I reached for the fridge to grab more creamer. My hand paused as I noticed a flier on the front of the fridge that made me forget about my panic and fear: an invitation to the neighborhood block party. I had stuck it there when I found it in my mailbox, and then it promptly became part of the decor, like the spot on the rug in the family room.

HEY ALL YOU WONDERFUL NEIGHBORS! IT’S TIME TO CELEBRATE THE START OF SUMMER. PLEASE JOIN US ALL AT THE ANNUAL WHISPERING FARMS BLOCK PARTY ON MAPLE LEAF, AT 4:00 P.M. ON JUNE 23. BRING A SIDE DISH AND A DESSERT. GRILLING MEAT WILL BE PROVIDED. CORNHOLE AND BOCCE BALL TOURNAMENT TO BEGIN AT 5:00 P.M. SHARP—RAIN OR SHINE!

It was tomorrow. Shit. That meant I had to go to the grocery store—again—and figure out what to make. I could always bring a tub of premade coleslaw and some grocery store cupcakes, but then I would be the only one bringing something not homemade. There would be casseroles, buckets of puppy chow, homemade cheese curds, and every kind of dip it was possible to make out of cream cheese and French onion soup mix. It was like the Super Bowl of the block, and I was never in contention to get the MVP ring.

I would have considered skipping it, but the epicenter of the party was two houses down, so there would be no way to hide.

I took a long gulp of my coffee before muttering, “Block party? Now, that’s something to really be scared of.”

CHAPTER
5

Crock-Pots lined the folding tables, which were peppered with bowls of tortilla chips, pretzels, and unidentifiable dips, in the middle of the street outside our house. I walked out, a bowl of hot corn dip and bag of tortilla chips in one hand, a pan of caramel brownies in the other.

I pasted on a smile as I approached the group milling about in the street, which was blocked off by two sawhorses at each end. Next door, two bounce houses were inflated in Jess’s yard, and across the street, at the Hacker house, preparations were under way for the cornhole and bocce ball tournaments. Andrew Hacker stood in his front yard, wearing his signature brightly colored Crocs. Heather was surrounded by her group of friends as she held court. She said something, and they all laughed, their dangly earrings swaying. I wondered what they were joking about, and whether it was again my friends and me. Further down, one of the neighbors was filling water balloons with a hose and still another was lighting sparklers for the kids.