He looks like he isn’t entirely buying what I’m selling. “Good to hear it. Prove Buckman wrong then, and keep your nose clean. And get me those transcripts, or you’ll be watching your friends march across the stage while you sit on the floor with the audience.”

Once he’s gone, Ma Elena slaps my arm. “Don’t get yourself kicked out, mister. If you’re breaking curfew, you’re toast. He has no problem kicking people out before graduation. Last year, three seniors went to an off-campus party where there was drinking, and they weren’t just expelled but banned from campus. And you know what Frohmy did at graduation? He put three empty chairs onstage to make a point. Do you want to be an empty chair?”

What I want is to not still be here then. But I can’t say that. “No. Trust me. That’s not on my agenda.”

Time to change the subject. “So how did Gordo ask you to prom?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he surprise you or do something extravagant?”

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Gordo?” Her laugh has a little edge to it. “He never really asked. He’s my boyfriend, so it’s implied.” But then she thinks about it. “I heard through the grapevine—perks of working in the office—that he put in an order for the nicest corsage the florist carries. He’s more a shower than a talker.”

“I guess.” I’m not a huge fan of giving my dad credit for things. “Okay, so, what’s the coolest promposal you saw?”

Her blank face confirms that promposals are a new thing. At First Secondary, you just use your words and ask, or if you’re shy, you ask by dorm mail. When I explain how we do it in my imaginary Connecticut, Ma Elena is deeply jealous. I tell her about the kid who hid themself in the salad bar and popped out (breadcrumbs and kale flying everywhere) to surprise their vegetarian boyfriend. Then there was the guy who hired mariachis to serenade his Mexican girlfriend in the middle of lunch and practiced his Spanish long enough that he didn’t just sound like a white politician trying to be cool. I even tell her about Cheng’s promposal, but I don’t say it was to me. (Really, do normal rules even apply if I’m time traveling? I think not.)

“Did you do something like that for Leeza?”

“Oh, uh, no, she asked me. Just as friends, obviously. And now we’re not going together anyway. Chaz and Tawny broke up, so Leeza is going with her for solidarity.” I skip the part about how Leeza’s also pissed because I spooked her married teacher-boyfriend.

“I heard, actually. She keeps hinting that I should go with them.”

“Hinting?” Leeza isn’t really the subtle type.