“You look pretty,” said Holden. And then, as if realizing how awkward that sounded, followed it up with, “Uh, pretty good,” which was definitely worse.

“Aw, thanks,” I said. And then, realizing I should probably compliment him too, said, “Your cologne is very… musky.”

Wynezra was staring at Holden’s ass in those khakis—then snapped upright when the prevailing silence started to ring like a red flag.

“Damn, girl,” she said to Imogen. “You look fine.”

My eyeballs practically popped out of my head. I shot Wynezra a “Tone it the fuck down” look.

“D’aww, shucks,” said Imogen. She punched Wynezra playfully in the shoulder and said, “You look pretty spiffy yourself.”

Welp. Now that the awkwardness had reached critical, we all moseyed silently out to Imogen’s car.

“You four have fun!” said Principal Durden, who until this point had been silently spying on us around the corner of the kitchen. She followed us out to the doorway and perched there like an excited, anxious, helicopter-parenting vulture. “I love you, Holden. Remember to take your indigestion medicine.”

“Oh my god,” said Holden, between his teeth.

“I’ll make sure he takes it, Mrs. D!” said Wynezra, cheerfully.

Holden opened the back door of Imogen’s car. And then he stood there. It took me a second to realize he was opening it for me.

“Oh,” I said. “Thank you.”

I climbed in, he shut the door, and started walking around to the other side. Wynezra apparently hadn’t coordinated the chivalrous door-opening scheme with Holden, though, because she was already in the passenger seat, and Imogen was walking around to the driver’s side.

Wynezra, not even turning around to look at me, said, “If we haven’t swapped by the time the movie starts, should I make a move on Imogen? Yes or no?”

You have to understand that Wynezra asked this in a window of mere seconds. Maybe a mere second. I had no time to ask what “make a move” meant. I had no time to consider the consequences. I only had time to utter one single-syllable word.

All I could think of was Imogen getting “a move” from some semblance of Ezra, and that sounded amazing.

“Yes,” I said.

Imogen and Holden entered their doors at exactly the same time.

“Let’s get this girl some Fat Patties!” I screamed, to divert attention from the fact that I was having a mental breakdown.

But in that moment, it was a good mental breakdown. Probably the best sort of mental breakdown. Like that moment on a roller coaster when the nose tips downward, and you plunge, and the momentum flings your heart into your esophagus, and you throw your arms into the air and think, I am going to die, but it’s okay because this is also probably the greatest moment of your life.

THIRTEEN

“YOU OKAY?” SAID HOLDEN. “You haven’t touched your Big Fat Patty.”