Paige Torn by Erynn Mangum

Author:Erynn Mangum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Navigators

I manage to finish the last home study transcription during the day on Friday. And Candace even manages to get my Starbucks order right. “I wrote it down,” she says, proudly setting the venti caramel macchiato on my desk. “And I’m sorry again.”

I take a sip and nod. “You’re forgiven.”

I reconsider my words as I stuff tax preparation forms and last-minute banquet calls that need to be made into a file folder and clip it with binder clips so I don’t lose anything. Tomorrow is looking like a fun Saturday.

And I don’t even know what to think about tonight. Last I heard from Brittany, who texted me at four thirty, eighteen girls are now coming over to my apartment tonight. Eighteen. I have no idea where they’re going to park, much less sit. I have a used couch I bought at a garage sale four years ago, an overstuffed chair, and four tiny kitchen chairs. And that’s it for furniture.

Another thing, how much pizza do eighteen teenage girls eat? I drive to a local pizza parlor pondering the question. A slice a person? Two? I can usually eat two, but I’m not growing anymore, and I’m also not as concerned about my figure as I was in high school.

Back in my “I’ll just take one slice” days.

I pity past me.

But then again, I’m not in high school where people are constantly judging you by your appearance anymore either. Now, I am in an office with two women who are always on Atkins and always telling me how lucky I am to be naturally thin.

There are outside factors to this not caring as much.

I end up getting three pizzas and drive home with my car smelling strongly of pepperoni and grease. The signs of a good pizza.

I climb the stairs to my apartment and balance the pizzas on one arm while I unlock the door and go inside. I tried to straighten up a little bit before I left this morning just in case I ended up running late getting back home. There wasn’t too much to straighten up.

I haven’t been home enough to make a mess.

I turn the oven on low, shove the pizzas in to stay warm, and go change before the girls start showing up. As much as I like leggings, boots, and sweater dresses, movie-watching attire while lounging on a couch eating pizza they are not.

My doorbell rings at exactly six o’clock. I’ve changed into my faded and nearly-ripped-in-the-back-pocket jeans, socks, and my old college sweatshirt. Three girls are standing on my porch. “Hi, Paige!” They all grin excitedly at me as they come inside. I think two are seniors and one is a sophomore.

By six thirty, the sound in my apartment is reaching decibels it has never reached. Girls are everywhere — giggling, eating, drinking Cokes that one of the girls brought, and oohing over the cookies Mrs. Kleinman made.

That are, in fact, decorated just like the paper lanterns in Tangled. It just makes me laugh when Paris walks in the door with the cookies.

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