I just stare at Sophie, heart still pounding. “That’s your emergency?”
All three of the girls nod cheerfully.
“You need me to come with you to the mall?”
“What?” Sophie wrinkles her nose. “No, we need a ride.”
Maddie and Andrea giggle, and my cheeks go warm. Awesome. Sophie barges into my room uninvited, pretty much implying someone died, and somehow she’s acting like it’s sad pathetic Jamie trying to bust in on their mall trip. Which, frankly, sounds like actual torture, and not something I’d ever willingly do. But of course I’m now being laughed at by tweens, which is definitely making me flash back to middle school. And flash forward to the inevitable trauma of the bat mitzvah toast. Double the fun.
“So can you drive us?” Sophie asks.
I glance down at my slept-in T-shirt and mesh gym shorts. “Right this second?”
“Well, we have to be there at eleven thirty,” Sophie says matter-of-factly, “because Tessa likes this guy Daniel who works at Sbarro on Saturdays, and his shift starts at eleven, but we can’t show up right at the beginning of his shift, or it will be really obvious. But everything gets really busy with the lunch crowd at noon, so it really has to be eleven thirty!”
“And all of you need to be there to help Tessa flirt with this guy.” I look from Sophie to Maddie to Andrea.
“Exactly,” says Sophie.
“How old is this guy anyway?”
“Fifteen,” says Andrea.
I raise my eyebrows. “And Tessa’s twelve?”
“She’s thirteen,” says Sophie, “and Daniel thinks she’s fourteen, so—”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
Sophie frowns. “Don’t be judgmental.”
I grimace. “If I were to drive you—if—what time would you need to be picked up?”
“Oh my God, Jamie, you’re the best!” Sophie bounces on the balls of her feet. “Maybe two? But you have to stay at the mall while we’re there. You know I’m not allowed to hang out there alone.”
I gape at her. “Okay, you just said—”
“So we really have to leave in five minutes,” Sophie says, shrugging. “You better get dressed fast.”
Five minutes into our eight-minute car ride, and I officially know how I’ll die.
It will be death by bat mitzvah toast. The first recorded case of someone’s heart actually combusting from mortification. And I do mean recorded, because we all know Sophie’s friends are going to film it. You’re welcome, choking YouTube kid—future me is going to make you look like John F. Kennedy.
Because groups of middle school girls? Are as terrifying as I remembered. More terrifying, even. And they ask so many questions.
“Jamie, did you go to Riverview?” Maddie asks as I pull onto Ashford Dunwoody.
“Yeah—”
“Did you have Ms. Williams?”
“Or Ms. Finnigan?” chimes Andrea.
“I don’t . . . think so.”
“Okay, so what’s better?” Maddie leans forward. “Eighth grade or ninth grade?”
“Neither,” I say, and Maddie and Andrea both burst out laughing.
“You’re so funny, Jamie.”
“Sophie, you’re so lucky,” says Andrea. “My sister never even talks to me. She’s obsessed with her phone.”
“Jamie’s so nice,” Maddie adds, like I’m not sitting directly in front of her.
“I know.” Sophie smiles smugly at me from the passenger seat. “I trained him well.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” asks Maddie.
“Um—”
“Oh my God,” Andrea says. “I found out who Vanessa hooked up with!”
“Seriously? Who?” Sophie’s seat belt strains as she whirls around to face them. And just like that, I’m blissfully forgotten, in favor of a very detailed discussion of Vanessa’s hookup with someone’s hot cousin. I just tune it out, easing Alfie through the parking deck.
The second I park, all three girls leap from the car like it’s on fire. By the time I turn off the engine, they’re halfway to the mall entrance.
I lean back against my seat, just happy to be alone.
Until it occurs to me that I’m now stuck at the mall for two and a half hours. One hundred and fifty minutes. Is it weird that I could easily make that much time pass in Target, but I don’t even know how to kill half an hour here? The closest movie theater isn’t really walking distance, and even GameStop’s kind of meh when you’re not there to spend a gift card. Honestly, everything’s meh compared to the day I thought I’d be having—canvassing with Maya, maybe hitting up the patio section afterward . . .
I tap into my text chain with Maya, realizing with a start that I never pressed send on that Bruce Bogtrotter GIF this morning. So I send it now. I mean, Bruce Bogtrotter is always relevant.