Lucky Caller(50)

I smiled and she dropped the pose, went and flopped down on her bed and picked up her phone.

“Sorry about Dad,” I said.

She shrugged. “He’s missing your thing too, right?”

“Yeah, well … That’s not important.”

“It’s important to you.”

“Nah.”

Sidney looked up at me for a moment. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

Her gaze dropped back down to her phone. “You know what.”

It was quiet. “Yeah, okay,” I said, and then I held my arms up and did jazz hands. “What do you think?”

“Mediocre at best.”

“Hey!”

“Okay, let’s say room for improvement.”

“I’ll take it.”





45.


I WAS SITTING AT LUNCH the next day when my phone buzzed. Twenty-two tickets so far today and counting. The group chat had been going off periodically—updates on the ticket sales from Sasha, exclamations of concern from Joydeep. Jamie was trying to downplay everything. I didn’t respond to any of it. I didn’t know what to say.

I assumed it was another text from one of them, but when I checked, it was from Alexis. Question, was all it said. I would have to wait a moment for the follow-up—a typical Alexis texting convention. She liked building suspense, I think.

As I watched the text bubble, I thought of the eighth-grade field trip—the ill-fated visit to the IMA. Alexis had slid into the seat next to me on the bus ride back to school, after the kiss, the fallout.

“So?” she had asked, leaning into me. “Did it work? Are you guys together now?”

“Are you serious?”

She blinked at me. “We saw you kiss.”

But not the part afterward. I just shook my head and stared out the window. “That was stupid. It was a stupid idea. I never should’ve…” The passing streets grew blurry. I blinked against it.

Alexis was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I only picked him because you like him, and he likes you. It’s super obvious.”

“He’s mad it was for the game,” I said, voice thick, but that wasn’t even accurate by half. Mad wasn’t right. Hurt. He was hurt. Because of me. I did that.

Alexis looked troubled for a moment, but it quickly cleared. “He’ll get over it. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

She huffed a breath, frowned. “I’ll fix it,” she said finally. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t,” I replied. It would only make it worse.

“I didn’t mean to—” I had never heard Alexis sound uncertain before. “I thought I was helping.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t blame her. It was her dumb game, sure, but I was the one who agreed to play it. “Just leave it alone. Forget it.”

She left it alone. But a couple weeks later on the schoolyard after lunch, when one of the girls suggested a round of Kiss Cam, Alexis shot me a look and then said, “I’m over that game. Let’s do something else.”

Our friendship mellowed after that. I think high school was responsible for that a little bit—scattering our friend group across a giant freshman class, lessening Alexis’s pull. She sought me out more than I sought her out. Never in a needy way—it wasn’t in her nature—but the dynamic had definitely changed. That kind of queen bee hero worship thing was gone. Somehow the Kiss Cam incident leveled things out between us.

Right now, I watched as Alexis’s follow-up message popped up my phone:

So is it true some group from your radio class is having Lucas on?

I frowned. What?

Everyone’s been talking about it, she replied. Is it true?

Who’s Lucas?

From TION, she replied. The blond one. Not as hot as Kenji but more accessible than Tristan?

More messages appeared quickly.

He’s the one you want to drink hot cocoa in front of a fire with

In some mountain cabin somewhere

Wearing matching sweaters

While he bones you

ALEXIS, I typed. Who is having them on their show?

That’s what I’m asking you. It’s this huge thing apparently

Dread was growing in the pit of my stomach. Who did you hear this from?

Some girl on the dance team.

Another message followed, the nail in the coffin:

Anyway they’ve been selling tickets for it

And another:

Should I buy one?

I left before finishing my lunch, making up some excuse to the other people at my table and pitching my half-eaten sandwich on my way out of the cafeteria.

Emergency meeting at the gallery, I texted while pushing through the doors.

Right now!

RED ALERT

I almost ran straight into Jamie in the hallway. My phone slipped from my hands, but he managed to grab it.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?” A frown. “You okay?”

“We have a problem.”





46.


WE ALL HUDDLED AROUND SASHA’S laptop screen and peered at an image of five faces—one brooding, one smoldering, one smiling shyly, one grinning, and one looking pensive.