"I'd say so. We have upwards of thirty... well, hello, primrose!" Your father has turned around. "Made it out of your hole? Or Henry fished you out, I should say. Thanks, Henry."

"Anytime! Should I take over the accompaniment?"

"That'd be wonderful. So, where've you been? You know that your mother and I expect you to make the rounds."

"I was just in the other room," you mumble, as the piano strikes back up.

"In the other room for the whole party? You know almost all of these people, Charlie. They don't bite."

"And you look so pretty in that dress," your mother adds. "I know most of the guests aren't your age, but they do have sons your age, so it's in your interest to—"

But you have somebody already. Do you have somebody already? "Mother," you mutter, "you have to stop—"

"It's not her fault you're so highly eligible. Or, well, it is..." Your father nudges your mother, who bats his shoulder. "...but she's already gotten it taken care of! Would a drink make it easier on you?"

"Martin!" your mother says. "She's—"

"She's 23! She's all grown up. Ruby doesn't have to hear a thing. Primrose, I know you have a sensitive palate, but they dump so much syrup in some of these things that you really can't taste—"

"I drink," you say defensively. "And I... um... Mother?"

"You don't have to listen to your father, sweetheart."

"No. Um." Something is really eating at you. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Your father chuckles. "At 8:30? I know you want us to wrap this up, but you're just going to stick it out. Make the rounds, then say hello to Claudia, if you must escape. She's around here somewhere."

"Outside," Henry says over his shoulder.

Your mother covers her mouth. "If that girl is ripping out my flowerbed, I swear to God, I'll—"

"I'm sure she's supervised, Clara. I mean, I hope she's supervised. The amount of trouble she... hold on. What's the matter, primrose? Are you feeling well? We can plant new flowers, I promise."

The feeling is worsening. Maybe you do need a drink. "No, it's... I don't... is this real?"

Your parents exchange glances. "Seems pretty real to me," your father says eventually. "Put it like this. Is there some reason it wouldn't be?"

"I don't know." You wish you had a drink, sugary or otherwise. "Um, I just— I don't think I'm supposed to be happy. Or something. I'm supposed to be suffering all the time, because it ends up for the best, and it's good for— I don't know. I don't remember."

"Sweetheart!" your mother says. "Have you been spending time with Claudia? Because I know for a fact that I raised you to always—"

"Always look on the bright side. I know. I just don't feel very well. That's why I was in the other room, and... um... I think I'm going to check on Claudia, actually. I don't want her to wreck anything."

"You can take a lie-down, Charlie. If we'd known you weren't—"

"No, it's okay. I'll be back in soon. I'm just going to... um... have a nice party. Bye."

(3/4)