“Oh, right,” Hilary says, glancing down at one of the cards on a place setting near us. “They make you eat dinner with your date.”

Brendan cranes his neck toward the other side of the room. “I think that’s the table for singles. Yep, there’s my name. See you guys soon.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling a little tug inside me as he walks away. How soon?

“Here we are, Abigail,” Hilary says, pointing to one of the tables in the middle, with its fake candle all lit up because can we really be trusted not to burn this place down? No, we cannot.

“Okay,” Abigail says, “now we gotta find Cham and switch it with whoever’s next to us.”

I scan the tables carefully. The white tablecloths are pristine, but not for long. “Oh no, guys.” I point to a chair a few tables down.

“Oh, shit,” Abigail says, moving a few wooden-backed chairs aside to get a closer look.

“Of course,” I groan, following her to my seat of doom. “The place settings were assigned a while ago, back when Gene got the tickets.” I look up at the ceiling. “Why do you insist on screwing me like ten times over, Universe?”

“Uh, you talking to yourself, Cham?” Hilary asks, prodding me with a nearby fork.

“No, I’m talking to the universe.” I look at them and my eyes widen. “Wait, could this mean that Gene and I are meant to—”

“No!” they shout. I look behind me. Across the room, Gene and Helga are crossing the dance floor, looking for seats among the dinner tables too. “Well, this is gonna be awkward,” Hilary says.

I smooth my dress and summon the power of my X-tits. “It doesn’t have to be. I think I’ll just trade with Helga because in addition to graduating from high school, I’d like to graduate from giving a fuck.”

“Woo!” Abigail says, pushing the chairs in and turning around. “That’s the Cham I’ve been waiting for.”

I take my name card off the plate and walk steadily toward Gene and Helga. They stop holding hands when they see me, which I guess is considerate, but we’re also kinda past that point. “Hey, Helga,” I say, looking up at her glitter-sprayed hair and really wishing I’d done more than provide a home for baby forest animals in mine. “Do you want to switch dinner seats with me?”

I hold up my card and point past the DJ to where Doug and Danika are already taking the seats next to Gene’s card.

“Thanks,” Helga says, “That’d be great, except I was late buying my ticket, so I don’t know if I have a place card anywhere to switch with you.” She looks over her shoulder, seemingly scanning the place settings to find herself.

“It’s okay, I’ll drag up a seat somewhere.” I hand her my place card, which says CHAMOMILE because we’re mature now. We use full names.

“Thanks, Cham,” Gene says, and I kind of hate how grateful he looks. Like it’s a prom seat, not a kidney. “Maybe catch you on the dance floor.”