―Oscar Wilde hen I arrived at Kyle’s, the only light in the living room emanated from a few lava lamps and black light sets around the room. The band already played loudly. I headed to the back corner where a folding table served as a makeshift all-you-can-eat junk food buffet. All ten of the extra large pizza boxes were empty. “The early bird gets the worm,” Tammy said, appearing beside me with a plate of brownies. “Want one? They’re fresh outta the oven.” I eyed the brownies suspiciously. I couldn’t picture Tammy in the kitchen wearing an apron Betty Crocker style. Up until a few months ago, I thought she was rich enough to have maids waiting on her hand and foot. “Um, yeah, if they’re regular brownies.” She loaded one onto a monkey-themed paper plate, then handed it to me. “Like, if you’re insinuating what I think you are, then don’t even. I only smoke cigarettes. I wouldn’t do anything to get fired from my spot as head cheerleader.”
