“Are you okay?” Eddie had suddenly appeared by our side—or rather, Jill’s side. “What happened?” He wasn’t even looking at the punch. His focus was all on Jill, and just like earlier, she actually seemed to notice it. Brayden was the one who answered, his eyes alight with intellectual curiosity as he watched teachers scurry and try to clean up the mess.

“Some sort of chemical reaction, if I had to guess. Could be as simple as using baking soda. Or maybe some kind of mechanical device?”

I gave Eddie a pointed look. “It was a prank,” I said. “Anyone could’ve done it.”

Eddie looked at me, then looked back at Jill. He gave a slow nod. “I see. We should get you out of here,” he told her. “You never know what—”

“No, no,” I said. “Get Angeline out of here.”

“Angeline?” Eddie’s face registered disbelief. “But how…?”

I directed him toward where she stood with Trey on the dance floor. They, like many others, were staring at the aftermath of the punch explosion with wonder. “I don’t know how she got here,” I said. “It’s irrelevant. She needs to leave. Mrs. Weathers nearly caught her.”

A knowing glint flashed in Eddie’s eyes. “But the punch distracted her?”

“Yes.”

His attention fell back on Jill, and he smiled. “Convenient timing.”

She smiled back. “I guess we got lucky this time.” Their gazes locked, and it was almost a shame to interrupt. “Go,” I told Eddie. “Get Angeline.”

He cast one last look at Jill and then jumped into action. I couldn’t hear the conversation as he spoke with Angeline and Trey, but the look on his face would accept no arguments. I could see Trey yielding to family authority, and after a few more arguments, Angeline gave in as well. Eddie quickly escorted her out, and to my relief, neither Mrs. Weathers nor anyone else seemed to notice.

“Jill,” I said. “It might be best if you and Micah leave early. You don’t have to go right this second… but soon.”

Jill nodded, face sad. “I understand.”

Even if no one would connect her to this, it was best if she wasn’t around. Already, I could see people gathering at the table and, like Brayden, trying to figure out what could have caused such a phenomenon. She vanished into the crowd. Brayden finally looked away from the spectacle. He started to say something to me and then suddenly jerked his head toward the DJ.

“Oh no,” he said, face crestfallen.

“What?” I asked, half-expecting the DJ’s table to collapse or a speaker to catch on fire.

“This song. I requested it for you… but it’s almost over.”

I tilted my head to listen. I didn’t know the song, but it was slow and romantic and made me feel… well, kind of guilty. Here it was, a sentimental gesture from Brayden, ruined by my “family’s” wacky hijinks. I caught hold of his hand.

“Well, it’s not over yet. Come on.”