Expelled(36)

Half an hour later, after I’ve had a beer and about a pound of potato chips, I’m thrilled to see the approaching headlights of a car.

“Okay, you guys, here we go,” Jude says excitedly. “Our first glamorous guests! Felix, roll camera!”

But Jude was wrong about the glamour, and the s on the end of guest, too. It’s only Jere7my, who’s wearing a Star Wars T-shirt and a clip-on tie that seems to have math equations printed on it. He heaves a case of Tecate onto the chips table and scowls. “There’s more where this came from if no one throws me into the lake,” he says grouchily.

And then the five of us stand around dumbly while the sky deepens to violet and bats go swooping and cartwheeling through the air above us. The Property looks more beautiful than it ever has. But I’m probably not the only one who’s wondering if this seemingly brilliant idea was actually a huge mistake.

Jude, trying to boost morale, puts on Prince and starts dancing all by himself, which Felix, for lack of anything better to do, films.

“I don’t know what place your goofy dancing will have in our documentary,” I call.

“Only the truly innocent could move this freely,” Jude retorts, waving his arms over his head. “It’s just more evidence in my favor.”

“We’ve got to have a lot of footage,” Felix reminds me. “This is what we call an establishing shot. And who knows what you’ll want in post-production. You can’t be shy with clip length.”

Considering that I’m the one who’s supposedly directing this movie, is it bad that I have no idea what he’s talking about? I take a slug of beer and throw a handful of chips in my mouth. “Okay, yeah, sure, keep rolling,” I mumble.

“Great party,” Jere7my says drily.

“You probably don’t have much to compare it to,” I snap.

“Point taken,” he says. “Cheers.”

“Did you think any more about who might have gotten into my computer?” I ask. “Anything else you’d like to say on record? I’ve got a clip mic.”

Jere7my shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Great. Thanks so much for your help.”

“I have my own problems, as you might possibly be able to imagine,” Jere7my says.

“Your mom won’t let you buy a sixty-four-inch screen for your World of Warcraft games?”

Jere7my gives a little sneery smile. “Very funny.”

“Come on, it was mildly amusing.”

“Mildly being the operative word,” Jere7my allows.

“What are you two nut sacks talking about?” Parker asks, lumbering over. He tips up a Solo cup and downs twelve ounces of Bud in about three seconds.

“Jere-seven-my was hoping you’d ask him to dance,” I say.

Jere7my pales. “No offense, I’m sure you’re a great dancer, but that’s the last thing I’d ever—”

“Come on, dude,” Parker barks. And I’m stunned to see him grab Jere7my and spin him around. Because he’s smiling. Like this is actually fun.

“I’m going to… regurgitate,” Jere7my manages to say.

Parker gives him another few good whirls and then stops. “You just need beer, little dude.” And then he hands him one.

Jude shimmies over next to me. “It’s amazetits to see the jock talking to the nerd. Amazetits… is that better than amazeballs? It isn’t, is it? I need to find a new word entirely. Anyway! The Convict Prom is bringing people together.”

“Just not any girl people yet,” I say.

Jude says, “Well, I did bring a dress just in case.”

“Maybe you should think about putting it on.”

But right then I see Sasha’s Saab coming down the gravel road, and my heart gives a little leap of happiness and relief.

“Saved by the eternally unpredictable Sasha Ellis,” Jude says, smoothing his silk lapels. “Thank goodness, because I don’t like the heels I brought.”

When Sasha steps out of the car, she is… well, I guess the word might be resplendent. She’s wearing a clinging pale golden gown, and her hair’s pulled up into a high loose knot, with tiny curling tendrils falling into her face. I swear she’s almost glowing.

She is also—beautifully, absurdly—draped in yards of crepe paper streamers.

“Pick your chin up off the deck. You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Jere7my says. “Then again, so is she.”

I run toward Sasha and she holds out her arms. “I’m here, I’m here!” she says.

“You are,” I say, laughing, so glad to see her I could almost cry. “And I see you really went for it with the sale streamers.”

“They were such a bargain, I couldn’t resist.” She unwraps a blue streamer from her shoulders and puts it around mine. “There,” she says. “Much better.”

And it almost doesn’t matter who else comes and what happens next; this is all I need.





34


It’s as if Sasha has some kind of magnetic power, because right after she arrives, a dozen more people show up, including Jenna Tucker and Lulu Trinh, trailed by their dates, the twins Aiden and Caden Dorsey, who’ve always been indistinguishable to me. (One’s wearing a blue bow tie and the other, black—but who is who? It’s impossible to say.)