“What do you tell them?” Lindsey asks.
“That I have a penis.”
Oh God. My cheeks burn as they all burst into laughter. Think about something else, Dolores. ANYTHING else. Cucumbers. Bananas. Zucchini. AHHHH! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I turn my face away from them as Calliope fakes a yakking sound.
“Definitely time to change the subject,” she says.
“Hey, are you guys hungry?” I blurt. SERIOUSLY? I’m so thankful that mind readers aren’t real.
“Starving,” Cricket says.
“Says the guy who just ate three taco salads,” Calliope says.
He rubs his stomach. His bracelets and rubber bands rattle. “Jealous.”
“It’s so unfair. Cricket eats all day long, the most horrendous things—”
“The most delicious,” he says.
“—the most horrendous and delicious things, and he doesn’t gain a pound. Meanwhile, I have to count calories every time I swallow an alfalfa sprout.”
“What?” Lindsey says. She’s as baffled as I am. “You’re in perfect shape. Like, perfect.”
Calliope rolls her eyes. “Tell that to my coach. And to the commentators.”
“And Mom,” Cricket says, and Calliope cuts him a glare. He glares back. It’s spooky to see that they have the same glare.
And then they burst into laughter. “I win!” Cricket says.
“No way.You laughed first.”
“Tie,” Lindsey says authoritatively.
“Hey.” Calliope turns to me, and the smile disappears. “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”
Oh. Holy. Graveyards.
I’ve been so thrown that I forgot Max would be here any second. I want to shove Cricket back behind that Hell’s Angel, and he looks like he wouldn’t mind a disappearing act either. Max slinks through the crowd like a wolf on the prowl. I raise my hand in a weak wave. He nods back, but he’s staring down Cricket.
Max pulls me into his tattooed arms. “How’d we sound?”
“Phenomenal,” I say truthfully. His grip is tight, forcing me to point out the well-dressed elephant in the room. “This is my neighbor Cricket. Remember?” As if any of us could have forgotten.
“Hi,” Cricket says, shrinking up.
“Hey,” Max says in a bored voice. Which isn’t even his regular bored voice. It’s the mask of a bored voice that says, See how much I don’t care about you?
“And this is his sister, Calliope.”
“We saw your show,” she says. “You were great.”
Max looks her over. “Thanks,” he says after a moment. It’s polite but indifferent, and his coolness disconcerts her. He turns back to me and frowns. “What are you wearing?”
The way he says it makes me not want to answer.
“She’s me,” Lindsey says.
Max finally acknowledges her presence. “So you must be Lola. Well. Can’t say I’ll be sorry when this holiday is over.”