" I’m going to a party tonight,” I said, partly just to say it out loud and partly to brag.
Conrad raised his eyebrows. “You?”
“Whose party?” Jeremiah demanded. “Kinsey’s?”
I put down my juice. “How’d you know?”
Jeremiah laughed and wagged his finger at me. “I know everybody in Cousins, Belly. I’m a lifeguard. That’s like being the mayor. Greg Kinsey works at that surf shop over by the mall.”
Frowning, Conrad said, “Doesn’t Greg Kinsey sell crystal meth out of his trunk?”
“What? No. Cam wouldn’t be friends with someone like that,” I said defensively.
“Who’s Cam?” Jeremiah asked me.
“That guy I met at Clay’s bonfire. He asked me to go to this party with him, and I said yes.”
“Sorry. You aren’t going to some meth addict’s party,” Conrad said.
This was the second time Conrad was trying to tell me what to do, and I was sick of it. Who did he think he was? I had to go to this party. I didn’t care if there was crystal meth or not, I was going. “I’m telling you, Cam wouldn’t be friends with someone like that! He’s straight edge.”
Conrad and Jeremiah both snorted. In moments like these, they were a team. “He’s straight edge?” Jeremiah said, trying not to smile. “Neat.”
“Very cool,” agreed Conrad.
I glared at the both of them. First they didn’t want me hanging out with meth addicts, and then being straight edge wasn’t cool either. “He doesn’t do drugs, all right? Which is why I highly doubt he’d be friends with a drug dealer.”
Jeremiah scratched his cheek and said, “You know what, it might be Greg Rosenberg who’s the meth dealer. Greg Kinsey’s pretty cool. He has a pool table. I think I’ll check this party out too.”
“Wait, what?” I was starting to panic.
“I think I’ll go too,” Conrad said. “I like pool.”
I stood up. “You guys can’t come. You weren’t invited.”
Conrad leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. “Don’t worry, Belly. We won’t bother you on your big date.”
“Unless he puts his hands on you.” Jeremiah ground his fist into his hand threateningly, his blue eyes narrow. “Then his ass is grass.”
“This isn’t happening,” I moaned. “You guys, I’m begging you. Don’t come. Please, please don’t come.”
Jeremiah ignored me. “Con, what are you gonna wear?”
“I haven’t thought about it. Maybe my khaki shorts? What are you gonna wear?”
“I hate you guys,” I said. "

― Jenny Han , The Summer I Turned Pretty (Summer, #1)