they're always out."
Missy Taylor can't have much of a family, either, I thought. I was beginning to wonder if any of the kids at school were really better off than me.
Jimmy did seem to know exactly where to go. He led me to one of the guest bedrooms. As soon as we passed through the door, he kicked it closed and embraced me. It was the most wonderful kiss I had ever experienced, long, wet, and so hard it made the back of my neck ache. As he kissed me, he brought his hands up the sides of my body to my shoulders and then kissed my neck.
"You're delicious," he said. "Just as I imagined you would be."
"I'm not something to eat," I said, trying to laugh. I was getting very nervous. I liked him, wanted him to kiss me, but he was moving so fast he made my heart pound. His hands were on my breasts, and his fingers were manipulating the buttons of my blouse. As he did that, he walked us toward the bed, and before I knew it, we were sitting on it. He brought his lips to my chest and began to work on my bra.
"Wait," I said.
"For what?"