Some moviegoers stopped on their way out of the theater to watch. Elena snapped a photo when Gabe fell to the ground. (#Epic #KnightFall #OnLine) Everyone clapped.

When the crowd cleared, Elena noticed her mom parked at the curb. Elena jumped up and ran over.

“Are you coming home?” her mom asked.

“Nope,” Elena said. “Do you want to get in line?”

“No way. You get this craziness from your dad, not me.”

The night was clear and cold. Sandra had talked Manager Mark into refilling Elena’s hot-water bottle at the coffee machine. Elena hugged it under her sleeping bag.

“Hey,” Gabe said, “I got you something.”

“What?”

He handed her a movie-theater cup, one of the new Star Wars ones. “Tonight you can pee in a collector’s item.”

“Ha ha,” Elena said. “Did we eat all the cupcakes?”

Gabe handed her the box. There was one left. A very lonely C-3PO. Elena picked up her phone and took a photo of it. Then went to Instagram. #LastDroidStanding

Her phone battery was still seventy percent charged, and she only had twenty-four hours to get through, so Elena decided to indulge herself by thumbing through her Instagram feed, reading the comments on her posts from the last few days.

Her friends had all hearted them and left funny comments. God, Elena missed her friends. (Not that Troy and Gabe weren’t great. She’d definitely miss them.) (Even Gabe.) (Especially Gabe.)

Her first post, from Monday, had the most comments. The photo of the line.

“Is that Gabe?” someone had posted.

“GABERS.”

“It’s Geekle!” Elena’s friend Jocelyn had posted. “ICKLE GEEKLE.”

Geekle? Elena thought.

She quickly texted Jocelyn: “Who’s Geekle?”

“Geekle!” Jocelyn texted back. “From Spanish class. He sits at the back. He’s kind of geeky.”

“Is that why you call him Geekle?”

“IDK,” Jocelyn sent. “ICKLE GEEKLE. Tell him I said hi.”

Elena looked over at Gabe. He did look sort of familiar . . .

Jocelyn had nicknames for everyone, usually mean ones. “Ickle Geekle,” whatever that meant, was mild. Jocelyn herself wasn’t very mean, once you got to know her. She just thought she was funnier than she actually was. And she couldn’t stand silence. She’d fill every second with stupid jokes.

Gabe. From Spanish class. Elena tried to picture him without his peacoat . . . While she was staring, Gabe took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“You don’t wear glasses!” she blurted out.

“What?” he said, putting his glasses back on.

“In school,” she said. “You don’t wear glasses.”

Gabe’s face fell. “No. I don’t.”

Gabe. Geekle. His Spanish name was Gabriel. Elena had never talked to him; she’d never really looked at him. (Which sounded worse than it was—Elena didn’t go around looking at people. She minded her own business!)

This was bad. This was very bad.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Why?”

“I didn’t recognize you.”