Midnight has officially passed. Today is my seventeenth birthday. How freaking exciting.
Considering the supply shortages, Elisa did a good job with the party, rounding up a bottle of soda forgotten in the back of her pantry and some of the popcorn her mom stockpiled before the Midwest droughts. No potato chips could be found in the county so she picked up some potatoes and fried them herself. The result is salty, greasy and gone five minutes into the first movie.
We manage to get three in before Elisa’s laptop dies. Since she doesn’t feel like hooking it to the bike-powered charger and pedaling until we can watch another movie, it’s time to find something else to do.
“Quitter,” Greg says. She gives him a punch on the shoulder and he cringes in mock-horror.
“I’ll be right back,” Shawn says and runs up the stairs.
Elisa turns to me. “Bad news, Cassidy. He brought his guitar.”
I force a smile when he comes with the guitar he’s so proud of and starts playing a stupid pop song. Shawn will never play in front of anything but a forgiving—or deaf—audience, but Greg starts making up his own words and we’re all dying at how obscene he manages to make it. It gets bad enough that Shawn has to stop playing, he’s laughing too hard to hit the strings at all.
“Whatever happened to the guy who did that song?” Greg asks.
“He died during the nuclear attack in Boston,” Elisa says.