Page 53 of Come As You Are

Heather shakes her head, smiling. “You two were definitely meant to become friends.”

We find seats inside, and thankfully, Lucas is nowhere to be found. Next to me, Heather is texting him, but there aren’t any free seats near us, and hopefully that won’t be changing any time soon.

The room quiets down as Hoffman takes the stage. “Welcome, everybody, to the seventh annual Camden AcademyTalent Show!” There’s lots of applause, some whistling, and an a cappella outburst that does not portend good things to come. “Can we have everyone named Michael please stand up?”

A few confused looks are exchanged, but finally, a few guys stand up, including one I recognize from Rumson.

“Great, thank you—that concludes the Mike check.”

The groans drown out whatever few laughs there might’ve been, but Hoffman doesn’t look remotely fazed. “We have so many great acts to come tonight, so let’s get started! Quite literally kicking us off, as always, we have the Camden Academy Dance Team, led by Captain Ashleigh Cartwright!”

The cheering goes wild as the team gets into position, and Ash is front and center, looking absolutely stunning—her warm brown skin glows with glitter, her long dark curls are gathered on her head, and her white crop top shows off abs that belong in a museum. Landon’s hollering is the loudest, and I turn to see him sitting at the back with Matt, Salem, Jenna, Isabel, Priya, and Sebastian Giang, the hot basketball player from the club fair. It’s weird to see Salem sitting with that crowd, but at least I can pretend for a minute that it’s because he wants to hang out with his roommate and not because he’s going to abandon me completely for his hot, popular girlfriend.

I exchange a wave with Isabel, letting her know I’ve arrived, and then the music kicks up and I turn back, not wanting to miss a minute. Ashleigh is phenomenal; I had no idea her body could move like that, but I sense Landon is an extremely lucky man. By the time they finish up, in a pose that shouldn’t be physically possible, half the room is on its feet,and I’m pretty sure everyone feels bad for whoever has to follow that.

Turns out, that honor belongs to 10/10, No Notes, the school’s premier a cappella group, which absolutely slays a Taylor Swift medley. Then there’s a juggler, followed by a gymnast, followed by Henry the Rumson clarinetist, and then Jesse goes up there for his “stand-up” act, which is spot-on but also silly. Priya follows that with an Adele cover that has my jaw on the floor. By the time Hoffman takes the stage again, I’m having such a good time that I forget I’m performing until I hear Isabel’s and my names.

Oh God.What have I done? I do not want to perform in front of all these people, actually! This is not even a cool thing to do! What was I thinking?

“Stop freaking out,” Isabel mutters in my ear as she wraps an arm around my waist and steers me up to the stage. “You’re annoyingly good at this. Just smile and have fun. There is literally nothing riding on success here.”

Okay, she has a good point. I adjust the bottom of the blazer I borrowed from Priya, taking care to make sure the lace corset from my mall outing with Salem is being nicely displayed, and then I step up to introduce myself. But before I can, Isabel beats me to the mic, and the mere sight of her in her glittery bodysuit and heels has the room exploding with whistles and applause.

Weirdly, it takes a lot of the edge off to be reminded that as long as Isabel’s up there in next to nothing, no one really cares what I do. So when she sweeps her arm in my direction and says, “Ladies and gentlefolk, please allow me tointroduce the Magnificent Everett Riley,” I’m actually feeling relaxed enough to smile, wave, and curtsy in my little shorts.

From across the room, I catch Salem’s eye and see him biting his lip as he tries not to laugh, and I can’t help winking.

“As some of you know,” I announce into the mic, “though I couldn’t possibly say how—so random, right?—I have a particular skill with cards.” A couple of the Rumson guys who’ve lost way too much money to me boo from the back, and the portion of the crowd that knows exactly why laughs. “As such, the cards are only happy to do what I tell them.”

I do a riffle shuffle of a new deck I purchased on my condom run as I talk, and then cut the deck with one hand, sweeping it into two individual, impressive fans. There’s some polite oohing to start with, but as I run through a series of flourishes and twirls, I see people start to crane their necks for better views.

“I believe you all know my lovely assistant, Isabel McEvoy.” I combine the cards into a single deck and sweep them into a thumb fan that I extend in her direction. It took me hours of practice to master that one, and I’m gratified when it works beautifully, even if I’m well aware the applause is for the strawberry blonde next to me and not because of the seamlessness with which I just displayed every card in the deck in my small hand. “Isabel, would you please pick a card?”

She prances over and bends to eye it closely, which has even more necks craning from the audience. Finally, she selects a card, and I dramatically cover my eyes while she shows it to the audience.

“Three of hearts!” yells out a voice from the back I’m pretty sure belongs to my dear friend Archie.

“Seven of spades!” adds another one—Duncan, I’m almost positive.

A few more voices yell out random cards, and it takes everything in me not to let it mess with my concentration. “If the gentlemen in the back could kindly shut their pieholes!” I declare cheerfully, grateful that Isabel waits until they do before slipping the card back in.

I take note of the spot where she returned the card, and cut the deck accordingly. It’s a silly trick, one I’ve practiced with Isabel no fewer than ten times, and it drives her nuts that she can’t figure it out. I flash the bottom of the deck to her and show it to the audience. “Is this your card?”

“It is not!” she says triumphantly.

“All right, then! Let’s put that card down, and move one to the back of the deck.” We go through this for four more cards, and when we hit the last one, I offer a dramatic “Still no?” and Isabel shakes her head slowly and smugly, making the audience laugh.

Thank God I did not attempt to do this myself with a random volunteer, although it would’ve been fun to pick Salem or Sabrina, just to torture them.

Or Archie. I really would not mind torturing Archie. Would that I were at a level in cardistry where I could kill a man with a two of spades.

As if on cue, someone yells out from the audience, “Rumson Girl fucked up the trick!”

“Language!” calls a disembodied authoritative voice.

I could kill every single one of Archie’s friends right now, but thankfully, their cluelessness actually makes this a little more fun. “Oh no, did I?” I gasp dramatically as I take hold of the four face-down cards on the table and flip one over. “Isabel, are you telling methisis not your card?”

She holds it up for everyone to see. “It is not!”

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