“There are parties, Tom, and then there’s Lee Hunter’s New Year’s Eve Party.”

Those are the words my brother George had tried to convey to me as he arrived home from his high school, wielding in hand a golden ticket to the Party of Parties.

I had merely rolled my eyes. I can’t pretend I wasn’t angry when I saw that. I really thought I had a good chance of being invited to the party, but I guess I wasn’t that kind of guy.

That was a month ago. Now, on New Year’s Eve, I was pacing back and forth, waiting for my friends to come over.

Barry, Joey, and I couldn’t have cared less about the Lee Hunter Party. We were probably the only seventh graders who really didn’t care that we didn’t get invited. The L.H.P. was meant for rich and athletic kids and we were neither. The first Lee Hunter began the tradition of having a blowout New Year’s Party in 1953 or whatever and he never looked back, leaving three generations of children with inferiority complexes because they’d never been invited to the Party of Parties.

I almost collided head-on in the midst of my pacing with George, who was frantically adjusting his suit, the only one he owned. Our parents were out of town, so George had to dress alone. Big mistake.

“What do you plan on doing with your friends?” George smiled.

“You know,” I shrugged. “Guy stuff.”

“You have fun with that.”

“I will,” I smiled. A honk outside gave notice that George’s ride was here. George jumped in, with a huge smile on his face. With one last wave he was off.

Barry and Joey would be arriving soon. I could hardly wait.

I saw the invitation to the party still on the island counter. I tore it up and threw it into the trash.

“Who needs Lee Hunter?” I said out loud. I guaranteed to myself that my friends and I would have more fun than George that night, even if our party didn’t have a camel or former MLB players or a pool of soda.

The doorbell rang. The guys.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. Barry and Joey had brought backpacks with them. Perfect.

“What did you tell George we were gonna be doing?” Joey asked.

“Guy stuff.”

We all burst out laughing.

“I’m already wearing my bra,” Joanne said, stretching her football jersey to reveal a pink, lacy undergarment.

“Amateur hour!” Bailey proclaimed. “I have a bra and panties.”

“As do I,” I told the girls. Lee Hunter. Please.

I loaned Bailey and Joanne a pair of my panties and we all made our way to the bathroom in our skivvies. Makeover time!

“Bailey, you promised to bring the kit!”

“And I did.” She giggled as she produced a starter makeup set. She took pride in explaining the shades of lipstick.

“Dark red for Taylor, hot pink for Joanne! And plum for me!” Bailey said in a singsongy voice.

Supermodels would be at Lee Hunter’s party, and they still wouldn’t have as much fun as we would.

“What outfits did you bring?” I asked as I pulled jeans and a “Gurlz Rule” top over my undies.

“Don’t tell my sister, but I snuck her favorite pair of yoga pants!” They were a little big, but Joanne had a pair of tights to wear under them, so he could fill them out quite nicely.

Bailey was probably the girliest of all, a frilly pink top with even pinker jeans. We all laughed at our outfits and went to watch the New Year’s special.

We giggled, we sang, we danced, we did our nails, we gossiped, we shaved our legs. I really felt like I had two girlfriends. We belted out song lyrics at the top of our lungs - every boy band cry tune, every pop anthem, everything.

I can guarantee you this - no one at Lee Hunter’s party was accomplishing a dream she’d had ever since she first tried on her mother’s wedding dress at 6 years old. No one. Taylor Hoffman 1, Lee Hunter 0.

The moment of truth came at 11 p.m. when I led Joanne and Bailey upstairs. We approached my closet and I opened it to reveal three beautiful dresses.

“A grey party dress for me, a red gown for Bailey, and a blue formal number for Joanne here. Bought them last month at a thrift store. High quality but dirt cheap.” The girls screamed.

About fifteen minutes til midnight we were sitting in the living room. Bailey was fiddling with her dress, and Joanne was texting. Neither really made a big deal out of the fact that they were wearing dresses - dresses!

I brought up the elephant in the room. “So, girls, are you sad you didn’t get invited to the L.H.P.?”

“No!” Bailey and Joanne screamed in unison.

“I know we’re not being jealous of his party,” Bailey continued, “and I know he five years older than us and all, but that Lee Hunter is CUTE!”

“I know, right?” Joanne added on. “I just want to wrap my arms around him and-”

“Kiss him for so long he has to come up for air? I’d do it!” I said and we all giggled.

“You’ll get your chance, Tom” said a voice. “Lee lost your invitations and suggested I bring y’all over. And don’t change, those are pretty. There’s some lonely-looking thirteen-year old boys for you to be entertained by.”

The silhouette of a disjointed suit that had appeared in the window appeared to spit. “Guy stuff.”