My weekend is going to be so boring. Usually I'll have a sleepover with Gina least one night each weekend, usually tonight so that we can unwind after a long school week. We'd order a pizza (I let myself eat dairy when hanging out with friends) and watch a movie or binge a TV show. I swear we've watched the first two seasons of A Call from Midnight at least twenty times. But tonight, I'm on my own. Mom was a little concerned when I told her I didn't have any plans on a Friday night, but I've been watching Netflix on my phone, so... it's all good.

Despite my earbuds, I hear a knock at my door. "Come in," I say.

Mom walks in, her brows raised. "You don't have any plans with Thatcher or your new theater friends tonight?"

"Nope."

She sits on the edge of my bed, so I pause A Call from Midnight and take out my earbuds.

"I know you're upset about Gina, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm proud of you for distancing yourself from her. I think you should try to work on your relationships with these new kids. They seem supportive."

"They are."

"So, I was thinking... what if I make some dip, order some dairy pizza and breadsticks? Hang out upstairs while you have some friends over to hang out? You can watch whatever you were watching on your phone downstairs."

I can't help my let a grin spread over my lips. "Really?"

She nods. "I'm proud of you for many reasons. I want to show you."

"You do know that two of my new theater friends are boys, right?"

"Thatcher's one of them, though. I trust him. He's been a good influence on you, and after seeing where he comes from, I think you might be a good influence on him too."

"If you're serious, I'll invite them over."

"I am. Go ahead. What kind of pizza should I order?" she asks as she gets up to go.

"Just cheese is fine. Thanks, Mom."

"Sure. Let me know who's coming when you hear from them."

I open up messenger and send them all a group message. It reads, "My mom is the coolest all of the sudden and suggested I invite you guys over tonight. She's ordering pizza and making dip. She makes a killer guac. We can hang out at watch TV."

I wait nervously as I watch each of their profile pictures appear, letting me know they've read the message.

Thatcher Gorsky: I'm in. Super bored here. What time? (5:23pm)

Janie Myers: Let's say 6? (5:23pm)

Thatcher Gorsky: Awesome, see you then! For everyone involved, believe Janie when she says her mom's cooking is good. (5:24pm)

Timothy Boone: Yeah, dude, I'm down for any shindig where guac is involved. What's the address? (5:25pm)

Janie Myers: 154 Walnut (5:25pm)

Timothy Boone: Ah, in the historic nut neighborhood of Riverside. Love the vibe over there. See you at 6. (5:26pm)

Patti Weiner: Yay! Misfits unite! I can't wait! See you then! (5:27pm)

I take a deep breath. Thatcher, Moth, and Patti will be at my house to hang out in about half an hour. I can't wait.

Thirty minutes, a new outfit, and some fresh makeup later, my first guest arrives. I race down the stairs. "I'll get it," I call.

It's probably Thatcher, since he lives so close by. But when I swing the door open, to my dismay, I see that the first guest is Moth. I mean, he did have my back when Gina was laughing at me during the scene, and Thatcher did say he's a good person. I should give him a chance.

He smiles and his dimples appear on either side of his full lips. By no means do I like Moth, but I really can't get over how physically attractive he is. His sandy brown hair is pulled back into a bun, away from his perfectly square jaw and out of his crazy ocean blue eyes. He's wearing a ratty old grey sweater, but it somehow matches his frayed jeans perfectly.

His attractiveness is honestly a little jarring, because he's not popular and not recognized for his looks; and now he's standing in my doorway. Plus, Patti likes him. His life just doesn't seem to fit his outward appearance. I wonder if there's more to that idea that Thatcher knows, but that I don't know yet.

"Hey," he says, stretching his arm out to present me with a card. "I got you a birthday card."

I can't help but smile. "Moth, it's not my birthday."

"What? What is it then?"

I shrug. "Friday? We are just hanging out."

"Well." He laughs at himself. "I guess, here's a card anyway, dude. There's five bucks in there, so I don't know, put it towards the pizza," he says.

