C’mon, Collins, he whined earlier when I insisted it was a bad idea. We’ve spent all your birthdays together. Can’t stop now. It’s true—Andrew was there the day I was born. Before, actually. Our moms became friends in Lamaze class, so we’ve been stuck with each other forever. Andrew’s birthday was last week, and his parents took us out for dinner at Giovanni’s. Not really the birthday adventure he had in mind. So now that they’re out of town, I’m stuck with this.

I walk into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding Jarrod Price, who’s puking into the trash can. There are cups and dirty plates scattered all over the Formica counter. Andrew promised to get me pizza if I agreed to the party, and now the boxes litter the kitchen, covered in stray crusts and congealed cheese.

I gather up the dishes and put them in the sink, lathering up the sponge with soap and water.

“Please tell me you’re not cleaning right now.” Andrew slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a quick hug. He’s always reminded me a little of a golden retriever—a smiling, floppy mess of sandy hair and freckles. Sometimes I swear I can see him wagging his tail.

“I just thought I’d get a head start.” I pick up a red plastic cup and run it under the faucet. Andrew whacks it out of my hand, splashing us both. His flannel shirt is already so rumpled it’s like he’s been rolling around in it. Which he probably has, with some girl or other. Gross.

“No cleaning on your birthday,” he says. “House rules. Besides, this is a red Solo cup. It’s disposable.”

“Don’t let it hear you say that. You might hurt its feelings.” I glance across the room to where Danielle is standing, sur-rounded by a gaggle of junior girls. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

Andrew follows my gaze. “She’s Danielle Oliver. She thrives off attention. Things couldn’t have worked out better for her if she’d planned it.”

I think about my conversation with her upstairs, how she made me promise not to tell. “I just feel bad. If it were me—”

“She’s not you.” He loops an arm around my back again. “Thank God. You think I would have stuck around her for eighteen years?” I let him lead me over to the fridge. “I got you those stupid watermelon drinks you like. Did you see them?” He pulls out a pink frosted glass bottle and I grab it from him with joy.