“You’re looking at it,” she said. “I’m going as an outcast. I told you.”
“No, seriously.”
“No, seriously. What are you wearing? Do you want to borrow my costume from last year? I was a cheerleader.”
I couldn’t picture Roux cheering for anything. “Does it involve a crazy push-up bra or something?”
“Of course. Why else would you wear a cheerleader costume if your boobs aren’t going to look good?” She glanced into the classroom to see if anyone was in there yet. They weren’t, of course. We were all standing just outside, waiting for the final bell. I learned on my first day that only the nerdiest of nerds went into class before the bell.
“Oh, dear Jesus,” Roux said, turning back to me, “please tell me you’re not going as, like, a pioneer girl or an extra from Little House on the Prairie.”
“No, no, I’m allergic to calico.” She didn’t get the joke, so I moved on. “Anyway, I already told Jesse Oliver—”
“Why do you always say that? I know who you’re talking about if you just say ‘Jesse.’”
“I don’t know, it’s weird! I can’t help it. Anyway, I told Jesse Ol—I told him that I was going as a spy.”
“Oooh, sexy.” Roux wiggled her eyebrows at me. “A catsuit for sure.”
“It’s entirely too impractical,” I replied without thinking.
“What?”
“It’s entirely too uncomfortable. So now I don’t know what to wear.”
“Well, sister friend, you’re on your own. Get a fedora or a trench coat—a sexy trench coat—or something like that. Best of luck.” She patted me on the shoulder and strolled down the hall to class while I stood there and tried to figure out what a sexy trench coat would even look like.
Finally, that night, I managed to pull together a costume. I put on black jeans and a black turtleneck, then found a Burberry trench coat in the back of my closet that could only have come from Angelo. I wasn’t sure if it was sexy, but the label would probably count for something. I added a pair of binoculars around my neck and some dark sunglasses, then added a fedora that I found at a thrift shop on Crosby Street.
It wasn’t a belly-dancing costume, but it was better than nothing.
My parents were in the kitchen when I came out, blueprints of floor plans opened on the table in front of them. “Oh, good, you’re here,” my mom said. “This is the Olivers’ house. Here, look.”
I glanced down at the mess of lines and numbers. Even on paper, the house looked huge, four stories with wide staircases linking them together. “Wowsa,” I said. “Nice digs. How come we never get to stay in places like this? I want a mansion next time we move.”
My parents ignored me. “We think this is his bedroom here,” my dad said, pointing toward a space on the fourth floor. “There’s a cutout in the wall—are you looking? You’re not looking.”
“I’m looking, I’m looking. Cutout at the end of the hall in the room on the left. Got it.” My fedora was starting to make my head itch.
My mom was tracing an exit path with her finger. “There’s a balcony off the second floor. If you get stuck, go out here and signal for Angelo.”
“What?” I cried. “No! No way! I don’t need a chaperone! I’ve never had one before!”
“Yes, but this is your first party and there’s no adult supervision and—”
“No, no, no, no. And frankly, I’m insulted.” I crossed my arms over my chest, but the trench coat was a bit tight so I dropped them back down to my sides. “If I get stuck, I’ll do what I always do, which is get myself unstuck. Remember when we were in Buenos Aires and that one guy broke into the hotel room? I got out of that situation just fine.”
“Yes, and it took ten years off my life.” My mother sighed. She doesn’t like to talk about Buenos Aires. Things got a little wonky during that assignment. Mixed signals and such. Occupational hazard; it happens.
“I’ll be fine. The worst that can happen is that someone gets drunk and pukes on me. Which would be terrible,” I added, “but not dangerous.”
“Well, Armand is in Los Angeles on business—”
“Lucky duck,” I said. “When do we get to go back to LA?”
“Maggie, honey, please focus,” my dad said. “Armand’s in Los Angeles, but there are probably a few housekeepers, butlers—”
“Do you think they have a butler named Jeeves?”
“Maggie.”
“Sorry, okay, focusing.” I tend to get a rush of adrenaline before going into an assignment, and now that there was my first official high school party on top of everything else, it sort of felt like my veins and arteries were exploding.
“Do you see this?” my mother said, pointing to what looked like a long hallway. “This is an elevator.” She looked up and glared at me. “You do not use it. You do not even think about getting into it.”
“Fine, fine, okay. No elevators. I’m a Luddite tonight.”
My dad was about to say something else, but then he stopped and frowned. “What’s your costume supposed to be?”
“Is that a Burberry trench coat?” my mom asked. “I told Angelo, no designer labels.”
“Yes, and I’m going as a spy. It’s a long story, but don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”