28: Party

I decided to throw a party. As soon as I made that decision, I went to ask my parents' permission. That's the thing about being fifteen. You can make all the decisions in your life you want as long as you get permission. My parents had almost eclipsed my amazing weekend with four girlfriends when they gave me a Macintosh computer for my birthday. I wanted one, yes. I'd told them I was saving money to buy one. I'd answered their questions about why I wanted a computer and if that was the best one for my purposes. But I never in a million years expected them to buy one. And a printer, too! I was learning the graphics program and had immediately ordered a chemistry program from Edmund Scientific. I was sort of doing experiments right on screen without mixing the chemicals. But I kept a careful record of the experiments and as I could, I was either buying chemicals and materials to run the experiments at home, or convincing Mr. J that they would be good to run in Advanced Chemistry.

Back to the party. Halloween was coming and it was time all of us in the dating group got together where we could have fun without anyone else commenting on how weird we were. I used my new computer to put together a complete party plan, including a budget for how much everything would cost (my parents). I was surprised that they countered with some suggestions that I hadn't thought about. They said, for example, that with the menu I planned I would do nothing but run back and forth to the kitchen all night and wouldn't be able to enjoy my own party. Man. That would suck. I simplified the menu with all food that could be prepared in advance and didn't need monitoring during the party. It turned out cheaper, too.

I worked on my computer and created invitations and printed them out. I printed a few extra. I remembered the clause in our agreement that we weren't a clique. We were just people who wanted to date each other. I thought that the other people who regularly shared with us should be invited as well.

The only interruptions in planning the party, other than school and homework, were the musical and basketball tryouts. The musical was a breeze for me. It played for three nights—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—and I had five lines. It turned out that they were the funniest lines in the play because of the way they were set up. Every time I appeared, people would listen for "Yes ma'am." On Saturday night a bunch of the people who had seen the show on Thursday and Friday came again and every time one of my lines came up, the whole audience shouted them out. Yeah. It was fun.

Saturday, a week before the party, Whitney came over. We intended to go riding. She heard how much fun Rhonda, Denise, and Samantha had riding with me and wanted me to take her out on a horse. I was really looking forward to it. We walked out the back door after she'd met Mom and Dad and saw my basketball hoop.

"You gotta ball, Bri?" she asked.

"Sure. Doesn't everybody?"

"Let's play some one-on-one before we go riding." Whitney had taken to wearing a basketball jersey over just about anything else she wore. Seems like she had one from every pro team in the country. They looked good on her, too.

We started shooting some baskets. Of course, that led to a game of horse and Whitney discovered that I could make just about any shot she could. Of course, she could make mine, too, unless I was way outside. Finally, we started trying to rush the basket and score against the other person. She was taller than me by six or seven inches. She said she was six feet even, but I thought she'd grown more since school started. At almost five-seven, she still had a lot of reach on me. It was hard to shoot over her. I kept having to drive and fade-away so she couldn't swat the ball out of the air. It was an eye-opener when she stole the ball while I was dribbling. She just grabbed it and did an easy layup. She fell for my hook shot fake almost every time, though. We had a blast and were hot and sweaty by the time we called a break. We went in to get drinks and I showed her my room. It's the coolest part of the house when the weather gets cold. I didn't turn my space heater on unless I was going to be up there a while, like at night. My train had been shoved out of the way this year. It was kind of sad, but I just had too much other stuff to do to play with a model railroad.

"You're a pretty cool boyfriend," Whitney said. "Wish you were, like, eight inches taller. I think I'd try to get you out of the dating group."

"Oh, you just think that because I won't let you get a shot off."

"That's true." What? That was supposed to be sarcastic. "I mean, Coach Hancock has had me in to work with a few guys he wants on the JV team and none of them take me seriously. It's like, 'Oh the girl has the ball. Let her take a shot.' I keep sinking them but nobody ever puts the pressure on like you do. I haven't had this good a workout since camp this summer. I don't believe Coach thinks I can play because all I ever do is make easy shots."

"That sucks! You're great out there."

"Will you come work out with me to show him I can really play?"

"Wouldn't someone who actually plays ball be better? Like Carl?"

"Carl's better than the others, but even he has this 'she's a girl' attitude. Please, Brian?"

"Okay, sure. Coach has been pestering me to come out anyway. This will show him for sure that you're a good choice and I'm not."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. If you had a team backing you up, you'd be deadly. That outside shot is wicked."

"Yeah. Unless someone happens to be standing in front of me. And I dribble like a cripple."

