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“Hello, everyone, and welcome to our very first weekly karaoke night!” says Carlos, speaking into a microphone that Trish brought with her. “I’m Carlos and I run this joint. I really appreciate your business and hope you all have a fun time tonight. Don’t be shy. We’re all friends here, so come on up and give it your best! With that, I’m pleased to introduce our karaoke host, Trish Roxby.”

There’s a smattering of applause as Trish takes the mic and Carlos starts to head back to the kitchen.

“Whoa, whoa, aren’t you gonna sing?” Trish says.

Carlos turns around, eyes wide with horror. He chuckles lightly. “Maybe next week?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” says Trish.

“I saidmaybe,” says Carlos, retreating some more.

Trish grins at the restaurant patrons. “Hello, folks, I’m so excited to be here tonight. I know nobody ever likes to go first, so I’ll get this party started. Please do bring up those slips of paper and let me know whatyouwanna sing tonight, otherwise you’ll be stuck listening to me for the next three hours.”

She punches something into her machine and a guitar riff blares through the speakers—Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll.”

I try not to groan, but… come on. How am I supposed to focus on finishing this paper withthatplaying in the background? This is a restaurant, not a rock concert.

“So, uh, this is unexpected,” says Jude.

“I know,” says Ari, nodding appreciatively. “She’s really good.”

“Not that,” says Jude, elbowing me in the side. “Pru, look. It’sQuint.”

FOUR

My head bolts up. For a second I’m sure Jude is playing a practical joke on me. But no—there he is. Quint Erickson, loitering next to theSEAT YOURSELFsign just inside the doorway. He’s with a girl I don’t recognize—Asian, petite, with her hair tied in two messy buns behind her ears. She’s wearing denim shorts and a faded T-shirt that has a picture of Bigfoot on it with the wordsHIDE-AND-SEEK WORLD CHAMPIONprinted underneath.

Unlike Quint, who is watching Trish sing her heart out, the girl is engrossed by something on her phone.

“Whoa,” says Ari, leaning over the table and lowering her voice, even though there’s no way anyone can hear us over Trish Roxby’s guttural demand to put another coin in the jukebox, baby. “That’s Quint?TheQuint?”

I frown. “What do you mean,theQuint?”

“What? He’s all you’ve talked about this year.”

A laugh escapes me, harsh and humorless. “He is not!”

“He kind of is,” says Jude. “I don’t know which of us is more excited for summer to start. You, so you won’t have to deal with him anymore, or me, so I don’t have to listen to you complain about him.”

“He’s cuter than I imagined,” says Ari.

“Oh yeah, he’s a stud,” says Jude. “Everyone loves Quint.”

“Only because his ridiculousness appeals to the lowest common denominator of society.”

Jude snorts.

“Besides”—I lower my voice—“he’s not that attractive. Those eyebrows.”

“What do you have against his eyebrows?” says Ari, looking at me as if maybe I should be ashamed for suggesting such a thing.

“Please. They’re huge,” I say. “Plus, his head is a weird shape. It’s, like… square.”

“Biased much?” mutters Ari, shooting me a teasing look that crawls straight beneath my skin.

“I’m just saying.”

I won’t relent on this point. It’s true that Quint is notunattractive. I know this. Anyone with eyes knows this. But there’s no elegance to his features. He has boring, nondescript, basic brown eyes, and while I’m sure he must have eyelashes, they’ve never once caught my attention. And with his perpetual suntan, short wavy hair, and that idiotic grin of his, he pretty much looks like every other surfboard-loving boy in town. Which is to say, completely forgettable.