The taxi's tires hissed on the damp asphalt as it slowed to a stop in front of Kathie's bungalow house. The place looked warm from the outside—light spilling from the front windows, casting golden rectangles onto the front porch. The faint thump of bass could be heard even from the curb, though it was probably just the stereo in the living room, not the party.
Marin lingered a second in the backseat, her hand hovering over the door handle, feeling that familiar coil of hesitation in her stomach. She guessed all the girls were already inside. She could imagine their heads turning when she walked in, that quick mental measuring people did. She told herself she wouldn't care, that it didn't matter, but her palms were already damp.
She paid the driver, stepped out into the cool night air, and walked briskly up the short concrete path. Her sneakers padded over scattered gravel along the edges, and her breath made little clouds in the dim glow of the porch light.
She pressed the doorbell.
Footsteps came quickly from the other side, light but brisk, and the door swung open to reveal a girl with olive-toned skin and dark, glossy waves of hair that framed her face perfectly—effortlessly styled, like she'd just stepped out of a magazine. Her brown eyes flicked up and down Marin in one quick sweep.
It was Kendra.
Her gaze wasn't hostile, exactly, but Marin could tell it was taking notes.
"You made it," Kendra said after a beat, her voice warm enough to pass as friendly. Then she stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come in."
The warmth hit Marin immediately as she stepped into the house. It smelled faintly of candy and vanilla perfume, the kind of mix that clung to clothes long after you left. She took in the living room: the soft beige carpet, the couch draped with a patterned throw blanket, a coffee table with a neat stack of glossy teen magazines and an ashtray shaped like a seashell—probably decorative, though Marin couldn't be sure.
She moved toward the couch and sat down with her knees pressed tightly together, her hands folded in her lap.
Kendra closed the door and leaned against it for a second, still watching Marin with a kind of curious tilt to her head. The expression wasn't quite distrust—more like she was studying a rare sighting, something she hadn't expected.
Marin caught it instantly. They hadn't thought she would come. That much was obvious. In fact, they probably hadn't even bothered to picture her here at all.
A strange satisfaction flickered through her chest. Maybe that was good.
The sound of footsteps came from upstairs. Two girls descended together, their voices hushed until they spotted her. The surprise on their faces was brief but telling—eyebrows raised, an almost imperceptible widening of the eyes.
Marin recognized them instantly from school. She had seen them many times flanking Kendra in the hallway and during field practice, part of that easy, laughing knot of girls in the cheer team . She had never spoken to them directly.
The taller one, with glossy black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, whispered something to the shorter one with chin-length bob. They both offered small smiles, polite but measured.
Then came Kathie.
The clatter of her footsteps on the stairs was uneven, rushed. She was half-bent over, trying to jam a shoe into her left foot while hopping on the other foot. A cascade of blonde hair swung around her face, and the strap of her bag kept sliding off her shoulder. She didn't look like she was late because of carelessness—more like she was always, inevitably, behind.
She stopped dead halfway down the stairs when she saw Marin.
For two seconds, her face went blank with genuine surprise, and then her whole expression broke into a wide, gummy smile.
"Well, look at you," Kathie said, recovering her balance and trotting the rest of the way down. "Didn't think you'd make it."
Marin let a faint smirk touch her lips. "Surprise, surprise."
Kathie laughed, slinging her bag more securely over her shoulder as she passed.
"You look great." She added.
The compliment caught Marin off guard. She blinked, then gave a small, shy nod. "Thanks. So do you." Her voice was quieter than she intended.
But inside, she was less at ease than she looked.
The other girls' outfits were far bolder and skin revealing—short skirts, thin strapped tops, plunging necklines—every look curated to flash skin and confidence in equal measure. Glitter caught the light on their collarbones and shoulders. Marin, in her more conservative outfit, suddenly felt like she'd missed a memo. If the party was going to be like this—crowded with girls dressed like that—she could already imagine the awkwardness, the quiet distance between her and the rest. She wouldn't fit in.
Kathie clapped her hands once. "Alright, let's roll."
Minutes later, they were filing out to the driveway. The night air was cooler now, and the sky was a deep indigo, the kind that made the streetlights glow in soft halos.
Marin slid into the backseat first. The car's interior smelled faintly of old leather and something sharper—like the remnants of someone's perfume from earlier in the day.
The girl with the short bob followed, the movement of her short, sleek hair brushing against her jaw as she ducked in. She slid into the middle seat beside Marin, her bag brushing Marin's arm. A sharp, heavy cologne clung to her so strongly that Marin's nose immediately prickled. It wasn't unpleasant—just overwhelming, the kind of scent that made you taste it at the back of your throat.
The last of the three cheer girls climbed in, taking the far seat. She was the only one who seemed content to quietly scroll on her little flip phone, the clicking of its buttons sounding unusually loud in the enclosed space.
Kendra claimed the passenger seat, still fiddling with her shoe strap.
Kathie settled into the driver's seat, flipping her hair over one shoulder before starting the ignition. The low rumble of the engine filled the silence, and the radio crackled faintly before it settled on a pop station—the kind that played the same ten songs on rotation.
As the car rolled down the street, the girls in the back exchanged glances that Marin caught in her peripheral vision. Not hostile—just curious.
It was the kind of curiosity that made Marin feel both invisible and conspicuous at the same time.