21 : Saturday

Step Twenty One: Every now and then, send a quick text to let him know that you saw something that made you think of him! This can ensure that you're on his mind, just like he's on yours!

I'm spending the whole day with him, I think. No need for this.

I'm pretty sure this is the first step that I'm ignoring, though...

~~~~~~~~

Amanda's house is one of the less modest ones in Misty Bay. I arrive with Blake, Russell, and Jason, each of us holding a gift for Zoe. Despite Jason and I pondering what to get her for a while, we both gave up. I have a gift card in my hand; hopefully, she gets something she'll like.

Anyway, Blake hops up the porch steps, taking a big brass ring in his hand and knocking it against a giant door. Amanda's parents chose a really grand residence. This looks like it has three or four floors. I peek in through a window and see chandeliers and all sorts of fancy glass things. I let out a low whistle. "Let's not accidentally wreck this place," I murmur. Blake only cackles a little. Sometimes he scares me.

A twenty-something-year-old girl lets us into the house. She has light blonde hair, like Amanda, but her eyes are a bright hazel in comparison to her dark brown. "Is this the birthday thing Amanda told me about? You guys are FROGs? You look human to me."

"Never underestimate the morphing powers of a frog," Blake says ominously. "Are you a human?"

"...Yes."

"Do you have a human name?" he asks. Blake's eyes bore into her, and I pull on his shoulder.

"What he means to ask," I interrupt, "is, 'Who are you?'"

"Amber, Amanda's sister. I'm your adult supervision tonight," she tells us. "Since I'm back from college for the weekend, I'm in charge of babysitting you guys." She heaves a sigh. "I can't wait."

Russell snorts. "We can handle ourselves."

She sticks her tongue out at him and retreats into the house, whipping her phone out. The rest of us stand in place, unsure where to go. This house is a maze. There's a big flight of stairs in front of us, but it spirals somewhere out of view. All around us are little rooms, like offices or pathways or something.

The four of us exchange looks, until Jason calls out Amanda's name. There's a rustling noise, then the sound of something falling, and Amanda steps out of a random room. "Hi. Come with me," she instructs, leading us up the stairs. I hesitate at the back.

"With my jacket on?"

Amanda waves her arms around. "Do whatever you want. My parents aren't home to see the mess, so you can dump it on the floor."

"Nice." I take my jacket off and dump it on the floor, then follow the rest of the guys to a huge room.

If I didn't see the couch upon walking in, I would probably guess that this is a ballroom. Oops, forgot to bring my big fancy dress. Tragic. It's the living room, though, and there's a flatscreen on one wall. I raise my eyebrows. Welcome to the mansions of Misty Bay, I guess. Zoe is splayed out on one couch, a videogame controller in her hand. "Ahoy there," she greets, gesturing at the couch. "Have a seat; Amanda is gonna be our servant today."

"Yep..." Amanda mutters. "The game is set up already. Zoe's a beast at this, by the way—beware. She knows what she's doing."

We settle down on the couch. I'm not a huge video game person, but I have my tricks. Amanda is right, though; Zoe is very good. She kills all of us at least twice in the hour we play. At some point, Amber clears her throat. "You have to feed them, Amanda."

"Oh!" She leaps to her feet, chucking a remote. It nearly hits my face, and Amanda mumbles a quick apology before disappearing downstairs. She returns a moment later, dangerously balancing two boxes of pizza and a tray with various items on it between her arms. Zoe plucks a white, cubic box off the tray and sits back down with it in her lap. "Be careful," Amanda warns her. "That's a chocolate cake, and this is a white couch on a white rug."

"Pshhh," Zoe waves her arm in the air. "We'll be fine. Did you bring any fun stuff?"

Wordlessly, Amanda nods. She tosses each of us a red solo cup and seemingly pulls a gallon of orangey-brown stuff out of thin air. Amber stops typing to look at her younger sister, eyebrows raised. "Dad's home-brewed beer? Wow, Amanda." They do an intense staring battle, and it looks like she loses: Amanda hands her a cup, and she pauses to set some ground rules for us.

"No spilling anything onto the furniture. No spilling anything onto each other."

"And most importantly, have fun!" Blake adds, leaning forward to take the gallon container from Amanda and pour it messily into his cup. Amanda makes a face but says nothing. Blake is the first to take a sip. He nods appreciatively. "Tell you dad I like his beer."

