“Chip is in the smoking lounge waiting for you so you can make your entrance,” Mr. Sutcliffe said. He also sounded manly. And a little drunk. Not a lot drunk, but a slow, easy, expensive whiskey or two drunk. He probably wasn’t. He was just so rich that Scarlett expected he always sounded like that. He offered Lola an arm, and she was taken away.

“Come see the cake,” Mrs. Sutcliffe said in her manly way.

In the middle of the room, right on the edge of the dance floor, was what appeared to be a large model boat. It was long and black, perfect in every detail, right down to the life preservers. And it was deeply, repulsively ugly.

Spencer ran his tongue over his teeth, but made no comment.

“It’s a boat,” Scarlett’s mom said. “How unique.”

“Yes. It’s our boat. We know how much it means to them.”

Scarlett’s parents no doubt recognized the boat. They quickly clasped their hands together for support. They were always doing lovey-dovey things like that. It was usually gross, but today it spoke of frustration.

“Your table is right over here,” Mrs. Sutcliffe added, guiding them to a table that couldn’t really be defined as central. It was sort of off in the corner, near the sushi station. They were deposited there and left alone. They watched as more suited and stiffly dressed people drifted in and right over to the Sutcliffes.

“Everyone here is old,” Marlene said.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Amberson appeared in a stunning floor-length gold dress and sashayed over to them. Scarlett’s mom made a polite, approving remark about it. It was nice to have another member of their tiny team.

“Do you like it?” she said, smoothing her hands over her hips. “I wasn’t sure if it made me look like an Oscar, but Billy said it was divine, and he doesn’t offer compliments lightly. It’s important to have a few truly honest friends, not just ones who tell you what you want to hear. Oh, speaking of friends…O’Hara, I found one of your friends downstairs being hassled by the staff about an invitation. I brought him up with me.”

“One of my…?”

He was walking across the room with the same expression he wore every day in Bio. He hadn’t attempted to tame his wavy curls, and they floated around his head with a kind of rock-star-halo effect. Max. In a suit and poorly tied tie and sneakers. He strode right up to the Martin table.

“Here I am,” he said, stating the obvious.

Scarlett couldn’t blurt out “Why are you here?” in front of everyone, so she just attempted to smile. Max, however, was prepared to do the explaining.

“She invited me after detention yesterday,” he added.