"I could help you with that. The coaches at camp ran dribbling drills every day."

"Okay. I'll do it. Just don't blame me if Coach laughs us both off the court."

"Will you kiss me now?"

"Really, Whitney?"

"You know, I'm not really going out much with any of the guys. They all think I'm too tall. I don't really care much because we're all friends, but ... There's not so much difference in our height when we're sitting down. Mom says my height is all in my legs."

"Okay, let's sit." It was probably a relief that she didn't have to keep ducking her head with my low ceilings. She headed for the bed. "No here, on the floor." I plopped down in the middle of the area rug. Might not be as comfortable as the bed, but we weren't going to lie down. Not exactly. She started to sit beside me but I turned her so she was beside me but facing the opposite direction.

"Oh! Like in Candace's car."

"You've got to admit that worked."

"Cheeses, it sure did."

Once we were in position, she kind of leaned back against my knees to support her back. We were looking each other right in the eye and she kind of bit her lip a little and smiled.

"Brian, that one time with you was my only time. I'm not a very good kisser."

"If that one time was your only time, you have a natural talent."

"I'm just so ugly. I understand if you don't really want to kiss me."

"Whitney, who told you you were ugly? I've never thought that once."

"I'm so tall. And I guess I dress like a boy. Nobody notices me."

"I do. And I'm sorry I don't pay more attention to you, girlfriend. I never thought having fourteen girlfriends would be such a problem."

"Serves you right."

"You want to know a secret? It's going to embarrass me and it might embarrass you, too."

"Tell me."

"These basketball jerseys are really long. I suppose because real basketball players are tall. On me it would hang to my knees. I'm sure Coach Hancock would have to order me a jersey from the midget league."

"They don't have a midget league."

"Guess I'm out of luck, then. But you know what I think when I see you wear one?"

"Please don't tell me you think of some pro basketball player. I wouldn't believe you."

"No. I think how cool it would be if that was all you were wearing."

"Brian!"

"It would be like an ultra mini skirt. And these sleeve holes. I mean, you only wear them over t-shirts and stuff, but if you didn't have anything on under it, I'd be trying to get beside you all the time because I'm sure I'd be able to see your nipples. And it would be so easy to slip a hand in from the side. I bet you wouldn't dare bend over in it."

"Mmm. Brian, kiss me. Please kiss me." I did. Just holding Whitney there in my arms as we sat facing each other on the floor was pretty intense. Kissing her was a whole different world.

Wednesday after school I joined Carl and Doug in the locker room to dress for a basketball warm-up. It wasn't official practice, or even tryouts. Season didn't start until the first of November. So officially, we were just playing some pickup games. It just happened that Coach Hancock was the gym monitor for after-school activities.

"You're kidding. Brian the half-pint and Whitney the giant girl in the game. Who wants them?"

"Josh, you don't want the two of us on the same team. None of the rest of you would ever get the ball," I said. Josh had dominated our junior high basketball team, even though Lionel outscored him and outplayed him. Josh was really physical in his play and everyone avoided him. No one was talking about moving him to varsity this year like Lionel, though. That meant that he would be the de facto leader of the JV team even though there would probably be sophomores and juniors on the team.

"Yeah, right. You two with your boyfriends and Ty. If any of you can even score in the first five minutes we'll take you seriously." I grinned at Whitney. I didn't really know Ty, but Carl and Doug pulled him in for a conference.

"Just put it in play and let Whitney bring it down court," I said. "That challenge was directed at her. Let her make the play."

"Okay for the first time," Ty said, "but the next time we get the ball it goes to a player. I don't want to be humiliated by Josh and his crew. They think they own the team."

"Don't sweat it," Carl said. "I think Brian has a plan. Go with it."

Of course, Josh got the tip, ran down court and scored. His gang decided to press Ty on the inbound and Whitney took off running. Ty launched the ball over the heads of the front three and Whitney took it. I paced her on her left as the two guards closed on her. That was all she was waiting for; she drove to the right and they followed her. She flipped the ball behind her back to me and I nailed it on an easy layup.

"No. That's a fluke," Josh jeered. "You'll never score again."

We ran up court and took our positions. Whitney was as tall as Doug, but we put him at forward and Whitney and me at guard. Ty took center and Carl was the other forward. Three of Josh's team came down to set picks and rebound. They knew each other and knew how to play. Josh took the ball from his other guard and they brought it down court. Whitney waited until he was just across the center line and had no place to back up when she lunged for the ball. Josh was quick and snatched the ball away from her, but Whitney kept going. Josh winged the ball over to his other guard and I stepped in front of it and took it a quarter of the way down before I launched it up. Whitney picked the ball up in the air and shot without even taking a step. It was four to two.

