As her brown two-story house—with a light left on upstairs to fool someone into thinking we were there—came into view, my anxiety seemed to intensify. We turned into her driveway and my eyes became glued to her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Janis’ red front door. I was worrying that she’d come barging out shaking her finger and yelling that she would be calling Missy’s parents first thing in the morning to tell them about our drunken escapades with boys in the middle of the night. This didn’t happen, of course. The entire neighborhood was sound asleep, except the crickets and katydids, so no one was awake to witness Missy’s post-party, after-hours drunken entrance. Derek shifted into park, but didn’t cut the engine. My eyes flickered to the rearview mirror and met his dead on once again. “Well, looks like Kyle passed out, too,” he chuckled. I continued playing with the string on my shorts and flashed him a smile.
