Lucky Caller(39)

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“Guys,” Sasha said when Jamie dropped down into his seat in radio class on Friday. “It’s not working.”

“What?”

“The statement isn’t working. The Deadnoughts won’t buy it.”

“How can they not buy it?” Joydeep said.

“They’re saying it’s misdirection. Apparently Tyler Bright used to cancel shit all the time back in the day and then show up at the last minute. They think that’s what’s happening. Like it’s some conspiracy or something. Honestly, you should read some of the stuff they’re saying.”

“Fine,” Joydeep said. “Fuck the mystique. Let’s just tell them it’s Nina’s dad.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jamie said. “What do you guys think?”

“Let’s do it.” Sasha looked at me expectantly.

I looked away.

“Well…” A pause. “So the thing is…”

During our Sunday call, my dad had mentioned his trip to town for Sidney’s show. And I could have brought it up then. I could have easily asked in that moment—or any number of moments before then, to be honest—but I just … hadn’t.

They were all looking at me intently. I glanced at Jamie for a second, but he clearly already knew, and the flash of disappointment on his face was too much for me.

I took a deep breath. “My dad, at the moment, is not, like … one hundred percent totally confirmed.”

Sasha’s voice was calm. “What percent is he confirmed?”

“I haven’t totally … completely … mentioned it to him. Yet.”

Joydeep threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, great. So we’ve been hyping up something that might not even happen?”

“He’s definitely coming for my sister’s show, though. He’ll be here in town, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be able to do it. It’ll happen. Even if something comes up or whatever, he could call in, maybe…”

“Which is it?” Sasha said. “It’ll happen, or he could call in, or maybe he could call in?”

“We already told Tucker about your dad visiting class, though. That’s legit probably the only reason he’s okay with us right now,” Joydeep said.

“I know,” I replied.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Sasha asked. “Should we announce it’s him? Or not?”

I didn’t speak.

“No,” Jamie said finally. “Just let the Deadnoughts think what they think for now. It’s not hurting anyone, and we literally said it wasn’t happening, so if they want to keep on believing it, then that’s their problem.”

“What about the class session, though? What do we tell Tucker?” Joydeep said.

Jamie shrugged. “That’s up to Nina.”

“Don’t put it all on me.”

Something flashed across Jamie’s face, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “But it is on you! You said we had a guest!”

“I never said that exactly. I said I thought he’d do it.” Nina Conrad, hairsplitter extraordinaire.

“So it’s our fault for jumping to conclusions,” Jamie said. “For believing you.”

“Yes, Jamie, I think you of all people would know how super full of shit I am.” It was the exact wrong thing to say. The wrong moment to be flippant. But that was what I did—I was an expert at picking wrong moments. Or maybe at picking the exact right moment for the exact wrong thing.

Jamie shook his head. The Jamietron shuttered, all the exasperation and annoyance shutting off into blankness.

Sasha and Joydeep were looking between the both of us, wide-eyed, and only when Jamie turned and started packing up his stuff did Joydeep say, “Hey, come on. We can totally figure this out.”

Jamie didn’t reply. He just left before class had even begun.





36.


OUR LAST GAME OF KINGDOM—the Kingdom revival, as it were—spanned some time. It wasn’t the neat, single-afternoon, open-and-closed story that Rose and I were hoping for when we originally agreed to play.

It was Rose who pointed out that in order for Prince Hapless’s curse to really be accurate, he would have to forget us eventually. And then he might not trust us, might not believe that we were really trying to help him when all he remembered was the worst of the world.

Ten-year-old Sidney had a response for that, as she did for everything:

“We have to be mean to you,” she told Jamie. Our journey thus far had led us to the patch of grass next to the barbecue area by the parking lot. There were a few tall trees lining the lot that turned yellow this time of year. The leaves hadn’t fallen yet—they formed a canopy of color above us. “If we want to keep you. If you want to remember us. You only forget the good memories, so we have to be mean to make sure we’re not good memories anymore.”

Distress flashed across the Jamietron. “I don’t want that.”

“It’s the only way,” she replied, eyes shining. “I’ll go first.” She cleared her throat. “You’re stupid, and we don’t need you.”

Jamie blinked at her guilelessly—pure Hapless. “I don’t believe you.”