Expelled(39)

I go find the twins and ask them to follow me into the gazebo, where Felix has positioned one of his cameras on a tripod. They look around in mild but good-natured confusion as Sasha tugs on their arms, forcing them to sit down on one of the old couches.

“This here is kind of like our confession cam,” I say. “You know, like on Real World or whatever.”

The twins blink at me. It’s truly eerie how alike they look.

“Say your names for the camera, please,” Sasha commands them, and they do as they’re told.

“Okay,” Aiden (blue bow tie) then says. “So now what? We’re supposed to tell you our deep dark secrets or something?”

“Do you have any?” I ask.

“Not really,” says Caden (black bow tie).

“They’re simple men,” Sasha says. “Or is it man, singular, since they’re genetically identical?”

“Actually, due to copy error mutations, identical twins tend to have many genetic differences,” Jere7my points out. “Human DNA contains approximately six gigabytes of information, and—”

“I’m hoping you guys can help me,” I interrupt before Jere7my goes down some coding rabbit hole. “I’m still trying to figure out how that picture of Parker got onto my Twitter. Have you heard any rumors about it?”

“I heard the topless girl’s a sophomore at Lincoln,” Aiden volunteers.

“That’s interesting,” I say, though honestly I don’t care who she is, unless she posted the picture because she decided the world ought to see her breasts—which is highly improbable. “Have you heard anything else?”

The Dorseys shake their heads. “Sorry, man,” Caden mumbles.

“Do you think I posted it?”

“I don’t know,” Caden says, and at the same moment Aiden goes, “I don’t really care.”

I sigh. These two are useless, and I immediately vow to forget which one is which.

“Dismissed,” Sasha says, barely hiding her disgust as the twins head for the keg.

Jere7my cracks open a Tecate and says, “I’m not implying the human genome is actually code—that executes its genes to build us or anything. It’s more like it gives us component blueprints—”

“Anyway,” I interrupt. “Moving on.”

A couple of freshmen stumble in, and Sasha waves them over. “Sit,” she says. “Tell us what you know about the infamous picture of Parker.”

A skinny kid with dark hair starts to grin. “Theo, right?” he says to me. “You fucked up Parker’s shit big time. Nice work.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” his friend says. Then he shoots me a puzzled look. “I don’t get why Parker’s here, though. Did he just forgive you?”

Sasha says, “Theo didn’t post the picture, you barely sentient protohumans. That’s why he’s asking people about it. Also, I don’t know why you’re here, considering none of us has any idea who you are. Did your mommies say you could be out past ten?”

The first kid looks at me. “Really? It wasn’t you?” He’s obviously disappointed.

I sigh. “Cut,” I say.

But Felix shakes his head. “We just keep the camera running,” he says. “You need an hour of shooting to make five minutes in a final cut. A lot of documentaries have a shooting ratio of, like, sixty to one—”

I don’t bother to listen to the rest of what he’s saying. I push through the screen door and stomp out onto the deck.

“Don’t any of you know what happened the night we beat Lincoln?” I yell over the thumping bass. “Doesn’t one single solitary person know who took that fucking picture that got me expelled?”

Everyone turns to stare at me.

“Chill out, Theo,” Lulu Trinh says. “You’re throwing a party, not an inquisition.”

“Yeah, have a brew and relax,” Parker calls. He moves through the crowd and says, “Let me show you how it’s done.” Then he slides over to Sasha’s side. “Want to dance?”

Sasha flashes her eyes at me. I don’t want Parker anywhere near her, but I’m not her boyfriend or her protector. I’m just the guy with the party real estate and the questions that no one seems to be able to answer.

I can’t read Sasha’s expression as she lets Parker whirl her away.

Someone hands me a bottle of something, and I take a big gulp. It’s like swallowing fire. I cough and wipe my eyes. I take another swig.

On the far end of the deck, Parker’s trying to coax Sasha into moonwalking with him. Jenna and one of the twins are making out by the snack table while Chip Hoffman and the other twin are daring each other to jump into the pond fully clothed. Jere7my reaches out, grabs a strand of chili pepper lights, and wraps it around his body.

“The yeti’s moving in on your dame,” Jere7my says. “And no one cares about your movie.”

“She’s not my dame,” I say bitterly. “And take those lights off. You look like an anemic Christmas tree.”

“You look like a lovesick douche canoe,” Jere7my retorts. He hands me the bottle of whatever it is. “Cheers.”

I grab it by the neck and vow not to let it go.