Amanda snorts. "As if he's going to know we're doing this." Amber hums lightly to remind us that she's here, and Amanda pales. "Let the record show that I never said that, please."

Zoe opens the cake box, and her eyes light up. She makes a face when she tries some of the liquid in her cup, and, curious, I take a sip too. It... tastes like beer. I don't know. It's not particularly special, but props to Amanda's dad for making it. The game continues on the TV screen, but no one is really paying attention to it anymore. We all hand Zoe our gifts, which she hands to Amanda, who hands them to Amber, who hands them back to Amanda, who heaves a sigh and goes to put them downstairs by the door. "By the way, congratulations on being trapped here," she says upon returning. "You're staying the night."

"Okay," we all say in unison, which is a bit creepy. I continue, "It's not like we're going to be in any safe position to drive."

Blake shrugs. "I'm sure we could figure something out."

"No." Zoe wags her finger back and forth. "You're staying here."

We turn our attention back to the video game, occasionally swallowing some of Amanda's dad's beer. Honestly, the more I have of it, the more immune I become to its burning flavor. I can already see the alcohol taking its toll (ha, that rhymed-ish) on some of us. Blake bops his head up and down to a song none of us can hear, and Russell blinks for five seconds instead of a couple milliseconds. Jason keeps accidentally dropping his controller, which moves him to tears every time. Weird guy, huh. I have to consciously hold in random urges to scream.

After Amanda loses the fifth round in a row, she stands up and huffs once, loudly, before pointing at the TV. Between gritted teeth, she offers, "How does a break sound?"

"Chill," Russell snorts, opening his eyes after a long blink. "Let's have some cake, then. Zoe?"

Zoe shrugs and reaches in to take the cake out of the box just as Amanda flops onto the couch next to her. Zoe's arms jerk to the side, and the cake goes flying—right onto my lap. Of course. What did I expect? I'm the main character of my own life; something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.

Frosting smears across my face as I nearly choke on a candle. The group (aside from a very mortified Amanda) laughs at me and I swear I hear a camera go off. "Um," I say, licking my lips, "the cake is good, I guess."

"Is it?" Amber asks, mildly interested.

Blake licks my forehead. "Mm, yeah. I love buttercream."

Everyone stares at him in disbelief as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the hell, Blake?" I demand incredulously.

He shrugs. "Frosting is frosting. It doesn't matter if it's on a face or not; I'm going to have a taste."

Slowly clapping, Zoe nods appreciatively. "This is why we're friends." She pounces on me next, and my heart stops beating for a moment as Zoe leans down to take a bite of the cake sitting in between my legs. My face flares red as I sputter nonsense, trying to scoot back. Away from the lunatics. Away.

Years can pass before my heart rate will be back to something resembling normal. I see Russell slyly slip his phone back into his pocket, smirking at me. Great. Not only will I be "Orange-Justice-On-A-Lunch-Table Guy" and "Haiku Boy;" I'll now be known as "Licked-Face-Lap-Cake Dude" as well.

We settle back down after that mildly horrifying moment, and Amanda waves her hand in a gesture that says, 'who cares anymore.' She sighs. "There are paper towels downstairs, Felix."

Carefully picking the chocolate cake up and putting it back into the box, I head off with Blake, going to a room where there are hopefully going to be paper towels. My pants are a bit sticky, but I can bear it. Suddenly, music begins blasting from the walls, and Blake and I cover our ears. "Why does it have to be so loud? We could hear it perfectly fine from before," I whine.

"Welcome to high school parties," Blake giggles. We head into the kitchen, squeezing our way through the door together. Neither could bear being polite enough to let the other through first. We split up—Blake goes to get some water, and I go to find paper towels. This kitchen is the size of my old dorm room, honestly. A few minutes of searching the corners of the room later, I wipe my pants off with the long-sought-after towels. Blake finishes his drink, stepping back from the sink and wiping his mouth.

I stare at him. "You drank straight from the sink?"

"I don't feel like I could trust myself to hold a glass cup," Blake defends himself. "C'mon. We've got some people to kill."

"We... what?"

