Page 4 of Lonely Hearts Day

“We are,” he assured me. I gave him a sideways glance because I knew Jack and I could tell he was mainly doing this to support me. I was okay with that motivation. We did a lot of things that way—me supporting him or vice versa. He’d be fully on board by the end of the night.

“Channel the feelings you had while listening to bad poetry today.” I added red food coloring to the frosting.

“That will help.” He held up his grocery bag. “I brought stuff to make a veggie tray. Should I make a sign?”

“What would it say?”

He thought for a moment then said, “Eat veggies because love does nothing for your heart health?”

“Yeeesss! Write that.”

The garage door opened and my mom came in, her keys in one hand, a chai latte in the other. She paused, taking in the scene. “What is happening and why do you need a hundred cookies?”

“It’s not a hundred.” It was like fifty. “We’re throwing a party.”

“You two are throwing a party? Here?” It wasn’t that I’d never thrown a party before... well, actually, it was that. But I’d had plenty of friends over throughout the years.

“Is that okay?” I said. “I probably should’ve asked.”

“How many people are coming to this party?” Her eyes were on the stacks of unfrosted cookies again.

“Just our friends. I invited five. How many did you invite?” I asked Jack.

“About the same.”

“Probably only ten then,” I said. But maybe not even that.

“And it’s taking place in the basement?” Once my sisters were in school, my parents had turned the basement, which used to be a playroom, into something a wider audience could enjoy. Gone was the ball pit and slide I’d only ever heard stories about. My dad had replaced them with a couple of pinball machines and a pool table that turned into a board game table when fitted with its long wooden topper. There was a large television. There was even a kitchenette.

“Wait.” Something suddenly occurred to me. “Areyouhaving a Valentine’s Day party here withyourfriends?”

“No, we’re not. We’ll be going out to dinner, though. Are the other parents okay with an adult-free party?”

“We’ll limit people to one alcoholic beverage a piece,” I said.

“Funny,” she said.

“Should I give your speech at the beginning of the party?” I asked.

“What’s my speech?” she returned.

“You know, the one about how youth is for having fun and how it’s hard to figure out who you are and what you want when you’re trying to impress someone else.” Maybe it was nerdy to like my parents and value their advice, but I really did.

She nodded. “Oh, that’s a good one. You can also include the ‘push yourself to try things out of your comfort zone’ part.”

“Like throwing a party?” I asked.

She smiled. “Like that. Have fun tonight.” She continued her walk through the kitchen. Before she reached the living room, she turned back. “Oh, there’s a cake pop on the center console of my car that I meant to bring in. If either of you want it, you can have it.”

Jack and I locked eyes then we both raced for the garage. He opened the door first but I shoved him into the frame and squeezed by him. I reached the car first but when I grabbed hold of the handle, he snaked an arm around my waist, twirled me around and deposited me behind him. I squealed but continued to try to wiggle into the open door that he was now blocking with his body.

“There’s cookies inside,” I said.

“Exactly. There are cookies inside.” His entire torso was in the car now and my head was smashed between his hip and the car door in my attempt to get inside. I could tell he was reaching for the treat, and I tried but failed to grab his arm.

“You are the biggest brat,” I said when I heard him take a bite.

“No,” he said through his mouthful, “I’m going to share.”