“I do have a tramp and sweet pizza socks,” Izzy said, “but I don’t have either with me right now.”

“That’s disappointing.” Frankie frowned at him.

“These are kind of cool, too, don’t you think?” Izzy said, lifting his pant leg to show her his socks with sharks.

Frankie shrugged. “Meh. Also, you’re not that tall. And why do you have a girl’s name?”

“Frankie!” I said, exasperated. Izzy was laughing at the interrogation.

“Let’s go see Tessy’s art!” Mom said excitedly, rescuing me.

“Good idea!” I said, wanting to get Izzy away from Frankie in a hurry.

Everyone started walking, and Izzy scooted closer, saying quietly, “Yeah, let’s go see Tessy’s art.”

I smacked myself in the face. “My family is humiliating.”

Izzy laughed. “All families are humiliating. At least you have a normal amount of family here. My mom invited my entire extended family and all our neighbors, too. I think there are like twenty of them! I don’t even know some of the people.”

“No wonder the room’s so crowded!” I said.

“Yeah, but did you see Girl Sam’s entourage? She wins!” He glanced down at my dress and lowered his voice more. “You look really nice.”

“So do you,” I whispered. “I’ve never seen you in pants.”

He laughed silently. “I own some.”

“I see that.”

“Well, I’m gonna . . .” He waved in the general direction of where he’d come from. “I’ll be back.”

My face hurt from holding in a humongous smile. “Okay, see you.”

“I like him,” Frankie said after Izzy had walked away, her eyes on her phone screen.

“Good, but no more embarrassing comments when he comes back, okay?” I said.

She shrugged, committing to nothing.

“Aren’t you going behind your table like the lady said?” my sister asked, the flashing screen making her face turn blue, then green, then blue again.

“Are we supposed to . . . ?” I looked around the room and saw Jasmine, Boy Sam, Axl, and the others standing between their tables and the walls.

“Yeah, weren’t you paying attention? The lady said you’re supposed to stay at your stations for a half hour, and all the people are going to walk around and look at your art and ask you questions or whatever. Then, one at a time, you walk around and look at everyone else’s. Geez.” She rolled her eyes like telling me all that had been painful.

“You were playing video games that whole time,” I said. “Are you sure?”

In one movement, Frankie folded her shoulders forward and looked up at the ceiling, her chin jutting out. “How many times do I have to tell you I can do a bunch of things at once,” she said flatly, making brief eye contact. “I’m getting more punch.”

“Are you going to look at my—”