We had great seats—right smack in the middle. The handicapped section. I have to admit I felt guilty—not only because I wasn’t handicapped, but because Lexie was the most unhandicapped handicapped person I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Are you having fun?” she asked when the band took a break.

I shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” I said, trying not to sound like I was having as much fun as I really was, because what if she took my real enthusiasm for fake enthusiasm?

“I like this band,” Lexie said. “Their sound’s not all muddy. I can hear all seven musicians.”

I thought about that. I had been watching them for more than half an hour, and now that they were off the stage, I couldn’t tell you how many musicians there had been.

“Amazing,” I said. “You’re like one of those mentalists. You can see things with your mind.”

She reached over to pet Moxie, who sat next to her in the aisle, content as long as he was petted every few minutes. “Some people are good at being blind, others aren’t,” and then she smiled. “I’m very good.”

“Great. We’ll call you the Amazing Lexis.”

“I like that.”

“And now,” I announced, “the Amazing Lexis, through her supersonic skills of perceptive-ability”—she giggled—“will tell me how many fingers I am holding up.” I held up three fingers.

“Um . . . two!”

“Wow!” I said. “You’re right! That’s amazing!”

“You’re lying.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s only a one-in-four chance that I’d get it right—one-in-five if you counted your thumb as a finger—so the odds were against it. And besides, ‘lie’ was written all over your voice.”

I laughed, truly impressed. “The Amazing Lexis strikes again.”

Lexie grinned for a moment, and I noticed how her smile fit with her half-closed eyes. It was like the face you make when you’re tasting something unbelievable, like my dad’s eggplant Parmesan, which is poison in anyone else’s hands.

Lexie reached over to pet Moxie again. “Too bad Calvin couldn’t come with us.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, right.” I probably would have gone the whole night without thinking about him once, and now I felt a little guilty about that—and annoyed that I felt guilty—and irritated that I was annoyed. “Why would you want the Schwa on a date with us, anyway?”

“This isn’t a date,” Lexie said. “People don’t get paid to go on a date.”

She thought she had me there. “Well, you’re not supposed to know I’m getting paid—and since you know and are still letting me take you out, it is a date.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Maybe she just couldn’t argue with my logic.

“There’s something . . . unusual about Calvin,” she said.

“He’s visibly impaired,” I told her. “Observationally challenged.”

“He thinks he’s invisible?”