What? What? She’d done no such thing. She’d sort of made a friendly joke as she was leaving. A sort of friendly joke is not an actual invitation to an actual wedding party.

On the word detention, all the other Martins gave her a look. But since Lola had trumped them all for surprises, the matter was let go, to be discussed at some future point.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Scarlett’s mom asked.

“This is Max,” she said. “Max Biggs.”

“That girl’s brother?” Spencer asked. “The other client…”

“Chelsea.” Mrs. Amberson stepped in. “Yes, indeed.”

“Marlene,” her dad said, “move over so Max can sit next to Scarlett.”

Normally, Marlene would have balked at a request like that, but Max fascinated her, showing up out of nowhere with tales of Scarlett in detention. Sensing a kindred spirit, she quickly shuffled over and fixed an unblinking gaze on him. A quick round of introductions was made.

“So,” her mom began, “you go to school with Scarlett?”

“I’m her lab partner,” Max said, taking the napkin from his place and dropping it on his lap. “We do science together.”

“What were you in detention for?” Marlene asked. “Cheating?”

“No,” Max said. “Physical violence.”

Mrs. Amberson laughed. Spencer gave Max a quick sideways examination, and looked uneasy with his findings.

“You’re going to explain that later, right?” Scarlett’s mom asked, trying to remain calm. Her nerves were already so tattered.

“I can explain it now,” Max said, leaning back to make way for the appetizer, which the waiter said was some kind of salad with “ash-rolled” goat cheese. “She knocked me off my chair.”

“Shut up,” Marlene said.

Scarlett’s dad put a hand over his forehead. It sort of looked like he was trying to wipe his eyebrows off.

“It was an accident,” Scarlett said.

“Yeah,” Max said, grabbing his fork and tucking in. “It was. But it was really loud, so we both got detention.”

Once again, he was letting her off the hook. Her parents seemed to believe this, or at least pretended to…but Spencer and Marlene clearly did not. They were all capable of knocking people over. They knew their own blood.

“I understand from your mother that you’re also in the performing arts?” Mrs. Amberson said. “You’re a musician?”

“Nope,” he said plainly, eating away.

And that was it from Max for a while. Mrs. Amberson took the cue to start talking and never stop.