me there or not. Wasn't that what good girlfriends did? Not that I was his girlfriend...
Whatever. I was his friend, and I was dying to find out how it went. I jumped up and grabbed my phone to text him, but it rang before I could even open it.
"Hello?"
"Cara? It's Archer!"
I could barely hear him over a chorus of voices screaming along to Madonna's "Holiday."
"Archer? Hey! How did it go?"
"Great ... I think!" he shouted, then his voice muted a bit as he said, "You guys, come on..." Then I heard him more clearly. "So, um ... how's everything going?"
"Oh, for God's sake..." a voice rang out.
"Hey!" a muffled Archer cried. "Give it back!"
"Cara, it's Ember. We're done with auditions, we're going mini-golfing, and we're picking you up. Give me your address and I'll put it in my GPS."
Ember? Mini-golfing? Now?
"Cara?" Her tone made it clear that obedience was my only option.
"Oh. Sorry, um ... four-eighteen Avery Lane."
"Cool. We're five minutes away. Meet us out front."
She clicked off.
Five minutes? I looked at myself in the mirror: a shapeless blob of filthy old sweats, with sticky smears of chocolaty peanut butter glued to my face from licking the bowl. And peanut butter breath, no doubt. Disaster. I lost a full minute gaping at the horror, then raced to wash my face, brush my teeth, and change before zooming out front just as Ember's battered SUV scraped against the curb. I opened the door to the back seat and was blown backwards by the insanely loud music.
"Postaudition eighties sing-along!" Ember cried. "Get in!"
I wanted to ... but there didn't seem to be any room. Ember was in the driver's seat, Archer in the passenger seat, and Sue, Doug, Molly, and Dinah were crammed onto the back seat. Even the cargo area was filled with Tom's massive bulk and the wiry frame of Noah.
"I, um ... I don't think I can," I said.
"Of course you can!" Ember shouted over the music. "Just sit on Archer's lap!"
Archer turned red.
"Is that really safe?" I asked.
"No, it's not safe," Sue told Ember. She turned to me and smiled apologetically. "I told her it wasn't safe. Maybe another time?"
"Sure," I said. "It's good to see you, though." I really hadn't seen Sue since she'd switched lunch tables.
"Good to see you, too," she said. "Bye!"
"Come on, Cara. You'll be fine," Noah said. "Tom and I don't even have seat belts back here, and we're not worried, right?"
"Exactly," Tom said, "because Ember is an excellent driver."
Huge eruption of laughter from everyone in the car, including Ember herself. I smiled uncomfortably.
"That's okay," I said. "Thanks for thinking of me."
"No—here," Archer said, clicking off his belt. "Take my seat."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes! Excellent idea!" cried Doug. He rose and patted his seat. "Plant your tush right here, Archer. I'll sit on your lap."
Archer squeezed between Sue and Molly. Doug settled in on top of him. I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in.
"Ooh, Archer!" Doug cooed as we jounced down the street. "Is that a pencil in your pocket, or have I just made your wildest fantasies come true?"
"Pencil?" Sue objected.
"Are you saying you'd know otherwise?" Doug asked.
Sue didn't answer.
"'Lovecats'!" Ember screamed. She turned the radio even louder and bounced in her seat as some eighties song I didn't know shrieked from the speakers. Everyone else sang along at the top of their lungs, completely unconcerned that Ember's seat-dancing took her mind off the car, which veered unsteadily in and out of our lane. I gripped my seat and wondered if there'd be a socially acceptable way to call a cab to get home.
By the time we got to the mini-golf course a half hour later, I was indebted to the gods of at least seven different religions, all of whom I had silently promised my immortal soul if I survived the ride.
"You okay?" Archer asked once we were safely in the parking lot.
"I'm great." At least I would be after a few more gulps of fresh air.
"Loser pays for ice cream?" Tom asked.
"Um ... I'm not really good at mini-golf," I said.
"This is different," Archer said. "We play for style. The most unique putt that sinks a ball wins each hole."
"Oh." Somehow I didn't find that comforting.
I was right to be worried. Archer and his friends had been playing this game for years. They were experts at finding truly bizarre ways to sink a mini-golf ball. They'd putt behind their backs; they'd lie down and shoot the ball