"In the game!" he adds. "In the game. I mean, unless they win the game. If that happens—"

"Oh my goodness, Blake," I murmur, patting his shoulder. We go back upstairs, struggling to find our way back in this maze of a house and the haze in our brains. Another rhyme. Not really. Whatever. Blake and I finally re-arrive at the living room, where Zoe lies on the floor, splayed out.

"I hate human beings," Zoe groans. "Eighty million people texted me to wish me a happy birthday in the last hour. It's horrible. I don't think I've ever written 'thank you' as much as I have today."

Russell snorts and pushes his shoulder. "C'mon, human beings aren't that bad. I'm one, after all. And I'm amazing."

Zoe makes a face at me. "Sure, Russell."

"Alright." Russell claps his hands together and points accusingly at Amanda. "You need to feed us some real food, missy. Felix's pants don't count as food." Amanda furrows her eyebrows, shakes her head, and goes somewhere. She returns with various boxes in her hands.

The boxes of pizza that Amanda has don't last very long. Russell mumbles a quick thanks for the 'real food' before eating about a whole box. When the time that the candles on a cake would normally be lit comes around, Amanda sighs. Zoe doesn't care. I pick a stray crumb of the cake up off of the white carpet, wincing at the light brown stain. It's fine. Nothing bleach won't fix.

Blake leans over to grab a chunk (at this point, the cake is beyond slicing) of the mushed-up cake when he finishes his pizza. He can't reach; I'm in the way. Blake grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet, making me trip. I pull down on him a bit to try and regain my balance, and he kicks his leg to try and stabilize us. His leg contacts the soggy box filled with chocolate cake mush.

The double dark chocolate cake makes the weirdest squelching noise as it permanently ruins Amanda's mom's white carpet.

Not that the carpet wasn't already ruined from that time when Zoe threw the cake at me, but then, as I mentioned, it was something that enough bleach would have fixed. Now, though, the only thing to do would be to buy a new carpet.

Amanda utters a swear word that I won't put into writing at the same time that Blake screams incoherent noises of apology. When Blake is done ripping his vocal chords out, everything goes silent. More silent than the most silent of silent silences. And longer, too. This bad boy lasts for almost two full minutes. My skin is crawling by the time someone decides to exercise their vocal chords and break the ice.

"Do you have mint toothpaste?"

Amanda glares at Russell. "Yeah, tons," she deadpans. "Why don't you drop a cake into the bathtub while you search?" Blake whimpers slightly, afraid of what will happen to him when Amanda realizes that she shouldn't be taking her anger out on Russell.

"Cool. I'll be right back." Russell stands up to go find the toothpaste. I briefly wonder what the heck he's doing, before it clicks.

"Tik Tok life hacks!" I exclaim. "Amanda, people say that toothpaste gets stains out of carpets. It's worth a shot." It's not worth a shot. I know this, Amanda knows this, and Russell probably knows this too—but it's the only thing we can come up with. If it works, I will throw my fedora at my science teacher. Not that I have a fedora, but I think it would be a worthwhile purchase. And who knows... maybe if this life hack works, we'll be able to find stuff that fedoras can be useful for. Maybe I can turn it into a fishbowl. Maybe it can help me make sandcastles. Maybe Jason will find it attractive. Maybe—

Blake hasn't moved since he pulled me to my feet. When Amanda spins on her heel to pin her angered gaze on Blake, I feel bad for the guy. "If this doesn't work," Amanda says, her voice low and dangerous, "you aren't ever welcome back here."

Blake turns pale for the second time today. "Yes, ma'am."

I would snort under any other circumstances, but I hold myself together. Jason and I lock eyes, making a silent promise not to laugh.

"This is quite the birthday," Zoe remarks.

"Mhm," Amanda absently says. "Definitely."

Zoe, in all of her small-framed, glasses-wearing glory, puts an arm around my trembling friend's shoulders, gently guiding him away from the rest of the group. Jason takes my hand in his and pulls me back down to the floor. I shiver.

"Entertainment, eh?" my crush comments. He gives me a once-over which, under different circumstances, is a favor I'd gladly return. At the moment, I can only direct my attention to myself and my ruined clothes. They hadn't bothered me before, but now that things are quieter, I notice just how uncomfortable it is. Those paper towels didn't really do that much to help my poor clothes. And Amanda's mom's ruined carpet. I know which one I'll mourn more and, apparently, so does Jason.