I want so badly to be annoyed by him, but the gesture is sweet. I laugh with him. "Thanks Moth," I say, taking the card.

"Who is this?" my mom asks in her sweetest tone. She comes to the door and reaches out her hand to shake his.

Moth's entire demeanor shifts. No longer is he carefree stoner-type. His posture becomes perfectly straight, and he looks my mom straight in her eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand.

"My name is Timothy Boone, but my friend's call me Moth. I am in the same theater group as Janie."

Even his tone is completely different. It's like he's interviewing for a job or something.

"Thank you so much for having me over, Ms...," he trails off, waiting for her to tell him her last name. Smooth move. He must be used to meeting parents.

"Ms. Collins," she answers with her maiden name. "But, please, you can call me Tess."

Wow, okay, Mom.

"Thank you so much for having me over, Tess," Moth says, laying it on thick.

"It's no problem at all. The pizza should be here in the next twenty minutes or so, but I have some guacamole and bean dip on the dining room table. The only rule here is no going upstairs into Janie's room. Especially not boys. I'm sure you can understand why I would have that rule."

He puts his hands up as he steps further into our house. I close the door behind him. "I completely understand."

"Okay, thanks Mom," I say. "Where can he put his coat?"

"Oh, right, how about right there on the coat rack? Unless you want to just leave it on a dining chair. It's up to you, Timothy."

He starts to take off his coat. "The coat rack is perfect, thank you."

Mom nods and heads back into the kitchen.

I gently slap his stomach. "Who was that?" I whisper.

He smiles. "I am really good with parents. Like, it's kind of my thing." His voice is back to normal now, and I crack a smile at how comfortable I suddenly feel around him. He's good with people in general, it seems.

"Let's get at that guac," he says, biting his tongue between his lips.

I chuckle. "Yeah, okay, come on."

I walk him into the dining room, which is really just back to the right, through a partially closed off wall from the living room. My mom's set out the dips and a bowl of tortilla chips in a few bowls next to a stack of four plates for when the pizza comes.

Moth dives for a chip and in one smooth motion, scoops some guacamole on top. It flies into his mouth with a loud crunch. "Mm," he hums. "Delish. Now that's the real deal. Killer guac, Tess, you're a master," he says, loudly enough for my mom to hear in the next room over.

She laughs. "Thank you, Timothy."

I take a chip and load it with some bean dip, my personal favorite of my mom's dips, and examine Moth as he scoops guac onto another couple of chips. He's so weird to me: a person who seems to truly not have a care in the world for what anyone else thinks and just wants to have a good time? How is that even possible? 

"What?" Moth asks, his mouth full of green guac. It's so gross to see, and I laugh. He chews with his mouth wide open for a few exaggerated chomps. "What is so funny?"

"Gross, stop," I laugh.

He closes his mouth and his lips move into a sneaky smile before he swallows and says, "This guac is seriously good, dude. Wait, sorry, you don't like that."

"Do you say that to everyone? Like, is everyone dude to you?"

He nods and gives me a slight shrug. "It's a habit I should probably stop."

"It's fine. I don't mind it that much. I just thought you were being rude at first."

"Exactly why I should stop doing it," he says, swooping another loaded chip into his mouth. He chews and chews until he can swallow, and then continues, "This guac is seriously good, Janie."

"I'll pass the endless compliments onto the chef."

"Please do. The world needs to know."

The doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," I call again. Excitement swells in my chest, but the disappointment I felt when I realized that I would be entertaining Moth on his own first has completely faded. I wouldn't mind actually being his friend.

I think back to how he got his nickname—like a moth to a flame—and even that seems so strange to me now. Moth is, himself, a beam of light.

"I'll keep watch over this guac," Moth says as I make my way to the door.

I spin around. "Save some for Patti and Thatcher," I say, pointing at him.

"Yeah, okay."

I turn back around and open the door. This time it is Thatcher.

