The Best Night of Your (Pathetic) Life (26 page)

“I don’t know,” Winter said. “I had to do nudity and Dumpster dive. And the pay’s crap.”

Then she said, “Hey, you never wrote the first paragraph of a novel about Oyster Point High.”

“No,” I said. “I never did.” But I had a feeling I could
now, if I had to, and that it might even be a funny, happy novel, and not one about a school better left at the bottom of the ocean.

It was time. Patrick got in to drive Jill’s dad’s truck this time and everyone else got into the Airstream and that didn’t seem right so I hopped out and went to ride with Patrick.

“Hey, you,” he said, when I got in.

“You looked lonely,” I said.

“Always,” he said.

So we drove, and the sky above us was so black it was almost blue again, and with the windows down you could hear the stereo from the Flying Cloud blasting,
There goes Tokyo! Go! Go! Godzilla!

“We need to make a stop,” I said, and I pulled Mary out of my bag and held her up.

“Gotcha,” Patrick said, and he drove on, with what felt like new purpose.

When we stopped out front of Eleanor’s house, I got out and some of the others were hanging out of the Flying Cloud, saying “What’s going on?”

“Returning Mary to her rightful place,” I said, and I went to work on the weeds, clearing the path between the garden’s edge and the statue’s stone perch. I’d come back tomorrow to finish the job, but for now it was much improved. I took Mary and sat her back down on the stone and made the sign of the cross and tried to pray, but it was hard with the Blue Öyster Cult singing,
History shows again and again how nature points up the folly of man/Godzilla!

Barbone would be in school on Monday. The last week of school. And he’d have something to say about Dez, the Yeti,
the Flying Cloud, all of it. And then he’d be at Georgetown in a few months and I might bump into him on the streets one day. I’d try to hold my head high and accept that Georgetown was his fate and mine was mine.

And Lucas’s, too, which was sort of fun to think about. He’d texted me after he’d gone home, saying: SEE YOU SOON?

Something didn’t feel quite right about just leaving Mary there all alone, though.

“Hey, guys?” I called out to the Flying Cloud. A few faces came to the window again. “What do you say we give the Yeti a new home right here?” I nodded toward the grotto.

“Yeti on the Half Shell?” Dez asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Mary needs a friend.”

“Sure,” Dez said. “Why not?”

So they passed the Yeti through the window—it was heavier than I expected—and I put it in Eleanor’s garden and stepped back. It looked just right, like it might stop running after all.

I saluted the Yeti and gave Mary a pat on the head and got back into the truck with Patrick. Then we set out to find out whether Mullin had even missed the Flying Cloud, whether we’d be arrested or expelled, and whether any of us cared.

If I ever do a scavenger hunt again, I want these fine people on my team:

Sara Zarr, who would try to talk me out of shaving my eyebrows.

Siobhan Vivian, who would hand me the razor.

David Dunton at Harvey Klinger Agency, who would gamely act as if I looked great without eyebrows.

Nick, who would tell me that I did not.

Bob, who would lend me an eyebrow pencil.

Julie Strauss-Gabel, who would suggest that I re-do the pencil-eyebrows a few times, to get them just right.

And Liza Kaplan, who would quietly ride shotgun through all this eyebrow nonsense and somehow get us enough points to qualify.

Copious special points to Ellie, and to the makers of the University of Chicago Scavenger Hunt lists of years past, for providing inspiration.