My jaw was already extended to maximum gape. It could drop no farther.

“Ezra,” she said, “whether you’re you or Wynonna on prom night… will you go to prom with me?”

I just stood there.

Gaping.

Like an idiot.

“I should mention that Wynonna is asking Holden to prom as we speak,” said Imogen, mostly to fill the silence. “It’s supposed to be a double-date sort of thing. Just FYI, in case you’re thinking of saying no—”

But I was already nodding my head like a dashboard bobblehead, and I was crying, and I was smiling so hard, it was undoubtedly ugly.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”

“Awww,” said Imogen, and she stood up and hugged me. “You’re a really sensitive guy, Ezra. I like that.”

“I’m on my period,” I said, sniffling.

Imogen laughed and squeezed me harder. “The fact that you know how that feels makes me adore you even more.”

Holden and I immediately texted each other, and then sprinted in each other’s general direction. When we met in the hall, our eyes swelled like balloons, and we squealed.

“I just got asked to prom!” Holden screamed, waving his boxed boutonnière.

“Me too!” I said, shaking both my boutonnière and my corsage at him.

We kept screaming, hugged each other, and not five seconds later, I felt something nudge my thigh. Our scream transitioned into an “oh god, no” sort of wail, and we broke away. Holden threw his hands in the air, like he was under arrest.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just excited, and you look like my prom date.”

“You do realize,” I said, “that you might be going to prom with Wynonna in my body.”

“Oh, I know. That’s actually a good thing. Otherwise, I might have a boner all night!”

I laughed.

“I’m serious!” he said. “And I still have to redeem myself for throwing my farts in her face. I’m pretty sure rocking a woody all night would be a step in the opposite direction.”

I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re a real pal, you know that?” said Holden, unamused. “Laughing at my misfortune. My life is being ruined by boners and farts, you know. This is not a laughing matter. This is serious.”

“Stop it!” I wheezed hysterically. “I can’t breathe! I can’t… I can’t breeeathe!”

Rekindling our tradition of old, Wynezra, Imogen, Holden, and I carpooled to theater for our final dress rehearsal. Imogen and Holden let me ride shotgun in the Subaru while Wynezra drove.

We arrived at the Amityvale, got in costume and makeup, and performed our parts like we were born for this purpose.