“Mike Lyle. That Viper he was always going to get.”

“Maybe,” she says slowly. “But I think he’s in California.”

“I saw him last Sunday.”

“She practically lives at Angel’s aunt’s these days,” explains Rack. “So she wouldn’t know.”

“Do you know what his father does for work?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Grimshaw says stonily. “I don’t think about him.”

“Doesn’t Mike’s father work at the high school?” asks Angel. “Isn’t he one of the janitors or something? That’s what my dad told me one time.”

“Never tell Mike you know that, okay, Serena?” says Grimshaw. “He doesn’t want anybody to know. If he knew you knew, my God …”

“I won’t. Who cares, anyway?” I ask. “Do you want someone else to drive, Rack? You haven’t had much sleep lately.”

“I’m fine,” she says. “Never been better.” Rack exhales the first drag of her cigarette and speeds down Main Street. Colchis is eerily empty for a Saturday afternoon. She runs both red lights. The whole town is at the game.

“Jesus. That’s probably why his game was off today.” Angel says from the back.

Rack shrugs. “Not my problem.” For the rest of the way up the hill, nobody speaks. When we get to the farm, we pull in next to her parents’ car.

“Oh my God,” Angel says. “Are they home?”

“No, that’s Allen’s now. I wonder what he’s doing here.”

As we get out of the car, Allen Mizerak walks out of the house. He has a dimple in his chin, electric green eyes, a small diamond in one ear, and curly brown hair still damp from the shower. I know who he is because he always handled the details of Scot’s real estate deals with Mr. Mizerak. Allegra always had an insane crush on him. He plays soccer and the jazz guitar. He’s one of those guys who’s sure everyone will find him as charming as he does, and in his case, there’s something to it. Even I find him disturbingly handsome. He’s dressed in a tuxedo.

“Oh, good,” he says, walking toward us. “Here’s somebody to do my cufflinks.”

“Look at you.” Rack folds her arms and leans against the car. “La-di-da.”

“Wedding,” he says. “My soccer coach. I’m an usher. Don’t worry about the girls. They’re all milked, fed, and tucked into bed. Dad asked me to come by.”

“I was going to do it,” Rack says. “You were supposed to drain the pool, and I was supposed to milk.”

Allen shrugs. “I didn’t mind. You can milk tomorrow.” We all stare at him. You can’t help staring at him, and he expects it, and so we all stare. All except Grimshaw, who is climbing out of Rack’s truck.