“What were they thinking when they scheduled this movie for December?” Troy said. “They weren’t thinking of us, I can tell you that. May,” he said, shaking his head. “May is when you release a Star Wars movie. If this were a May movie, the line would already be around the block.”

“Lucky for us, I guess,” Elena said. “We get to be first.”

“Oh, I’d be first no matter what,” Troy said. “I am here for it, you know?” He cupped his hands around his lips and shouted, “I’m here for it!”

Me, too, Elena thought.

Elena couldn’t remember the first time she saw a Star Wars movie . . . in the same way she couldn’t remember the first time she saw her parents. Star Wars had just always been there. There was a stuffed Chewbacca in her crib.

The original trilogy were her dad’s favorite movies—he practically knew them by heart—so when Elena was little, like four or five, she’d say they were her favorite movies, too. Because she wanted to be just like him.

And then, as she got older, the movies started to actually sink in. Like, they went from something Elena could recite to something she could feel. She made them her own. And then she’d kept making them her own. However Elena changed or grew, Star Wars seemed to be there for her in a new way.

When she’d found out that there were going to be sequels—real sequels, Han and Leia and Luke sequels—she’d flipped out. That’s when she’d decided to get in line.

She didn’t want to miss this moment. Not just this moment in the world, but this moment in her life.

If you broke Elena’s heart, Star Wars would spill out. This was a holy day for her—it was a cosmic event. This was her planets lining up. (Tatooine, Coruscant, Hoth.)

And Elena was going to be here for it.

Her left foot was asleep.

She kept kicking the sidewalk, then stood up to bounce.

“Is your leg asleep again?” Troy said. “I’m worried about your circulation.”

“It’s fine,” Elena said, stamping her foot.

She’d only been sitting for two hours, but she was so bored she could hardly stand it. She could literally hardly stand; even her blood vessels were bored.

She’d brought lots of books. (She’d planned to read Star Wars books whenever she had a quiet moment in line.) (Which was every moment so far.) But the wind kept blowing the pages, and the paper was so bright in the sun that reading made her eyes water.

None of that seemed to bother silent Gabe, who read his paperback without seeming to notice the sun, the traffic, Troy, Elena, or Elena’s mom—who kept driving by slowly, like someone trying to buy drugs.

“The Imperial March” started playing, and Elena answered her phone.