“Well?” Bryan said, preening.

“Pretty good,” she said. “What about me?”

“I don’t care about your look,” he said. He proceeded to hog the mirror until Kendra pushed him away and took over the work of self-admiration.

She turned in front of the mirror, tugging on the jacket, buttoning and unbuttoning the snaps, feeling his eyes on her. The air between them had become heavy with physical possibility.

“My boobs are all right, aren’t they?” she asked. Her own brazenness was almost amazing to her, and she willfully ignored the creeping premonition of humiliation coming over her skin.

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“One of them is a little bigger than the other,” she said, opening the jacket and cupping her breasts, “but they both have good shape.”

“Huh.”

“This is my best feature, though,” she said, lifting the jacket to show her butt. “You can touch it if you want.”

“That’s cool,” he said, and swallowed, looking away.

Smiling effortfully, Kendra retreated to her stall. She had no idea what she was doing, or where her flirtation might be going, but the exchange had left a definite charge between them, an awkwardness that Kendra both loathed and relished, and that she exacerbated through the next few changes of clothes. She continued to suit herself in skimpy leotards and scoop-neck T-shirts. Bryan, meanwhile, became obsessed with pleats.

The queasy tension dissipated a little when they finally heard Kevin shuffling down the hall, and a moment later he appeared at the gate, trailing the scent of their Burger King order.

“What the fuck?” Kevin said, leaning his enormous skateboard against the wall. He was a toadlike kid, with curly hair squeezing from under a soiled baseball cap. “Nice pants, dude.”

“It’s my new look,” Bryan said.

“That’s cool,” Kevin said. “Hey Kendra. How’s it going?” Out of his backpack he pulled two warm, grease-spotted bags and passed them through the bars. Kendra slipped him a twenty.

“Keep the change,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said. “So what? Am I supposed to guess what happened or something?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Bryan said.

“We got stuck,” Kendra said.

“I could come back with a blowtorch, dude,” Kevin offered. “Or a team of horses. We could tie the bars to a team of horses. Rip out the bars.”

“That always works,” Bryan said. “That’s true.”

“I’m just saying,” Kevin said. “Give me the word and I’ll break you dudes out.”

“Cool,” Bryan said, scanning the mall. “But hey. The security guard comes around pretty often, though. You should probably bounce.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Kevin said. He looked both ways and reached into his coat pocket. “This’ll keep you warm. I’m a fucking saint.” He handed them a narrow glass bottle. “Mr. Jim Beam.”

“Wow,” Bryan said, cradling the sealed bottle. “You’re awesome.” The addition of whiskey to the adventure made everything a degree of magnitude better.