A Drop of Night Read Free Page B

metaphorical mouthful of water. He’s doing one of those fake bro handshakes with Jules, all splayed fingers and fist bumps. Except Jules has no idea how bro handshakeswork, and I’m pleased to say the whole thing is failing miserably. Unfortunately, that seems to please Hayden, too, like the handshake is a test and Jules flubbing it up settles the hierarchy. Hayden turns to Will, grinning, ready to do the whole maneuver again. Will is completely oblivious. He grips Hayden’s hand, harder than looks comfortable, shakes it once, and goes back to gazing soulfully into the crowds.
    I stay on my suitcase. Stretch out my legs and give Hayden a death glare when he glances down at me. Now I look away, like he’s too boring even for glaring at. Try to visualize the files in the blue folder, lining everybody up in my head:
    Anouk Geneviève van Roijer-Peerenboom. Seventeen years old. Gymnast. Jerk. Speaks five languages fluently, has basic knowledge of eight more, nationally acknowledged teen academic studying art history at NYU. Recent graduate of St. Winifred’s Preparatory School in Manhattan. Can now also climb and scuba dive.
    Jules Makra. Seventeen. Graphic design student. San Diego, California. Won a prize for drawing a chair or something.
    Will Park. Seventeen. Engineering student fromCharleston, South Carolina. Has nice eyes.
    Hayden Maiburgh. Seventeen. Philosophy major at Cornell.That’s a joke. What does he philosophize about, weight lifting? Juice boxes? The plight of the one percent?
    The fifth kid isn’t here yet. Lilly Watts. Sixteen. Sun Prairie, Wisconsin.
    She arrives three minutes later, and I guess she walks up like a normal person, but it feelslike she explodes onto the scene like an anime character, blowing everyone backward in whooshy streaks. She’s short and plump. She looks like a hippie-indie American Girl come to life, feathers in hair, colored wristbands, a bedazzled leather jacket with fringes. Except she’s also carrying the most enormous hiker backpack I have ever seen. It dwarfs her. Towers over her head. Her nose is shiny, greasy looking.
    She takes one look at us propped against pillars and suitcases like a tear sheet straight out of Vogue and her eyes pop wide. “Oh my gosh .” She spreads her fingers, palms downward. “You guys. We’re going to France.”
    She does a little dance. Now she’s smiling right at me. “I was literally afraid today wasn’t Wednesday. I mean, I couldn’t find anyone, and this one time I slept all night andall day and missed an entire twenty-four hours, so I thought maybe I had slept through Wednesday and today was Thursday. I know, Seriously, Lilly? But I thought it. Hi!”
    She shakes Hayden’s hand because he’s closest, and she’s laughing and jabbering, and Hayden is smiling down at her a touch derisively. I wonder if Lilly notices.
    Now she’s talking to Jules. He jokes around. They blab. Lilly does one of those shoulder dip things and says “Ohhh, me, too!” and I imagine they’re talking about their mutual mastering of the blinding toothpaste-commercial smile.
    Lilly gets to Will. For a second she looks like she wants to hug his poor quiet self, but she tucks that thought back into a folder of good-deeds-for-later and instead grabs his hand in both of hers, beams at him, and tells him she loves his historically accurate coat. Right before she gets to me, I stand up.
    â€œHooray,” I say flatly. Do some jazz hands. “We’ve arrived. Where’s Dorf?”
    Lilly stops in her tracks. Everyone stares at me.
    â€œWe’re supposed to meet him here,” Hayden says.
    â€œDid anyone else totally fail at the climbing wall part of preliminaries?” Jules says.
    â€œHi,” Lilly says, and waves at me, a tiny, frantic motion.
    I pivot, scanning the faces flowing past. We’re right where we’re supposed to be, Terminal 4, Gate B-24.