Daniella nodded once. She got out her phone. She flipped open the selfie mode. Looked at herself. Raked her hands through her frizzing blond hair, then gave up. She looked up at Imogen. “If I regret this, I’m blaming you.”

Imogen understood. “Fair enough.”

Daniella nodded. She hit record. “Hey, guys. So. It’s me. Anachronistic Blonde. Coming out of my little hole of invisibility to tell everyone to get to Wild Nights Bookstore if you want to hear me read some poems.”

“Don’t forget the shoes,” said Imogen in the background.

Daniella turned, and ran out of time on her footage. She posted it and flipped the camera onto Imogen. “Why don’t you tell them about the shoes?”

Imogen cleared her throat. She could do this. If Daniella could read her poems, she could be on camera. “There’s going to not only be poetry readings by your favorite poet over there, there’s going to be signed fake Jordans with her art and poetry on it. Limited-edition collectors’ items, people. You do not want to miss this. And all the proceeds will benefit the bookstore to keep it from going under. Damn the man. Save Wild Nights.”

Daniella posted that, flipped the camera back to selfie mode, and said, “I don’t know who the man is, but definitely come by and come save Wild Nights.”

“You definitely know who the man is,” said Imogen, even though she was off camera in that shot.

Imogen watched as Daniella posted the last video. “Well?”

“I do feel okay. Jittery but okay.” Daniella shrugged.

Imogen stood up. “All right, then. Time for us to save Wild Nights.”

27

My Noon, My Midnight, My Talk, My Song

5:41 P.M.

Rinn

AJ was lining up a new row of chairs. For a boy with such messy hair he was doing the job methodically. One right after another, dropping each chair into a line and then leaving a gap for an aisle. Then the next row, then on down the line, back the other way.

Crowds had been coming in since both Rinn and Daniella had put up their announcement. It had been a slow trickle at first, but there was a steadiness to it. Rashida Johnson came back. So did Charlene with the arm tattoos. Myrna had returned and found a seat at the front—one of the ones that Daniella and Rinn had already set up.

Jo’d had AJ set up more chairs just in case. Because most of the ones that Rinn and Daniella had already set up were nearly filled. Many, though not all, of the Brock Harvey fans had managed to stick around.

Rinn had figured she could do it. She could tell AJ how she felt. She could do anything if she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. That’s how it had always been.

With AJ, all she had to do was time it right.