Love and Other Alien Experiences by Kerry Winfrey

Author:Kerry Winfrey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

STILL CRADLING ARTHUR, I speed walk to the small table in the corner of the kitchen and squeeze under it. Trying to tune out the party only makes the laughter, barking, and occasional shouting louder, like a slow explosion. I wonder if Brad’s here, and the thought kind of makes me want to smile and puke at the same time. I definitely don’t want him to see me all anxious and panicked about the million and one classmates in my house.

And, I realize, I really don’t want anyone to go in my room, where I have my computer open to We Are Not Alone and the collage of all my favorite movie stars and TV shows on my wall. It’s hard enough feeling like I’m totally different from my classmates; I definitely don’t want to explain why I find David Duchovny more attractive than Channing Tatum.

I close my eyes and pull Arthur closer. He snuggles into my chest.

“Knock, knock,” Lincoln says, lifting up a corner of the tablecloth.

“Is Scott with you?” I ask. My eyes are squeezed shut.

“He went to go help out. He can get along with anybody, so he doesn’t mind.”

With Linc here, my heart rate slows and the noise becomes a little less unbearable. “So … boyfriend, huh?”

“Nice try. We’re talking about you right now.”

“I’m only under the table because I care about Arthur’s well-being. I don’t want him to be scarred for life because of a traumatic socializing experience!”

“That’s so kind of you, Mal, but why don’t you just try to come out. No one’s making you leave the house, okay? Just get up, say hi to a few people, and then go hang out in your room for the rest of the day like you always do.”

“I don’t always hang out in my room.”

“Oh, my apologies … like you do ninety percent of the time.”

I’m about to counter with another argument when my mother’s voice carries over the sound of the crowd. “Look at this … party!” she says. I can tell by the measured quality of her voice that she’s internally surveying the damage that muddy paws and sneakers have done to our carpet. “I’m so happy—I mean, Mallory is so happy to help out with the fund-raiser!”

The desire to stay comfortable and the desire to prove that I’m “better” battle it out in my head. Hanging out underneath the kitchen table isn’t going to do anything to convince my mom that I’m feeling okay—in fact, it will probably do the opposite. Socially well-adjusted people, as a rule, do not spend parties under tables.

“I am safe. I am secure. I am capable,” I mutter.

“What?” Lincoln asks.

I give Arthur one last snuggle before handing him off to Lincoln. There’s no reason he should suffer just because I have to prove a point.

I scoot out from under the table and right into the wall of people in my house. Holding my breath, I weave through the crowd, giving curt nods and the occasional “hihowareyou.” I just have to make it to the stairs.

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