He blinked again, then stepped behind his dad’s leg. Uncle Bran was in mid-conversation with my mom and Aunt Maureen, and didn’t stop talking, telling them he wished he could work from Wyoming year-round, but he automatically put his hand protectively on Kane’s back. I really missed Charles. He was the only father figure I’d ever had, and I was sad he was missing the night.

Still, I couldn’t have been happier that Frankie and my mom were here.

There was a stage set up on the wall opposite us; Karly stepped up and stood behind a microphone. She had on a jumpsuit and heels, and looked different from her usual bohemian vibe—more professional.

“That’s my teacher,” I whispered to Frankie as Karly started talking, thanking everyone for coming and telling the parents and grandparents about all the different art styles we’d worked on this summer. Frankie pulled away from me and rubbed her ear, giving me a look. She didn’t like the feel of whispers. “Sorry.”

“Where’s the guy?” she asked in a voice that wasn’t a whisper.

“Ohmygod, shh,” I said, my cheeks getting hot. “Let’s just listen.”

Frankie got out her phone and started messing around, and I couldn’t say anything because I wasn’t listening either: I was staring at Izzy’s back. I knew right where he was, in his gray-and-white button-down shirt and darker gray slacks with black dress-up shoes.

When Karly finished, it was as if Izzy had known exactly where I was, too, because he turned right toward me and smiled.

Frankie tracked my gaze, then drew out the longest, loudest “oooooooh” in the world. Several people nearby turned around. I wanted to kick her. “There he is.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Your googly eyes are a dead giveaway.”

I turned my face toward her as Izzy made his way over. “Quick, do I have mascara under my eyes?” I asked, wiping them whether I did or didn’t.

“I don’t think so?”

I shook my head at my sister—the only person I knew who could answer an easy yes-or-no question with a noncommittal “I don’t think so?”—and hoped for the best, because there he was, right in front of us, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking pretty googly himself. I tried to keep my smile in check and my voice normal.

“Hi,” I said in an abnormally high voice.

“Hi,” he said, sounding weird, too.

I cleared my throat and hooked my thumb to the right. “This is my twin sister, Frankie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Izzy.”

“Oh, I know,” Frankie said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I heard you have a trampoline and wear socks with pizzas on them.”

“Oh god,” I muttered. “Please no.”