Ms. O’Connor’s speech marked the beginning of the reception. The parents milled about, ate some cupcakes, caught up on the latest gossip, and complimented the students who’d put on the show.

I leaned to Carter to make a sarcastic comment about what Ms. O’Connor had said, about how the students here couldn’t function without the PTA and how she should have said PDA, to see that he was already in the middle of discussing it with Hannah. I couldn’t see his expression, but Hannah’s read like He. Was. Dazzling. Her.

I turned to Eliza, moving close enough to whisper, “Now I get why you didn’t like me asking about Hannah.”

She twiddled her thumbs. “Ya got me.”

“Impressive . . . how much you seemed to care about the Bro Code when you knew Carter would break it anyway.”

“A few weeks ago, she mentioned a sort-of interest in him, and he’s had this little crush on her basically since we moved here. You have no idea how annoying it’s been having to watch them figure out that they like each other. Especially since I’ve known for a while and I couldn’t tell either of them.”

I know exactly how that feels.

“What’s funny?” she asked as I chuckled.

“I, um.”

You could tell her, Nick. She gave you a good opening.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” I said.

Someone’s kid brother ran up to the stage. Even though the microphone was off, he stood on his tiptoes and tried to sing.

“Little dude bailed you out, dork,” she said.

“Did you just call me a dork?”

“Huh?”

“Ha. Okay.” The amount she stared at me was apparently inversely related to how articulate I could be. Figure it out, Maguire.

Maybe I was being a dork.

Before I could recover, she smoothed out her dress and said, “You want to get out of here? I sure do.” She pointed towards Carter and Hannah, who were still deep in some random conversation, probably about math or something.

“You got it.” I offered her my arm. She looped her hand through it so gracefully that I almost felt like a proper Englishman.

“Thank you, Nicholas.”

“Of course. Where would milady like to go?”

“Anywhere it’s not so hot.” She fanned herself with her hand, kids now crowding around us to each get their shot at the microphone.

“Have you ever been to the roof?” I asked.

“Our school has a roof? Weird. I never noticed.”

“And you made it to junior year? I don’t know, Eliza. You might not be ready to see the roof. It’s kind of a secret. I can’t take just anyone up there.”

We bumped against each other as I led her out of the auditorium, away from the microphone spectacle and (sadly) away from the cupcakes. The cooler air and emptiness outside the auditorium were worth it, however.

She squeezed my arm. “No, I take it back. Can I see the roof? Please?”

“You have to use the magic words.”