We're going to miss this pink turtleneck.

"You've got a little something on your... everything."

"Sigh. Yeah, but it's fine. I'm more worried about Amanda and Zoe." At my words, we glance over at the former. She stands alone, shaking slightly. The girl can only handle so much chaos, and apparently a few hours with us is just unbearable. Plus, she's not exactly in the greatest frame of mind. Amber hasn't even glanced up from her phone; I think she's asleep.

"The heck is up with your drawers? Your closet is a disaster. And very monochromatic," Russell says as he barrels down the staircase. Why was he in a closet?

My question is answered when a shirt and pants are thrown at me. Will the 'throwing stuff at Felix' thing ever end?

No, Fate says. Beware of the wadded-up-paper. I have just under a moment to process what that means before something hits the back of my head. Russell starts scrubbing the carpet with toothpaste as Zoe lobs the paper towels at the rest of our heads. Blake stays, hunched over, beside her.

I walk over to my normally-peppy friend. "You okay, man?" When he doesn't answer, I pull him in for a hug. "Bro, say something."

"Knock knock."

No. No. This is not happening. "Sigh, Blake. Massive sigh. Who's there?"

"The delivery man."

"The delivery man, who?" I brace myself.

"It seems you're missing a few raspberries," Blake says. Instead of spitting on me, though, he licks my face. Again.

I swat him away. "Stop licking my face and get me paper towels or something."

Blake leans down to pick up a wad and chucks it at me. "Clean yourself up so we can start the thirst games," Zoe says, the only person aside from Amber who doesn't seem super fazed by today's fun events. She cringes at her own joke. "That sounded better in my head." A pause. "No, it didn't. I don't know why I said that."

A very long ten minutes later, Amanda has the six of us sitting around a little table in the middle of her bedroom. She reasoned that if we wreck another room in her house, it might as well be her own living quarters. She and Blake made up unreasonably quickly. But hey—if it works, it works. I can't be one to judge, despite having deleted multiple social media accounts that Blake has.

Zoe claps her hands. "Wait! Presents; while I'm still remembering stuff."

"How do you know you won't forget this?" Jason mutters.

When Zoe doesn't answer, Blake shrugs and turns to me. "No funny business," he says. He must realize that I have no idea what he means, because he decides to elaborate. "Drunk words are sober thoughts, and drunk actions are sober dreams. And we all know what you dream about, Lixie."

This is public humiliation; I think Blake is already further away from his sanity than he'd like to admit. Amber hides a chuckle behind her hand (she wasn't asleep, after all, and followed us to Amanda's room), and Zoe stares at me with an evil look in her eyes. "Okay, Blake." I let my eyes flick over to Russell, a subtle warning to both of them. "Just remember your own advice."

Blake smiles thinly, his lips pressed together. "I'll remember it; trust me."

Amanda returns, not that I actually noticed her leave, and silently dumps half the gift bags in front of Zoe. Jason shifts his weight beside me. In a burst of confidence, I comfortingly put my hand on his knee. That only makes his face red, but when I move to take my hand off, he puts his own hand over it, holding it in place. I blush, albeit not as much as he does.

"Is this some kind of sick, twisted joke?" Zoe asks, her face a mask of disgust as she looks at the first gift she pulled out. "Russell, what the fu—"

Amanda raises a single eyebrow.

Zoe clears her throat. "Russell, what a fun gift!"

I mean, she is justified in her almost-cussing. I wouldn't be super excited to receive a custom-made toilet brush with my face on it, either.

"I know, right? I figured that getting the plunger in addition to this would be a bit excessive—and a bit mean to my wallet, too—but this is perfect! It looks just like you!" Russell smiles. I shiver, only imagining what Zoe will get for Russell on his birthday as retaliation. Blake gets Zoe a few random perfumes (such as grass, concrete, bricks, charred wood, and the likes of those), to which Zoe responds by spritzing each of us with a different scent. To be honest, I think that the smell of dead leaves does not suit Jason. And for me? Zoe sprays me with the grass one. I guess I'm grass, now.

She makes little comment on the gift cards, which makes a lot of sense. Just a "thanks" will do. We stare at each other for a while, until Blake takes a long sip from his cup and, with fresh crazy-juice in his bloodstream, places a not-empty bottle down horizontally. He points to each of us, silent, then spins the bottle. Some beer spills onto the ground, and Amanda winces.

