The Loose Ends List by Carrie Firestone

Author:Carrie Firestone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues / Death & Dying, Juvenile Fiction / Love & Romance, Juvenile Fiction / Family / Multigenerational, Juvenile Fiction / Humorous Stories
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2016-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

Usually Jeb blends into the woodwork and we forget he’s with us. But after half a bottle of wine, he’s in rare form.

“The chicks here are incredible,” he says, trying to drum up enthusiasm from two gay guys and his sister as we wait outside the club.

“What about your girlfriend, Camilla?” I say.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We’re hooking up. Speaking of which, how’s your virginity?”

I ignore him.

Janie runs out of a souvenir shop with a Statue of Christ the Redeemer Christmas ornament. “Look what I got Vito. Don’t you think he’ll love it?”

“Vito will be dead at Christmas,” Jeb says.

Janie stops abruptly. She has the expression of a little kid whose balloon flew out the car window.

“It’s… I got it for his cabin,” she says. The tiny ornament hangs on her finger.

“Why do you have to be a douchebag, Jeb?” I say.

We keep walking, following pulsing music into a club. The bouncer is hesitant to let us in. I don’t know if it’s because we’re too old, too young, not cool enough, or annoying Americans. But he starts talking to Jeb about his tattoos and ends up waving us all in. My brother actually saves the day.

The club is dark, and the dance floor is lit with flashing colored lights. The women are dressed so scantily I can practically see their Brazilian waxes. My family insists on ordering multiple rounds of the elixir of Brazil, so I make my way onto the dance floor alone.

A tall Brazilian guy comes up behind me. I turn around and grind into his firm, muscled torso. What do I care? I’ll never see any of these people again. The E’s would be so proud. Janie finds me on the dance floor. Wes runs out of the DJ booth with a big grin, and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps” comes on. I’m transported to the honky-tonk bar near Aunt Rose’s Charleston house where we spent an entire afternoon last winter break choreographing a routine to this very song.

Janie and I fling off our heels as Uncle Billy and Wes grab us, much to the dismay of my partner, who soon realizes this is a group routine. The floor clears, and people jump in behind us, and within minutes, we manage to teach the entire club our routine.

Jeb two-steps behind me with a cute Brazilian girl while my guy is pulling me to the middle of the dance floor. We dance. We grind. He touches me. I touch him. It feels good. It also feels like I’m cheating on Enzo.

Janie’s chugging yet another caipirinha at the bar while Jeb sucks face with the girl in the corner.

“Janie’s puking.” Wes grabs me.

I look up at my guy. “My friend, blah, blah!” I make the universal puking sound. I think my new friend thinks I’m about to puke because he lets go pretty quickly. I run over to Janie who is vomiting an impressive volume of meat mixed with liquor, sugar, and lime. People clear a wide path as Wes and I push her out the front exit.

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