House Party

Eric Walters

orca soundings

Copyright © Eric Walters 2007

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage
and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without
permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Walters, Eric, 1957-

House party / written by Eric Walters.

(Orca soundings)
ISBN 978-1-55143-743-9 (bound)
ISBN 978-1-55143-741-5 (pbk.)

I. Title. II. Series.
PS8595.A598H69  2007     jC813'.54      C2007-903837-9

Summary:
Trying desperately to fit in and make friends, Casey and her
friend hold a house party when her parents are out of town.

First published in the United States, 2007
Library of Congress Control Number:
2007930416

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover design: Teresa Bubela
Cover photography: Getty Images

        Orca Book Publishers                     Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Station B                           PO Box 468
         Victoria, BC Canada                             Custer, WA USA
       V8R 6S4                                              98240-0468

www.orcabook.com

Printed and bound in Canada.

Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper.

010 09 08 07 • 5 4 3 2 1

To those kids who choose to party responsibly.

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Hello, it's me!” my mother called from the hallway.

“Come in!” I called back. I put down my book, and Jen quickly minimized the msn window on the computer. Her school assignment now filled the screen.

My mother always knocked before she entered. She poked her head in the door
and I looked up from where I was lying on my bed, studying math.

“Are you girls studying hard?” she asked.

“As hard as we can,” Jen said.

That was only a half-lie. I'd been studying hard because I had a big math test on Monday and math wasn't one of my strengths. Jen, on the other hand, had spent almost all her time on msn talking to people she didn't know, hadn't met and probably never would meet. If it was possible to be addicted to the Internet, Jen was.

“I was thinking it might be time for you two to take a break,” my mother said. “I've just taken some cookies out of the oven.”

“I told you I could smell cookies,” Jen said.

“Double chocolate with extra chips,” my mother said.

“I
love
your cookies,” Jen said, and my mother smiled.

Jen wasn't kidding. She did love my mother's cookies. And her pies and cakes
and pretty well anything else she baked. Jen liked sweets. A lot. Probably more than was good for her.

Jen had a little bit of a
weight
problem, and she was always on some sort of diet, trying to lose a few pounds. She switched back and forth from diet to diet. Each new one was “guaranteed” to drop the weight.

I knew which method would probably work—don't eat so much and exercise more—but that one hadn't come up yet.

It wasn't that Jen was fat, because she wasn't. She was just a little plump. She was a bit overweight, not more than ten or fifteen pounds for sure.

That wasn't how she saw herself, though. As far as Jen was concerned, she was just plain fat. And worse, those extra pounds were the reason that things didn't work out for her. She was positive she was only a few pounds away from boyfriends, popularity, fame and fortune.

“So, do you want some m ilk and cookies?” my mother asked.

“A cookie, or
two
, would be great,” I said, giving Jen the evil eye. “But could you bring them up here so we could keep studying?”

“I would never want to get in the way of studying,” she said, “but there was something I wanted to talk to you about as well.”

I felt the hair on the back of my neck go up.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, trying not to show my anxiety. I didn't like these sorts of conversations. Six months ago, that had been the first line my parents had used when they told me that we were moving—leaving behind everybody and everything I'd ever known to come down here to live.

“Nothing serious. It can wait until after dinner.”

I sat up on the edge of the bed. “It doesn't have to wait. Let's talk now.”

“Sure, if you want.”

“I want.” That was another half-lie. I didn't want to talk about anything really, but I'd rather talk about it now than later.
Talking about it later left too much time for my imagination to play around.

“You know your father is going away on business this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, suspiciously. His business took him back to our old town at least once a month.

“I was thinking that it would be good for me to go along with him. It's easier to take care of the house closing details in person.”

Our house had just sold two weeks ago. It had been on the market since we'd moved. In my heart—if not in my head—I figured that if we didn't sell the house we'd eventually just move back home. Now it was gone, along with my last faint hopes.

“So that would mean you have to come with us,” she said.

“That would be great!” I exclaimed. I could visit with old friends and…no I couldn't.

“I can't go,” I said. “I have a soccer game on Saturday morning and a math exam on Monday.”

“You could miss the game, and there's no law that says you can't study there,” my mother said.

“First off, I really shouldn't miss the game, and second, while there's no law about me studying there, it wouldn't do much good. I need Jen to help me. Without her, I'm dead.”

