“For you, jerk. Short skirt, no tights—easy access.”
He watches her progress. “All right. She’s in.”
I shiver as I study the partygoers.
“You okay?” he asks, shifting closer. “Want some cape?” He flings the tail end over my shoulders before I can answer.
“Thanks,” I say, fingering the flimsy fabric. “All better.”
“They don’t call me a superhero for nothing.”
We fall silent as a familiar laugh rings out from below, then Kellan jogs through the cemetery to greet the two beauty queens who have just stepped out of a cab curb side. They’re dressed in floor-length gowns, one red, one silver, with sashes and tiaras. One even has a bouquet of roses. We watch him sling an arm around each of their shoulders, grinning as he leads them toward the house.
I recognize them from parties last year—and if I’m not mistaken, the one in red appears on Crosbie’s bathroom list. “Don’t you, um…know her?” I ask, wincing as the girl in question giggles and tugs on Kellan’s tie.
“Not really,” Crosbie says, unconcerned.
They squeal in mock-terror as a chainsaw-wielding maniac charges the trio, and Kellan roars with laughter before pulling out his cell phone and trying to call someone. He frowns, hangs up, and quickly sends a text, waiting a moment for a reply that doesn’t come. Because I’d planned on walking home and wasn’t worried about getting separated from Marcela, I hadn’t even brought my phone. If Kellan’s texting to find out if I’ve bailed, he’s not going to get an answer.
“It doesn’t bother you?” I ask, when I notice Crosbie looking a little more tense than he had a minute earlier.
“Me?” he echoes. “No. Does it bother you?”
I think it’d bother me if my name appeared on the bathroom wall, but I don’t especially care that the girls are here. “No.”
He studies me for a second, then nods. “Good.”
A group of coeds arrives, clambering out of a limo, all but one dressed in a tight business suit, heels, and carrying a briefcase. A couple even clutch a newspaper. I toss back my head and laugh. “I’ve been wondering where they were.”
Crosbie frowns. “The businesswomen?”
I gesture to his costume. “The Lois Lanes.”
“Why didn’t you come as Lois?”
For a second my mind goes blank. Somehow I’d managed to forget I was sitting up on a tiny eave with Crosbie Lucas while he wore only spandex. Somehow I’d managed to forget I was awkward and uncomfortable. I’d even managed to forget that I’d promised myself one guilt-free night of anything goes. And now I’m remembering.
“I…” I try. “I don’t have a business suit.”
He blinks. He’s got very long eyelashes. For such a big guy, it’s an oddly endearing trait.
“But you had a red wig?”
“Well…no.”
He smiles faintly. “I prefer Thelma to Lois any day, anyway.”
“You do?”
“Yo! Cros!”
The sudden shout sends us scattering, as far as the eave will allow, anyway. We both whip our heads around to see a guy dressed as the Cat in the Hat peering out the window.
“What the fuck, Alex?” Crosbie mutters, running a hand over his face.
“Kellan’s looking for you. He’s got a couple of Miss Americas that want to say hi.”
My scalp itches under the cheap wig. “You should go,” I say. Now that whatever weird spell had been brewing is broken, I’m cold and my butt hurts. “I’m freezing, anyway.” I flash him a fake smile, then gesture for the Cat in the Hat to move aside as I clamber back through the window, my frozen limbs screeching as they unfold.
“Nora,” Crosbie says.
“Thanks for your help,” I tell him. “I can take it from here.” I step back as he comes through the window, pulling it closed.
“Get out,” he says to the Cat in the Hat.
“There you are!” comes a familiar voice. Crosbie looks pained and closes his eyes for a second, but when they reopen, he’s looking over my shoulder—at Clark Kent.
“We’re not supposed to be seen together,” Crosbie says. “We’re the same person, remember?”
“I thought you’d be happy to make an exception,” Kellan replies. “For Miss Maryland or Miss Louisiana?” Upon hearing their cue, the slightly tipsy beauty queens enter the room, doing their best formal waves and collapsing into each other as they giggle.
The Cat in the Hat and I share a look, then murmur our excuses as we leave the room.
“You doing okay, Nora?” Kellan asks.
“Just great,” I assure him.