“You saved these cupcakes,” Gabe said. “Those women were going to walk away with them.”

“I know,” Elena said. “I could see it in their eyes. I would’ve stopped at nothing to change their minds.”

“Thank God they were satisfied by a selfie then,” Gabe said. His cupcake looked like Darth Vader, and his tongue was black.

“I’m really good at selfies,” Elena said. “Especially for someone with short arms.”

“Great job,” Troy said. “You’ll make someone a great provider someday.”

“That day is today,” she said, leaning back against the theater wall. “You’re both welcome.”

“Errrggh.” Troy stretched, kicking out his feet. “Cupcake coma.”

“How many did you eat?” Gabe asked.

“Four,” Troy said. “I took down the Jedi Council. Time for a little midday siesta—the Force asleepens.”

It was the warmest day yet. Elena wondered if she could take a nap, too. Maybe not. It seemed even weirder to be asleep on the street in the middle of the day than at night.

“You hate the prequels more than anyone I’ve met,” Gabe said, licking his thumb. “These cupcakes are really good. You should tweet about them again.”

“I don’t hate the prequels,” she said.

“We ranked our top thirty characters, and the only prequel character you listed was Queen Amidala.”

That was the only prequel character Elena knew . . .

“I mean, you must really hate them,” he said.

“All right,” she said, “I feel like I owe you a debt, after you helped me last night . . . ”

“You do. Not quite a life debt. But I did save you from peeing your pants twice.”

“ . . . so I’m going to tell you a secret—but you have to promise not to use it against me.”

Gabe reached over Elena’s legs to get another cupcake. “How could you possibly have a dark secret involving the Star Wars prequels? Are you responsible for Jar Jar Binks?”

“Do you promise?” she asked.

“Sure, I promise.”

“I’ve never seen the prequels.”

“What?” Gabe spat crumbs all over both of them. Elena shook them out of her ponytail. “How could that happen?”

“It didn’t happen,” she said. “I never saw them.”

“Was it against your religion? Are you some sort of Star Wars purist?”

“Sort of,” Elena said. “My dad was. He wouldn’t let me see them.”

“Did he lock you in a tower?”

“No. He just told me they were terrible. He said they’d . . . corrupt my love of Star Wars.”

“And you never thought of watching them anyway?”

“Not really. It’s my dad.”

“How does he feel about the sequels? Are you here undercover?”

“I don’t know,” Elena said. “I haven’t heard from him.”

Gabe looked confused.

“He’s sort of in Florida.”

“ ‘Sort of in Florida’ is our band name,” Gabe said.

“Don’t tell Troy,” she said.

“I won’t. He’d probably make us watch all three movies on his phone.”