"Am I the first one?" he asks with a wide smile.

"Moth beat you."

"What?" He steps into my house—he's already familiar with the drill—and hangs his coat up on the rack.

"Hi Thatcher," Mom calls from the kitchen, where she's finishing up some lemonade.

"Hi Mrs. Myers."

"Dude," Moth says, "her name is Ms. Collins."

Thatcher's face goes white. "Really?" he whispers to me.

"Yeah, sorry. She's used to being called Mrs. Myers," I say.

Thatcher changes his course from the dining room to the kitchen. "I am so sorry I've been calling you by the wrong name, Ms. Collins."

My mom waves it away. "Don't worry about it, Thatcher. You can call me Tess." She leans back to look at me through the doorway from the kitchen to the foyer area. "Where have these friends been, Janie? They are so polite. You boys are welcome any time."

"Yeah, speaking of polite," Moth starts. I move to join him in the dining room through the living room and Thatcher meets us through the kitchen entrance. "What was up with that Gina girl when you guys did your scene? That was messed up."

Thatcher turns to me to answer.

"Don't worry about her, I'm done with her," I say.

"Got it," Moth says, "say no more." He scoops another chip with guac into his mouth. "Yo, Thatch, try this guac, dude."

Thatcher leans forward and tries some. "That's good."

I try to forget the awkwardness of Thatcher realizing my mom's name was different and of Moth bringing up Gina, and I lean forward to get some of the bean dip. "Try this one, though."

The boys both scoop some onto a chip and try it.

"Yo," Moth says. "That's unreal."

"Mm, I like that one too."

I smile sneakily.

"What is that smile about?" Thatcher asks.

"The secret ingredient... is eggplant."

"No way, no it isn't," Moth says.

I nod. "Yep, it adds to the creaminess of the beans. It's just pinto beans, roasted eggplant, roasted red pepper, and garlic."

Moth stands up straight again to address my mom in the kitchen. "Tess, you have me eating eggplant in here too? You are a genius at nutrition."

Mom laughs. "Thank you again, Timothy."

The doorbell rings, and this time it's the pizza. The boys and I sit at the table to eat, but I was always taught not to eat until everyone was seated. It seems like Moth might have been taught that too, because he squirms a bit in his seat as he stares at the cheese pizza looking up at him. Thatcher takes a bite, but seems to quickly realize no one else is eating yet and sets his slice down. Moth pulls out his cellphone.

"I'll shoot her a quick text," he says.

Thatcher and my phones buzz after he sends it through our message thread. "Hey dude, what's your eta?" it asks.

Pretty shortly after it's delivered, the three little dots appear on the screen, and not long after we read, "Sorry, I'll be a bit late."

"Mind if we start on the pizza?" Moth asks.

Thatcher and I both look up at him, and he shrugs. "What? I'm hungry."

"You just ate, like, half of the guac," I say.

Moth shrugs again. "I'm a growing boy."

He's such a stoner, I think. I've heard about the munchies, but jeez, I never thought they were this... real. I'd make a comment about it if I weren't so keenly aware that Mom's still in the kitchen. I can see her arm lifting a slice of pizza from her plate. All her good feelings about Moth would be completely obliterated if she knew what I knew. She's even more zero-tolerance than I am.

Patti replies: "Nope, go ahead. I'll be another thirty minutes or so."

Moth doesn't waste a moment between reading and stuffing the pizza in his mouth. "Thanks for getting us pizza, Tess," he says after swallowing his last bite.

Mom appears in the doorway. "Do they feed you at your house?" she asks Moth.

"Oh yes, but I'm a growing boy."

Mom chuckles. "Hold on, where's your other friend?"

"She'll be another thirty minutes," I say.

"Oh, okay. Janie, can you help me in the kitchen quick?"

She's so obvious, it's embarrassing. Clearly, she needs to talk to me in private, I just hope it's nothing too bad. I stand from the table and join her in the kitchen.

Continue reading in the next part...