“I feel like the kid who gets picked last for kickball,” Angie said. There was a warm wind but she was wishing for a shawl or a sweater or a blanket she could hide under. She alternated between wondering where John was in the crowd and hoping he had stayed away. She needed to tell him about Win Walker and the condom debacle, but there would be no chance to do that for the next few hours.

“I’m glad they do the guest baskets last,” Rivera said. “I wouldn’t want to miss any of this.”

Angie said, “Did you see Little Billy Munro?” She pointed with her chin. “The entire population of the Liars’ Bench is over there giving you the eye, and they haven’t bid on a basket yet. Look,” she said, “you’re up.”

The mayor was holding up Rivera’s basket in one hand while he peered at the list in the other. “Folks—”

“One hundred dollars!” The decidedly female voice came from the back of the crowd.

“Oh, shit,” said Rivera, sliding down in her chair. “Weepy Meg.”

Ridley Smith laughed, though he didn’t look much amused. “I haven’t even—”

“One hundred twenty!” Markus Holmes called, his voice cracking.

“One thirty.” Meg’s voice boomed like a soprano foghorn. Angie wanted to get a look at the woman she had only heard about, but there were enough people craning their necks. She settled for sending a furtive glance in John’s direction. He was talking to Kai, his head bent down solicitously. A flush started deep in Angie’s belly, but luckily nobody was paying any attention to her just now.

“The Liars bid one hundred fifty!” called Little Billy.

“Wow, Angie.” Rivera gave a nervous giggle. “I’ve got the Liars and the lesbian competing for my company at dinner.”

“Supper,” Angie muttered. “It’s called supper in the evening.”

The mayor was trying to impose some order on the bidding, and not having any luck at all.

“One fifty-five!”

“One hundred sixty!”

“Is that you, Meg?” The mayor squinted into the late-day sun. “Are you bidding for the ladies’ auxiliary?”

“I’m bidding for myself,” Meg called back. “You got a problem with that, bubba?”

Angie turned to hiss in Rivera’s ear. “Weepy Meg is the mayor’s sister?”

Rivera bit her lip. “Who knew?”

“One hundred sixty-five dollars!” Little Billy had worked his way to the stage and he held up a fistful of bills. “Cash money.”

“Two hundred fifty dollars,” Meg yelled.

“What a time to come out of the closet,” Angie said.

Rivera slid slower on her seat. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or pissed off.”