“Yes, yes, I love it. I bow to you. The only conceivable way you could be a better girlfriend would be if you cloned another version of yourself andbothof you banged Zach at the same—”
“Ugh, okay. Stop!” I say. “Help me carry this thing.”
“That looks like one heavy-ass overhead projector,” Katy says, blowing on her newly manicured nails—short, though, so they don’t affect her playing—as she steps around me. “I’ll bring the popcorn.”
I sigh and carry the projector by myself all the way to the front door of Zach’s house. I set it down on the ground and go back for the nine DVDs I picked up at his father’s store this afternoon, then shut the door of Katy’s car. I enlisted her help to set up, Mrs. Dubois’s to borrow the projector that sits in the corner of the music room but nobody ever uses, and Zach’s family’s to use the basement. Kevin has even put sheets over the furniture, just like the old days. All I have to do is set up the projector, and Zach’s perfect night will be a go.
I am doing it partly because, between play rehearsals and performances, I’ve hardly seen him the past week and a half. It feels longer than that, since we’ve both been busy the past month with the things we always seem to be busy with that aren’t each other. I am also doing it because of my promise to unstick him.
“Eww,” Katy crows when I tell her this.
“Get your head out of the gutter,” I laugh. “I mean inspire, motivate, encourage.”
“Whatever,” Katy says, slurping on the milk shake she insisted we get from Shake Attack on our way here. (I’d snorted when she said, “That’s what you get for making me drive. And though all signs point to my being spectacularly lactose intolerant, I need sustenance for all the heavy lifting we’ll be doing.”)
It turns out the only person doing heavy lifting is me.
I pull down all the Ciano posters from Zach’s room—twelve—and with them line the walls of the basement.
Katy waits with me for Zach to arrive. The performance is supposed to finish at eight, with the cast party going till nine, but Zach told me in his last text that he’s exhausted and doesn’t plan to stay more than a few minutes or he’d have taken me.
“So, Katherine,” Kevin says, sitting on the couch next to Katy. “If I were to pick up a musical instrument, what would you recommend?”
Katy shoots me a skeptical look. “Um, I don’t know. What kind of music do you like?”
“All kinds,” Kevin says, wriggling his eyebrows. “And personally, I think I’d be fantastic at the harmonica.”
“Kevin,” I say in that warning voice I’ve heard everyone use so often with him, even though I’m not a hundred percent sure where he’s going with this.
“Or should I say,” Kevin continues, “themouthorgan.” He makes loud kissing sounds, then throws his head back and releases riotous laughter, slapping the arm of the couch.
“My God,” Katy whispers to me. “How old is this kid?”
“I’m fifteen literally in two weeks,” Kevin supplies. “Old enough to date.”
“Good Lord,” Katy says with disgust, and I laugh. I would tell her she’s finally met her match, but then Kevin would probably take that the wrong way, and the last thing I want is to encourage his out-of-control flirting.
“Where isyourboyfriend?” Katy asks after a minute. “There is a world of post-pubescent boys waiting forme.”
I check my phone again. Still no message from Zach. I’ve sent him a couple of texts, but I don’t want to send too many or he’ll suspect something is up.
“It’s eight-thirty,” I say. “He’s probably on his way as we speak.”
“Hey, Raj left hisDungeon World 2here. Do you wanna play?” Kevin asks all of a sudden.
“What’sthata euphemism for?” Katy asks me.
“I don’t think anything.”
“Fine,” Katy says to Kevin. “But I don’t actually know how to play.”
“I’m more than happy to show you, babe,” Kevin says, and proceeds to explain the game quite patiently. The three of us take turns playing for about half an hour, and then we are all bored again.
“Whereishe?” I say out loud, and send him another text asking just that. Five minutes and zero responses later, Kevin pulls out a tray of face paint he got recently and convinces Katy it will be hilarious for her to jump out at Zach looking like a zombie when he arrives.
So we sit mixing colors, Kevin relishing the opportunity to touch Katy’s pimple-free face, for about another half hour.
And then it is nine-thirty and Katy is stretching and saying, “I love you, Sullivan, but Gilbert has to go. I don’t know what convinced me in the first place that it would becuteto watch you two suck face when he sees your surprise, anyway. And you know that is what allthisis an excuse for.”
