Angry God

“Be nice.” Poppy sighed at Arabella, plopping on a lounger next to them.

“Sorry, dude, but you don’t get to tell us what to do now that Knight Cole is no longer banging you.” Alice started braiding Poppy’s hair, while Soren checked out my sister’s generous rack.

I made myself comfortable on the end of the lounger next to my sister, blocking out the gossip about the cheer squad and texting with Pope.

Lenny: At a pool party with Poppy and I hate everything about this place. Only a couple more months till I’m back.

Pope: You’re missed.

Lenny: I’m going to be in a sour mood working for Vaughn Spencer. He put the twat in the word twat.

Pope: So…basically, he is a twat?

Lenny: Precisely. You get me on another level, Raff.

Pope: I won’t let him be a twat to you while I’m there. Now please tell me there’s a token villain cheerleader and at least two nominal sidekicks at the party, plus a one-dimensional meathead who is their soldier.

I looked up, catching a glimpse of Arabella yelling at Alice and Stacee for blocking the sun, while Soren stared at all of them, tongue lolling out of his horn-dog mouth.

Lenny: Yup. And I’m the awkward girl they compare to a vampire.

Pope: Can’t wait for Freddie Prinze Jr. to finally notice that underneath the glasses and the awkwardness, you’re all that.

Pope: He’ll whisk you off to the sunset.

Pope: Slap a close-mouthed, PG-13 kiss on your lips.

Pope: Sometimes when you open up to people, you let the bad in with the good.

I rolled my eyes, feeling a goofy grin stretching across my lips.

Lenny: I feel like that was an actual quote from the movie.

Pope: Don’t be so scandalized. Took me three seconds to Google that shit.

Lenny: Turning Goth was a mistake. Should’ve practiced my cheer moves.

Pope: You’re no dancing puppet, Lenora Astalis. You’re an innovative artist through and through, and fuck the fakers.

A herd of guys swaggered by. They stopped and saluted Alice and Arabella, their fists curled around cans of Bud Light. “America without her soldiers would be like God without his angels. We salute you veterans for your invaluable contribution to our society.”

The hell?

The confusion must’ve showed on my face, because Arabella flicked her dark extensions over her shoulder and scowled.

“Your sister doesn’t even know what’s up. Jesus, Poppy, can she be any lamer?”

Poppy turned to me, hitching up a shoulder.

“There’s a system. Every time a girl at All Saints High hooks up with seven guys or more from any of the sports teams, she gets veteran status. Veterans are saluted at parties. They also get free drinks and dibs on new guys.”

“That is literally the stupidest thing in the world,” I said, trying to recover from the amount of inanity crammed into a one-paragraph explanation.

“Ever looked in the mirror?” Soren deadpanned, tilting his Ray-Bans down and giving me a degrading once-over.

“Vampires can’t be seen in the mirror, eejit.” I tapped the Kindle app on my phone, getting ready to read. “But before you spoil it for me, I know, I know. I look like a cross between Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Edward Cullen, and a bottle of lube. Very funny.”

The afternoon snailed by. No one paid attention to me, but that meant the girls weren’t actively in bully mode. I drank bottled beer I opened myself and read a book. In between, I provided Pope with a live feed of what was happening. I wished I could see him as boyfriend material, but after growing up with him, he felt more like a stepbrother. When the party began to die down, most people retired to Arabella’s living room. (Her parents were on a mysterious vacation in Europe, and her sister, according to the rumors, basically lived at her nanny’s house.)

Arabella ordered pizza, and everyone napped on the couches and floors, sunburned and drunk. I stayed outside and enjoyed the breeze, watched the sun descending into the ocean like an elusive temptress teasing her lover.

I was sitting on the edge of a swing, hidden by palm trees, away from the pool, when I heard low voices behind me.

“…an outsider. You really thought you could date Knight Cole with little to no consequences? He never had a girlfriend. Then you showed up and just took him. You think people don’t talk? That they don’t hate you for it?” Alice accused in a nasal voice, slurring. The words dragged, twisting in her mouth. “Arabella almost had sex with him before senior year, you know. At Vaughn’s house party. You ruined her progress.”

Progress? Christ. As a feminist, hearing that word in Alice’s mouth made me want to slap her with a lawsuit.

“I…I…” my sister stuttered behind the palm trees.

Poppy had also had a few drinks. I didn’t nag her about it, because I was here to look after her, and I understood she needed to unwind after the shitty few weeks she’d had.