Party Read Online Free Page A

is
absurd
and unfair and it’s not gonna keep me from this party. Plus, I’m kinda curious to see how long it’s going to take them to figure out I’m gone. And now that I think about it … do I really want to know? I mean, what would happen if I came home at like six in the morning, and they had no idea? I think I’d be so pissed that I’d admit the whole thing just to see what they’d do.
    I sling my bag over my shoulder, and check it one more time to make sure it’s got everything I need. I feel like I’m about to break out of a juvie prison or something.
    I listen through the closed door. The game is on, I can hear that much. Chances are good my mom is still sitting next to Dad, doing her stupid-ass crossword puzzle. To get to the front door and out to the street, I’ll have to walk—or run—right past them. Their backs’ll be to me, but the floor is hardwood and squeaks, so sneaking past isn’t possible.
    I swear, it’s like they installed it specifically to thwart me.
    Will
they try to stop me? Will Dad jump up and run after me and tackle me? No. He can’t tear himself away from the TV.
He works so hard all week, Morrigan
, my mom says every weekend. Like that’s some kind of excuse. I work hard too, more or less, at least during the school year, and you don’t see me
potatoed
on the couch all damn weekend. Anyway, with any luck, Ash will pull up while the game is on and not during a commercial. During a commercial, he might be off the couch. If only there was some way to—
    I turn. I smile.
    I go over to my window, crank it open, and take off the screen. It’s not a huge opening, but I’m kinda small, and I think I can squeeze through. I’ve never actually snuck out before; I never really had to, not even when me and Josh were going out. But this’ll buy me some time. And spare me getting tackled, just in case.
    My phone rings once. I look at the screen.
    Ashley.
    I turn on my radio, not too loud or too quiet. A couple more seconds and I’m out the window, running like our friend Anthony, star receiver for SBHS, headed for a touchdown.(
You like the analogy, Dad?
) I race through the backyard and out the gate near our driveway. My dad’s polished blue Civic gives me a little cover from the living room windows. I hit the sidewalk as Ashley pulls up in her dad’s beige car.
    I fling the door open and leap in.
    “Go, go, go!” I squeal, caught up in the moment.
    Ashley doesn’t peel out, though. She checks behind her for traffic, and slowly pulls back into the street. Such a drag.
    “What’s up?” I ask, a little breathless. I look back at the house, expecting my mom or dad to be racing after me. No such luck.
    “Morrigan …,” Ash says, a little whiny, like she still thinks it’s a bad idea.
    I slap her thigh. “Forget it! We’re free!”
    “Where are we going? The party hasn’t started probably.”
    “Not your place,” I say. “As soon as they know I’m gone, that’s the first place they’ll call. Or look. We need to go somewhere else.”
    “Super Cuca’s?”
    “Oh, hell yeah!” I laugh. And finally, Ashley grins a little, too. Super Cuca’s makes The. Best. Burritos. Ever.
    “Your dad is going to freak out as soon as he finds out you’re gone,” Ashley says, turning onto Micheltorena.
    “You know what? Screw him!” I say, and I surprise myself at how angry I sound. I guess I had more on my mind than just this junk with the car. “He won’t notice, because he never notices anything! God, it might be tomorrow after
noon
before he notices.”
    Ashley chews on her lower lip for a sec. It’s enough to tell me what I already know: that I’m right. Ashley’s seen how my parents are. When she comes over and says hi to my dad, she usually gets a brief wave, or maybe a “Hey.” They like her and all, I guess—or maybe they don’t care who my best friend is. They acted the same way back in Rochester, before we moved to S.B. for “a better job opportunity” for my