* * *

We walked up the steps and I wished immediately that I’d said no.

  The house was beautiful. It looked like something out of People magazine, like a special on Beyonce’s house or something. I raked my fingers through my hair and made sure my necklace was straight. Marti looked excited. How? How could she be, in a place like this?

These kinds of houses belonged to people who never failed to make the life of a nerd absolutely miserable.

 

   When Marti asked if I wanted to go to the party I’d said yes of course. How could I say no when I could see that she wanted to go? Especially since she’d already given up a dozen of these invitations so that I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

   Marti’s mom had died when Marti and I were in middle school, and her dad traveled a lot, so during the school year Marti lived with her Aunt Ellen just two doors down from me. But on holiday breaks, and summers Marti’s dad took vacation time and they lived at the beach house. She had a whole separate set of friends up here, and I knew she missed them a lot during the year. All week long people had been calling her, asking her to do stuff, and she had politely refused. But as sweet as she is, my best friend can’t always hide her disappointment. I knew she wanted to go to this party, so I said yes and there we stood on that huge front porch.

  The girl who was hosting tonight was one of Marti's closest friends named Madelene whom I had privately hated for years.

  It had always been “Marti and Meg”, our whole lives. Then after Auntie Grace died, and Marti started spending more time at the new beach house, Madelene came along and “Marti and Madelene” became a thing. Marti’s birthday is five days after mine and we used to make a big deal about it. Of course Madelene’s birthday is only three days before Marti’s.

They both swim.

They were both ballerinas.

They both love purple.

Madelene’s always posting on Marti’s facebook, saying things like “Heyyyyyy best fraaand!”

   I mean seriously, how hard is it to spell “friend”?

 

Marti rang the bell, her eyes glowing and her soft face pink with party-flush. I rubbed my palms together, a nervous habit I’d developed years ago. I realized it made me seem even nerdier than I was, and so I stopped. I didn’t want my best friend to be embarrassed by me in front of all these rich kids.