“I'm sorry, Casey, but I really need to go and we can't leave you on your own.”

“She could stay with me!” Jen said.

I turned to my mom. “Could I?”

“I don't see why not,” my mom said. “Should you check with your mother?”

Jen shook her head. “She's always good about things like that.”

“Just give her a call,” my mother said. “It will settle my mind to know that it's all taken care of.”

“No problem. I'll just tell her that Casey needs somebody to babysit her. I'll take good care of her.”

“You, taking care of me?” I gasped.

Jen had become my best friend since I'd moved here, but she was not the most
responsible person in the world. She didn't just need a babysitter. She practically needed a keeper. She was always suggesting something or other that could potentially get us in trouble.

“You know, I could just stay here by myself,” I suggested.

“You're too young.”

“I'm fifteen, not five,” I protested. “I'm old enough to be left alone at home.”

“Alone, yes. Overnight, no,” my mother said.

“I'd be fine.”

“It's easy to say that, but
I
don't even like being at home alone at night,” my mother said.

Actually I didn't really like being home by myself when my parents were out for the evening. The house was old and it made serious squeaks and creaks. It sometimes sounded like somebody was walking around when there was nobody here but me.

“I'm
old
enough to be alone, and you
could
leave me alone, but it would be okay for me to stay at Jen's.” I paused.
A different solution came to mind. “Or maybe Jen
could
stay here with me.”

“Yeah, I could check and see if I could stay here overnight,” Jen said. “That would be fun!”

My mother shook her head emphatically. “I don't think so, but please check to make sure it's all right for Casey to sleep at your house.”

I came back to my room carrying a tray holding two glasses of milk and four cookies. Jen was still on the phone with her mother. There was no question that I'd be able to sleep over. Jen's mother never said no to her. Jen said she hadn't heard a “no” from either parent since they had separated the previous year.

“Okay…sure…no problem,” Jen said. “I'll be home around seven…okay…thanks.”

She put down the phone, looked at me and smiled.

“It's all set. My mother said it was all right for me to sleep here on Saturday night.”

“That's good. Then I can…wait a second… did you say for
you
to sleep
here
?”

She nodded.

“That wasn't what you were supposed to ask. I was supposed to sleep at
your
house.”

“But that wouldn't be as much fun,” she said.

“But my mother said you couldn't sleep here, but that I could sleep at your house.”

“And that's why we're not going to tell your mother. Or mine.”

“But we can't do that!” I protested.

“Of course we can. I only have two questions,” Jen said. “How many and who?”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded.

“Who do we invite, and how many do we invite.”

“Invite to what? Invite where?”

She smiled. “To the party, this Saturday, right here at your house.”

“But we're not having a party. My parents would never let me have a party.”

“That's why we're not inviting them, asking them or telling them,” Jen said. “What they don't know, they can't object to.”

“I can't do that,” I said, shaking my head.

“Why not?”

“My parents would kill me if they found out I was throwing a party while they were gone.”

“First off, they wouldn't actually
kill
you. What's the worst thing they could do? Ground you? Take away your allowance?”

“They could do that.”

“Big deal. If they took away your allowance, I'd treat you for a couple of weeks. Besides, they're not going to find out. They're going to be hundreds of miles away, right?”

“Yeah.”

“No matter how loud we turn up the music, they won't be able to hear it from that far away.”

“But somebody could tell them,” I protested.

“Who?”

“Your mother for one.”

“We just keep them away from each other for a few weeks, and by then it'll be done and past.”

“How about neighbors?”

“You told me your parents hardly know the neighbors. Besides, do your neighbors usually know what's going on inside your house?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why would this Saturday be any different?” she asked. “Nobody would know if we had a few people over, would they?”

“I guess not.”

“Besides, you hardly have neighbors.”

She was right about that too. Our street was at the edge of town, and our house was at the end of our street. It dead-ended into
a field, and our nearest neighbors were two properties over.

“It takes money to throw a party,” I said. “Pop and chips and decorations and—”

“No decorations. This isn't some lame kid's birthday party with balloons. We'll just ask people to bring stuff. Sort of a byob. You know—bring your own bottle…of pop…or whatever.”

That “whatever” scared me.

“It's Thursday night. Do you really think we can get things organized and get out invitations and get people to come here for Saturday night?”