It had been the worst party of her life, because it was supposed to be a birthday party, but it was really a farewell party, and all the presents were good-byes. The music was as loud as ever, and everybody danced and shouted and ate chips and cookies the way they always did. She and Bridget ate most of the carrot and red- and green-pepper sticks to make her mother happy. Annabelle’s mom insisted there be good-for-you munchies at her daughter’s parties, but Bridget was usually on a diet and really appreciated them, and Annabelle had developed a taste for pepper sticks on potato chips, like a kind of misguided taco. But nothing tasted good that night. It wasn’t the same and everybody knew it. Polly burst into tears when she left, and then all the girls started crying, and the boys stood around looking awkward and patting their girls’ shoulders in that way boys have when they want to look as if they’re being sympathetic but what they really want is for you to stop whatever it is you’re doing, like crying, or having a serious conversation.
