“But look at Danny,” said Laurette. “When I mentioned a four point oh and a perfect SAT, he didn’t blink.”

“No, he actually kind of did his maybe-I’ll-blush thing,” said Xena.

“Straight A’s?” asked Hal. “Really?”

“You already took the SAT?” asked Pat.

“I was homeschooled back in Ohio. You have to present proof of achievement after every school year, so I took the SAT every June. Except then they also made me take the ACT to prove that it wasn’t a fluke.”

“So you got a perfect score,” said Hal, sounding depressed about it.

“I knew the answers,” said Danny, “or I guessed really well.”

“Just the last time you took it, or every time?” asked Wheeler.

Danny didn’t want to answer. But his hesitation was all the answer they needed.

“Oh ye gods,” said Xena. “When he came to Parry McCluer he had already gotten a perfect score on the SAT and the ACT.”

“Five times,” said Wheeler.

“I earned those scores,” said Danny. “And it wasn’t five times, I only took them twice each. I studied long and hard.”

“So, he’s a god,” said Sin, ticking things off on her fingers, “and nondisgusting in appearance—”

“Matter of opinion,” said Wheeler.

“A matter of female opinion,” said Xena, “with considerable corroboration from nonmembers of this group, including the pregnant one.”

“And he can go anywhere in the world and send anybody else anywhere, he can get into anything, he can get away from anything, he can gate the clothing right off any woman—”

“We don’t need to hear about your erotic dreams, Sin,” said Laurette.

“Can he?” Xena asked Pat.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Pat.

“And he has straight A’s and perfect college entrance exams,” Sin finished.

“But his community service sucks,” said Wheeler.

“He’s just not a Princeton man,” said Hal with fake regret.

“Have any of you thought of going to Southern Virginia?” asked Danny. “It’s right here in town.”

“It’s a religious school,” said Laurette, “and we don’t go to that church.”

“You could get into any Ivy,” said Hal. “Or probably MIT or Cal Tech, since you aced the math side.”

“I don’t have any desire to go to an Ivy,” said Danny. “Or MIT or Cal Tech or Stanford or the Sorbonne.”

“What I can’t figure out,” said Wheeler, “is why you had any desire to come here to Parry McCluer.”

“He’s told you,” said Pat. “He used to gate to this hill and spy on the school. So this was the high school he wanted to go to.”

“Have we fulfilled your wildest childish dreams?” asked Hal.

“Wildest childish dreams, wildest childish…,” Xena intoned rapidly, making a tongue twister out of it.

“What do you desire, O thou onliest god of our acquaintance?” asked Laurette.

“What dost thou desire,” corrected Hal.

“Why are we talking about what happens after senior year?” asked Danny.