I clapped a hand over my mouth to prevent more giggles...

Panic!

“Lee’s here,” I murmured, but Mom had me by the elbow and didn’t let go.

Scandalously, to my mind, she pulled me to the side of the arch leading to the front room. “Let’s listen to see what he says to Jordan.” She whispered directly into my ear.

Which tickled! I suppressed a laugh, and of course, that came out as a giggle.

I’m dying, I thought. Or maybe just hyperventilating. I tried to hold my breath, but Mom, excited by hearing Lee ask, “Where’s Pete?” elbowed me in the ribs, provoking another giggle.

“Be quiet,” she warned. “He’ll hear us!”

I clapped a hand over my mouth to prevent more giggles, listening to Jordan stall.

“Pete’s embarrassed to come out right now,” Jordan announced. “There were gatecrashers at Joanna’s party last night and Pete picked up a shiner defenestrating them.”

“Ouch,” said Molly. “Now they can’t make puppies?”

I heard Jordan and Lee move around the living room while they laughed at Molly’s question. Lee tried to explain, “Defenestrate is to throw something out the window, but I’m sure Pete used a door.”

Speaking of a door, my eyes went to a potential escape route out the side door of the kitchen, but Mom clenched my arm and whispered, “Stay here,” before moving toward the kitchen counter.

I felt like my blocker had tripped and fallen right in front of me. That happened once, last year, when I played on the varsity squad in our homecoming game. I had felt a surge of fear, then exhilaration, when I decided to leap over poor Rudy Bartolo and run for the endzone.

Across the kitchen, Mom rummaged in her purse. I wasn’t at all feeling the thrill of a game. This time, with no goalline in sight, I stayed where I was, listening.

Lee’s voice sounded worried. “Is Pete all right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jordan said dismissively. “Joanna put some foundation on it. You can hardly tell.”

Oh, crap! Lee’s going to know I’m wearing makeup! I looked at the floor. I wanted to kick something – but no Rudy Bartolo. I had very nearly kicked him last year before deciding to jump.

Now it was Jordan I wanted to kick, except Mom was motioning me to come toward her, and since she was beside the escape hatch, I hurried over—but quietly.

I reached for the door handle, but too late – she already had hold of my arm again. “Hold still, and look up.” she ordered me.

Startled, I did both, and she waved something quickly in front of my eyes. Then she opened the side door and pushed me through it. “Go out and come back in from the back hall,” she said. “And take this.”

I was out the door and sprinting toward the back of the house before I looked at what was in my hand. A tube of…mascara…?

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