The Thrashers(2)

“He’s New Helvetia’s point guard,” Matt said excitedly. “I heard he got the hat at Taylor Swift’s Santa Clara concert. He was in VIP with Gigi Hadid.”

“Did you hear that he discovered some old band named KISS and the whole school showed up to spring fling with their faces painted?” the girl asked.

Jodi snorted. She had “discovered” KISS and shared them with Zack, but yes, the face paint thing was real.

She was just about to head off in search of the boy in question when she heard something terrible happening in the next room.

The karaoke speakers blared a familiar voice. “Wanna dedicate this song to Jodi Dillon. ‘Hey Ya!’ is her favorite song of all time.”

She peered around the kitchen corner and glared at the handsome boy with the microphone, grinning at her.

“For you, Jodi,” Zack Thrasher said. And then she had to sit through her best friend drunk-singing her most hated song.

He danced his way to her, drawing a crowd, and at least she got the pleasure of watching the bikini girl’s eyes nearly pop out of her head as Zack Thrasher’s attention rested solely on Jodi.

If she had to guess, he was at least four beers in. Zack was a playful and unpredictable drunk, jumping off roofs into pools, firing up a stranger’s barbeque for a girl who wanted a cheeseburger, or even just spending hours dancing to the worst music in the world.

At the bridge to “Hey Ya!,” Matt was the loudest person to yell “ice cold!” and when Zack asked for the “ladies,” he shoved the mic into Jodi’s face. She responded drily, “Yeah?”

Zack buckled over laughing and passed the microphone off to someone else. He swept Jodi into a hug that pulled her off her feet.

“Where’ve you been?” Zack put her down, pushing his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and smiling down at her with his perfectly straight teeth in that way that made her stomach flutter. “I thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

“I was texting you about a ride,” she said.

“Shit! My phone’s dead already.” Then he suddenly said, “Text Julian!” As if she still needed a ride.

Jodi pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “I did. No response.” Her gaze slid pointedly to the tall, dark-haired print ad model who had joined Zack in the kitchen.

Julian Hollister sipped from his red cup with a calculated gaze. “Hm. Bad reception, I guess.”

Jodi narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could respond, Matt was stumbling forward. “You’re Zack, right?”

“Yeah! Good to meet you.” Zack stuck his hand out. He was one of the only people she knew who shook hands—something his dad had instilled in him.

“I’m Monica,” bikini girl said with a flirtatious smile. She leaned down on the kitchen island, pressing her boobs together, and just like that—Zack and Julian’s attention was firmly away from Jodi. “What brings you to a St. Joseph’s party?” Monica asked.

Jodi rolled her eyes and turned to the sink, deciding to fill the Brita before putting it back. She’d just placed the jug in the fridge when a shadow fell over her shoulder. Without looking up, she knew Julian was gearing up to ruin her night.

“Too good for tap water, Dillon?”

She glowered up all six-foot-two of him. “Like you’ve ever had tap water in your life.”

Julian Hollister was the bane of her existence, to put it politely. Jodi had been friends with Zack Thrasher since second grade—best friends, she even dared to say. But when Zack started focusing on basketball in middle school, he’d met Julian, and they’d been inseparable ever since—no matter how hard Jodi tried to wedge them apart.

Julian’s family had money, like Zack’s. They played the same sports, took the same classes, liked the same kind of humor. But Julian was rough around the edges. He cheated on tests, he cheated on girls, and he didn’t apologize for anything. He was disgustingly attractive, Jodi knew, and aside from his dark hair and water-polo shoulders, he and Zack were evenly matched on looks. She was just happy that his sketchy choices and complete disregard for other people’s comfort hadn’t rubbed off on Zack.

“It’s warm in here.” Zack hooked his thumb toward the sliding glass door. “Should we head outside?”

Matt and Monica were only too happy to go. Jodi shut the fridge door and followed them out.

Unlike Julian, Zack was inclusive, charming, and emotionally attuned. If Jodi was trying to get out of Friday-night plans—like tonight—he’d be the first person to text her outside of the group chat and ask what’s up. When Paige’s junior-year boyfriend was caught cheating, Zack punched him in the middle of the quad, and then went straight to Paige’s house with a vat of rocky road. Zack was … pretty great. Jodi had known him for ten years and been in love with him for a little less than that. But everyone was in love with Zack Thrasher.

The only thing she wished Zack was better at? Not splitting his time and attention in thousands of different directions.

“Is that a Bentley?” His eyes popped out of his head, and he darted to the garage where a couple of guys were smoking pot next to a shiny silver car. Monica eagerly followed, leaving Jodi, Julian, and Matt behind.

Maybe it was selfish of her to want him all to herself, but even times when it was just the two of them at Lucy’s volleyball game, he’d find a way to invite three people to sit with them, making new friends wherever he went. Zack was Jodi’s best friend. But she was only one of Zack’s many best friends.