Page 29 of Such Sharp Teeth

“We definitely haven’t been here for an hour.”

“Listen, I made you a plate but then I ate it. Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” I say. I grab a mummy hot dog from the nearest platter and wash it down with my bourbon.

“Let’s go outside,” Scarlett says. “Ash told all of her mom friends that I’m pregnant and now they’re all coming up to me with advice.”

I escort her outside, where Seth is no longer tending bar. I pour myself another spot of the Jim Beam Apple.

“Pace yourself,” Scarlett says.

I clutch my imaginary pearls. “You’d shame your own sister?”

“I support you in all your endeavors,” she says. “But I can’t carry you home if you get blitzed.”

“I’m fine,” I say.

And it’s true. I’ve already had a fair amount to drink, and I’m not even buzzed.

I look over Scarlett’s shoulder to the pirate couple, who appear to still be fighting. Scarlett follows my gaze to them, then looks back at me.

“Eeks,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I say, screwing the cap back on the Beam. “So you want to hang out here, or . . . ?”

“Let’s just say hi to Ash and head home.”

“You want to leave?”

“You don’t?”

“We just got here,” I say. “We should stay a little longer.”

“Oh. Ian,” she says. “Is he here yet?”

“Yeah. I saw him. We kissed.”

“What? When?”

“Like five minutes ago. On the swing set.”

I anticipate a big reaction. Girlish squeals and poking and teasing and swooning. What I get is something far more restrained. Barely a smile. It’s a sort of distant, misty-eyed look.

“You’ve been losing your mind over me and Ian, and now something actually happens, and you look fully unenthused.”

She’s flustered. She’s doing these odd little sighs, opening and closing her mouth like a day-old goldfish. Her shoulders twitch.

“What?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m emotional.”

She’s crying. Actually crying.

“Scarlett?”

“It’s not me!” she says. “I’m not crying.”

“Sure,” I say, snatching a cocktail napkin for her to use as a tissue.