ZACK: I mean, people were mostly happy they didn’t have to listen to Boney.
ISHAAN: With all due respect, Mr. G., the election is old news. Nobody needs it summarized. The burning question that everyone wants answered is: Where the hell is Boney? (Stares intensely into the camera.) Yesterday, he pledged to lead us into the future. But today— ZACK: Today he probably overslept.
ISHAAN: He did promise that if we elected him, he’d leave us alone. What none of us realized, perhaps, is that he meant it literally.
MR. G., with a long-suffering sigh: Come on, guys. You know the drill. No curse words, no nicknames, no speculation.
ZACK, quietly: No fun.
ISHAAN, slumping back in his seat: This show is wasting my talents.
MATEO
Ivy looks shocked, then outraged. “I can’t believe him!” she says as maybe-Boney disappears around a corner. I didn’t get a good look at the guy, but she seems sure. “He’s supposed to be giving a speech now!” Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. Did he abdicate? Am I president now?” She whips out her phone and stares at the screen. “Come on, Emily. You were texting up a storm five minutes ago. Where are you when I need you?”
“Maybe it wasn’t even him,” I say.
“Oh, it was him,” she mutters. “Unbelievable. You can’t miss assembly when you’re class president. Attendance is mandatory. It’s written into the school bylaws, or it would have been, if I’d been elected and the bylaws had passed.” She glares across the street, then starts walking with long, determined strides. “Come on. Let’s see where he’s going.”
“Who cares?” I ask, but that’s a pointless question. Obviously, she does.
I’m hoping the guy is out of sight by the time we turn the corner, but no such luck. We spot him instantly, and from this angle, I can see that Ivy was right—it’s definitely Boney, with his phone in one hand and a backpack dangling from his shoulder. We trail him down another two streets until he stops in front of a loft-style building with a bright green door. He fiddles with something beside the door, then pulls it open and steps inside.
“Hold on.” Cal grabs Ivy’s arm as she tries to follow. “You can’t just walk in. There’s a security code.”
She blinks at him. “What? How do you know?”
“So…this building…” Cal runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting everywhere except at us. “You know that person I mentioned before, the one I’ve been seeing lately? Her art studio is in here.”
“Studio?” I ask. “She has an art studio?”
“Well, it’s not actually hers,” Cal says. “A friend rents it and lets her work there sometimes. The building’s up for sale, so the tenants were supposed to clear out last month, but a few of them are still using the space.” Ivy inhales sharply, and Cal’s skittering glance finally lands on her. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.”
“There’s no way it’s fine,” Ivy says, frowning. “If my dad bought this building, he’d definitely have a problem with former tenants squatting here.”
She has a point, but she might be missing a bigger one. “Cal,” I say. “Is this girl not in high school?”
“Not technically,” Cal says.
“She’s in college?” I ask, trying not to sound as surprised as I feel. I never would’ve pegged Cal for the kind of guy who’d go for an older girl. Or have an older girl go for him.
“Look, can we just…” Cal glances around again. “She’s actually going to be here any minute. She’s always here on Tuesdays, right at ten o’clock. It’s, like, routine with her, because she says the light is perfect then. And it’s going to be super awkward if she sees me.”
“Why?” Ivy asks. “Does she know Boney?” Her voice lowers in sympathy, and she puts a hand on Cal’s arm. “Is this a love-triangle situation?”
“No!” He shakes her off. “Can we just—move on? Visit the penguins. We should’ve started there.”
Ivy crosses her arms. “We can do that after I talk to Boney. Give me the code.”
“I…I don’t know it,” Cal says, looking over his shoulder. It’s such an obvious lie that even I’m not fooled.
“Give me the code,” Ivy repeats. “Then you can slink off and hide. Otherwise, I’m going to force you to stand in the middle of the street until your girlfriend shows up and things get, as you put it, super awkward.”
Cal makes a strangled sound and chokes out “Five eight three two” as if the numbers are being yanked from his throat. Then he ducks into an alley like some kind of fugitive as Ivy takes off toward the green door.
“Cal, what the hell?” I look up and down the street—no mystery girl in sight—before following him. If this entire situation weren’t so weird, I’d laugh at the sight of him pressed into the alcove of a doorway. “What’s your problem? Why can’t she see you?”
Cal licks his lips nervously. “It’s not that, so much. It’s more like she can’t see you.”
“Me?” Now I’m beyond confused. “Why not?”