"Actually," I said, "um, some of us were going to go out for pizza. You know, to celebrate the show being over, and all."

"Oh," my mom said. "Well, I know you must be exhausted, so don't stay out too long. Okay?"

I nodded as, behind her, I watched Mrs. Shuster reach out to Emily, handing her the coat and standing there, her face somber, as Emily shrugged it on. Then she slid her hand down her daughter's arm, rubbing it slightly, and they started toward the mall exit. I turned my attention back to my mother, quickly. "I won't be too late," I said.

"Eleven at the latest," my father said as he leaned down to give me a hug. "Right?"

"Right," I replied.

The entire time I was changing out of my outfit, then walking to my car and driving across town, I told myself I had to push what had happened with Emily out of my mind. I'd been looking forward to going to Bendo, and I was determined to enjoy it. Or try to.

Starting right now.

"So," I said as Owen turned back to the stage, "what'd I miss?"

"Not much," he replied as someone bumped me from behind. As I pitched forward he reached out, grabbing my arm. "Whoa," he said. "Watch the footing, this place is kind of a madhouse." There was a burst of feedback from the stage in front of us, and a group of people to our left let loose with a loud chorus of boos. Owen leaned his head down closer to my ear. "How was the fashion show?"

I didn't want to lie to him. At the same time, though, I knew I couldn't tell him what had really happened—not here, not tonight. Maybe not ever. "It's over," I replied, which was, technically, true.

"That good, huh?" he said as a tall girl in a sequined top, holding a drink, pushed past us, splattering as she went.

I smiled. "Pretty much."

"Well, never fear. When the band comes on, your night will improve."

"You think?"

"I know," he said just as he got bumped, hard this time, by a guy in a black coat who was passing by, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Owen glanced at him, and the guy shrugged, hardly bothered, and kept walking. "Okay. Time for a space break. Come on."

He turned and started back through the crowd, and I did my best to follow him as he led me to an open booth against the wall.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing for me to slide in. "The view isn't as good, but at least no one's elbowing you in the spleen."

I could hear what sounded like someone tuning up, followed by a burst of feedback. "The opener," Owen said, nodding toward the stage. "They were supposed to go on a half hour ago, but—"

This thought was interrupted by Rolly, who suddenly slid in beside him, landing with a thump on the bench. "Oh," he said, breathless, "my God."

"Finally," Owen said, turning to look at him. "Where the hell have you been, man? I was beginning to think you'd been abducted or something."

"No," Rolly replied. "You are not going to believe what just happened."

"He went to get drinks about a half hour ago," Owen explained to me. "I mean, I know the crowd is big, but that's ridiculous. And where's my water?"

Rolly shook his head. "Dude. She's here."

"What?"

Rolly took in a breath, then held up his hands, palms facing out. "She's here, "he said again. Then he paused, letting this sink in before adding, "She's here, and she smiled at me."

"For thirty minutes?" Owen asked.

"No. Only for a moment."

"This is the girl that punched you?" I asked, clarifying.

"Yes."

"I can't believe you didn't get my water," Owen said.

"Would you just forget about that for a second?" Rolly pulled a hand through his hair. "I don't think you're getting the significance of this situation."

"So you talked to her," Owen said.

"No. Here's what happened." Rolly took a deep breath. "I was on my way to the bar and then, suddenly, there she was. Boom! Popped up right in front of me, like an apparition or something. But just as I'm about to speak to her, someone steps between us. And the next thing I know, she's gone, walking away, surrounded by people. Since then I've been hanging back, waiting for the perfect in to present itself. I mean, it has to be just right."

"Why don't you offer to go get her a water?" Owen suggested. "You can pick up one for me while you're at it."

Rolly just looked at him. "What is up with you and this water thing?"

"I'm thirsty," Owen told him. "And I was going to go, but you offered. Insisted, I might add."

"I will get you a water!" Rolly said. "But first, if you don't mind, I'd like to meet my destiny in the most ideal way possible."

There was another burst of feedback from the stage. Owen sighed. "Look," he said, "maybe you should just forget about the ideal moment."

Rolly just looked at him. "I'm not following," he said.

"It's taken a long time for you to see her again, right?"

Owen said. "And who knows how much longer until the perfect moment. Maybe you should just do it. That way—"

Rolly's eyes widened, suddenly. "Oh, shit," he said. "There she is."

Owen leaned out of the booth slightly. "Where?"