"Why does the bottle point on me?" Russell asks.

Blake shrugs. "Closet?"

Apparently, we're now playing drunk spin the bottle, dares-out-of-a-hat edition. My thoughts are getting cloudier by the second, but I still manage to keep a weak grasp on my sanity. Amber taps on her phone, not even looking at us. Some responsible chaperone she is.

We decide that while they're doing... whatever they're doing... in the closet, we'll write down a bunch more dares. After a couple minutes, Amanda spins the bottle. The whole time, I feel like the alcohol is setting my throat on fire, but it's okay. It's lit, pun intended. Amanda picks "hug for one minute."

The silence is deafening when the bottle lands on Zoe. The hug is awkward, forced, and completely unlike easy embraces that they've shared before. Blake and Russell only have to spend two more minutes together in the closet—huh, that's fitting, I think—by the time Amanda and Zoe's minute is over.

Jason goes next. He stares at the little slip of paper, his expression blank, for nearly thirty seconds. His eyes droop shut and immediately snap open. "Can't read, Lix," he mumbles before handing the small scrap of paper to me.

"You have to tell Zoe a secret," I read. Jason blushes, embarrassed that he wasn't able to make sense of the quickly scrawled letters on the page. He leans over, going to whisper in Zoe's ear. I'm on Zoe's other side, so I could technically listen in. I'm too out-of-it to focus my attention, though, so I miss the small exchange. Zoe smirks and looks at me. I find myself suddenly busy, trying to lick my nose.

Amanda squeezes her eyes shut, sending a pleading glance at Amber. She receives no sympathy from her sister, who doesn't even see it. She's engrossed in an animated text conversation with someone. Her fingers look like they're breaking a few speed records.

Russell and Blake come out of the closet. For, like, the ninetieth time, or something, but they come out nonetheless. Blake bursts through the door, shouting, "I'm gay! I'm gay! Sound the alarms; I'm gay!" If Zoe had wanted any other people here, like kids from school, they would take that as a joke. The BTFC can't get out of its denial stage, so they'd think he's pranking them. We all know better, though.

Amanda stands up. She puts her hands on her hips as Blake and Russell sit down on the ground. We all peer up at her, resembling schoolchildren. Sighing, Amanda closes her eyes for a moment. She takes in and releases a deep breath before downing a cup ('glass' sounds too fancy) of beer.

"Yes, Amanda!" Zoe says, clapping, as Amanda takes in an exceptionally large amount of liquid; unfortunately, that sip does not make it to Amanda's esophagus, much less her bloodstream. Amanda chokes. Zoe only giggles like a madwoman, pleased at the reaction she got from nothing more than a cheer. "Ha..."

Russell snorts. "That's for my chicken nugget crying," he intelligently points out. None of us have ever seen Russell with a chicken nugget, so I can only assume that he's making stuff up.

Amanda recovers, actually finishing the cup. "Felix, your turn."

I chew at my lower lip and reach into the hat. "Tickle fight! You tickle whoever the bottle points at." I stare at the slip of paper. "Isn't it 'whomever'?"

"Aren't you supposed to be drunk?" Amber asks. She has a point. I immediately forget that train of thought and spin the bottle. Hey, I just realized where the game's name came from! It's called Spin the Bottle because you spin the bottle! I must be a genius of some kind.

A grin spreads across my face as the bottle slows, pointing at Jason. This is good. Fun, physical contact with him. In a soft way. While we're intoxicated. What could go wrong? His gaze darkens as I stare him down. "Tickle me, coward. Do it." Jason stands up, towering over me as he never has over anyone else.

"It's on, Felix. Try not to throw up." Jason digs his fingers into my sides; I immediately begin dying of laughter. It vaguely occurs to me that there should be a time limit on this. No matter. Jason will know when to stop; I can trust him.

I don't know how long I laugh, rolling around on the floor. But at some point, I find that getting air into my lungs is becoming difficult.

"Ja.... son..." I wheeze, trying to signal that enough is enough. He must not hear me. The fingers pressing into my skin start to hurt as the elated feeling of laughter fades. My vision swims, and, suddenly, a curtain of muffling darkness falls over my eyes.