"Hey! How about some protection here!" Josh shouted at his team. Whitney and I fell back and Ty, Doug, and Carl moved forward into the press on the inbound. Josh fell over his own feet trying to get by Carl. Doug scooped up the ball and whipped it to Ty coming hard from the other side of the court. One bounce and up. Six to two.

"We just wanted to make sure you knew it wasn't just me and Whitney that are your worst nightmares," I said.

It was war from that point on. Josh and his team tried to use their muscle to push us around. They caught up before we started avoiding their elbows and shoulders. I ended up in the worst place possible, under the basket with the ball. I couldn't even see the damned thing, nor any of my teammates. I knew Josh was right behind me, blocking my way, and two of his goons were closing from in front of me. I snapped my right hand in the air and felt Josh go up to block my shot. As he came down I spun to my right and hooked the ball in with my left.

"You fucking runt!" Josh yelled at me. A whistle pierced the air. Coach Hancock came marching across the floor. He was six-six and played college ball at I.U. He blasted Josh for swearing on the court and lectured us all about sportsmanship. Then he sent us all to the showers and closed the gym.

Thursday after school, Rose and Brenda came over to help get ready for the party. We were going all out with the decorations and had cobwebs stretched from one end of the house to the other. We did our best to figure out the spookiest stuff we could arrange and changed the light bulbs in the family room lamps to black lights with glow-in-the-dark skeletons nearby. They really had an eye for the macabre and wanted to know if we had any latex gloves. Mom had a pair for cleaning and they stuffed them with toilet paper and then put cooking oil on them. Reaching into the candy bowl and finding a slimy hand was gross! They agreed we'd have to have a box of tissue sitting next to the candy bowl so people could wipe their hands.

Mom drove them home and I got out to walk each to her door. When Rose and I were on the doorstep she said, "I explicitly give you permission to kiss me goodnight and caress my left boob." What? I had to figure out which hand to use to get to her left. But I was not going to pass up an opportunity to touch Rose's tits. I kissed her and raised my right hand to squeeze her boob. It blew up! She'd pushed a balloon up under her jacket as we kissed and when I reached for her breast she popped it. Scared the shit out of me!

"Aw. What happened to my boobie?"

"It was boobie trapped," I laughed.

"Mmm. Better check to see if there's any more, um ... boobie traps," she said. She opened her jacket and pulled my hand to her chest as I kissed her again. Oh, Rose. She pushed me away. "School night. Hurry and get Brenda home. 'Night, boyfriend!"

When I got back in the car, Brenda snuggled up to me and giggled. She obviously knew what was going to happen since she didn't come to the door with us.

"That was mean," I said, "and very funny."

"Now you have to answer a test," Brenda said as we walked to her door. "Which is better, tits or ass? All boys seem to be able to think about is a girl's tits or ass. So tonight you have to choose. When you kiss me goodnight, do you fondle my breast or my butt?"

"After my recent experience, I'm a little worried about boobie traps," I laughed.

"No traps. I don't even care which you pick. I just want to know which you like best—my breasts or my butt." I took both Brenda's shoulders in my hands and looked her in the eye. I had a couple inches on her now, but we were still close enough to see eye-to-eye.

"Brenda, I love you. In fifth grade, you helped save my life, but I loved you before you had either tits or ass. I could never dare to go up to you and say anything, but I love how smart you are, how pretty your face is. I love your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you are having a good time. That was all before you grew these things and while your butt still looked like a boy's. It's not your tits or ass I love, Brenda. It's you."

"Oh, Brian. Kiss me. Make love to me. Touch me anyplace you want. I love you, too, baby." I kissed her. I didn't touch her in any of those places, but I did eventually slide my hands around her shoulders so I could embrace her while we kissed. Then I said, "Goodnight, Brenda," and went back to the car while she watched me. We didn't pull away from the curb, though, until she'd gone inside.

Friday after school, Carl, Liz, and Candace came over to help with food prep. I got the bread dough ready for the pigs in a blanket and Candace got the first batch of cookies in the oven as I took Carl and Liz up to my room. The change was going to be pretty simple. I wanted them to just move my bed into the corner, my desk and computer to the other end of the room, and disassemble my train set. There was going to be an after party in my room.