I exchange a wave with Isabel, letting her know I’ve arrived, and then the music kicks up and I turn back, not wanting to miss a minute. Ashleigh is phenomenal; I had no idea her body could move like that, but I sense Landon is an extremely lucky man. By the time they finish up, in a pose that shouldn’t be physically possible, half the room is on its feet, and I’m pretty sure everyone feels bad for whoever has to follow that.

Turns out, that honor belongs to 10/10, No Notes, the school’s premier a cappella group, which absolutely slays a Taylor Swift medley. Then there’s a juggler, followed by a gymnast, followed by Henry the Rumson clarinetist, and then Jesse goes up there for his “stand-up” act, which is spot-on but also silly. Priya follows that with an Adele cover that has my jaw on the floor. By the time Hoffman takes the stage again, I’m having such a good time that I forget I’m performing until I hear Isabel’s and my names.

Oh God. What have I done? I do not want to perform in front of all these people, actually! This is not even a cool thing to do! What was I thinking?

“Stop freaking out,” Isabel mutters in my ear as she wraps an arm around my waist and steers me up to the stage. “You’re annoyingly good at this. Just smile and have fun. There is literally nothing riding on success here.”

Okay, she has a good point. I adjust the bottom of the blazer I borrowed from Priya, taking care to make sure the lace corset from my mall outing with Salem is being nicely displayed, and then I step up to introduce myself. But before I can, Isabel beats me to the mic, and the mere sight of her in her glittery bodysuit and heels has the room exploding with whistles and applause.

Weirdly, it takes a lot of the edge off to be reminded that as long as Isabel’s up there in next to nothing, no one really cares what I do. So when she sweeps her arm in my direction and says, “Ladies and gentlefolk, please allow me to introduce the Magnificent Everett Riley,” I’m actually feeling relaxed enough to smile, wave, and curtsy in my little shorts.

From across the room, I catch Salem’s eye and see him biting his lip as he tries not to laugh, and I can’t help winking.

“As some of you know,” I announce into the mic, “though I couldn’t possibly say how—so random, right?—I have a particular skill with cards.” A couple of the Rumson guys who’ve lost way too much money to me boo from the back, and the portion of the crowd that knows exactly why laughs. “As such, the cards are only happy to do what I tell them.”