‘They’re my first love,’ he said. ‘I can’t be objective.’
Elena hugged herself. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever see them. I feel like I’d be letting my dad down. Like he’s going to show up some day, and ask whether I’ve seen Attack of the Clones, and if I say yes, he’ll take off again.’
Gabe looked like he was thinking. ‘So . . .’ he said, ‘you won’t mind if I spoil them for you.’
‘I guess not,’ she said. ‘I mean, I already know what happens.’
Gabe sat up straight and held both hands up between them. ‘Turmoil has engulfed the Great Republic . . .’
When Troy woke up from his nap, he didn’t even ask what they were doing. He just joined in. His Yoda impression was uncanny.
‘I knew you hadn’t seen the prequels,’ Troy confided in Elena. ‘There were some pretty obvious gaps in your understanding of the Galactic Senate.’
Troy’s girlfriend, Sandra, brought them all pizza that night, and when she got there she joined the dramatic re-enactment. She said they had to rewind so she could elaborate for Elena on how dashing Obi-Wan was. ‘Ewan McGregor,’ she groaned. ‘I made Troy grow a beard after the second movie.’
‘I also grew a Padawan braid,’ Troy said.
Troy and Sandra and Gabe acted out a lightsaber battle that brought tears to Elena’s eyes, probably because they were all three singing the John Williams music. (Elena knew the prequel music; she’d listened to all the scores.) Some movie-goers stopped on their way out of the theater to watch. Elena snapped a photo when Gabe fell to the ground. (#Epic #KnightFall #OnLine) Everyone clapped.
When the crowd cleared, Elena noticed her mom parked at the curb. Elena jumped up and ran over.
‘Are you coming home?’ her mom asked.
‘Nope,’ Elena said. ‘Do you want to get in line?’
‘No way. You get this craziness from your dad, not me.’
The night was clear and cold. Sandra had talked Manager Mark into refilling Elena’s hot-water bottle at the coffee machine. Elena hugged it under her sleeping bag.
‘Hey,’ Gabe said, ‘I got you something.’
‘What?’
He handed her a movie-theater cup, one of the new Star Wars ones. ‘Tonight you can pee in a collector’s item.’
‘Ha ha,’ Elena said. ‘Did we eat all the cupcakes?’
Gabe handed her the box. There was one left. A very lonely C-3PO. Elena picked up her phone and took a photo of it. Then went to Instagram. #LastDroidStanding
Her phone battery was still seventy per cent charged, and she only had twenty-four hours to get through, so Elena decided to indulge herself by thumbing through her Instagram feed, reading the comments on her posts from the last few days.
Her friends had all hearted them and left funny comments. God, Elena missed her friends. (Not that Troy and Gabe weren’t great. She’d definitely miss them.) (Even Gabe.) (Especially Gabe.) Her first post, from Monday, had the most comments. The photo of the line.
‘Is that Gabe?’ someone had posted.
‘GABERS.’
‘It’s Geekle!’ Elena’s friend Jocelyn had posted. ‘ICKLE GEEKLE.’
Geekle? Elena thought.
She quickly texted Jocelyn: ‘Who’s Geekle?’
‘Geekle!’ Jocelyn texted back. ‘From Spanish class. He sits at the back. He’s kind of geeky.’
‘Is that why you call him Geekle?’
‘IDK,’ Jocelyn sent. ‘ICKLE GEEKLE. Tell him I said hi.’
Elena looked at Gabe. He did look sort of familiar. Now that she thought about it. Jocelyn had nicknames for everyone, usually mean ones. Ickle Geekle, whatever that meant, was mild. Jocelyn herself wasn’t very mean, once you got to know her. She just thought she was funnier than she actually was. And she couldn’t stand silence. She’d fill every second with stupid jokes.
Gabe. From Spanish class. Elena pictured him without his peacoat . . . While she was staring, Gabe took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
‘You don’t wear glasses!’ she blurted.
‘What?’ he said, putting his glasses back on.
‘In school,’ she said. ‘You don’t wear glasses.’
Gabe’s face fell. ‘No. I don’t.’
Gabe. Geekle. His Spanish name was Gabriel. She’d never talked to him; she’d never really looked at him. (Which sounded worse than it was—Elena didn’t go around looking at people. She minded her own business!) This was bad. This was very bad.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘I didn’t recognize you.’
‘Why would you?’ he said.
‘We’re in class together!’
‘You apparently never noticed. There’s no crime there.’
‘Did you recognize me?’
Gabe turned to look at her. ‘Of course.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘We’ve been in school together for four years.’
‘I don’t know very many people.’
‘Why should you?’ he said. ‘You’ve got your clique.’
That was true, but not the way he was saying it. ‘We’re not a clique,’ she said.
‘Gang, then.’
‘Gabe.’
‘Army?’
‘Why do you dislike us so much?’
‘Because you’re jerks,’ he said. ‘Because you call me Geekle—what does that even mean?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t call you that!’
‘Because you don’t know I exist!’
‘I know now,’ she said.
Gabe started to say something, then shook his head.
‘Jocelyn has a big mouth,’ Elena said. ‘She’s harmless.’
‘To you,’ Gabe said. ‘You guys think you’re so far above everyone else.’
‘I don’t think that.’
‘You walk around in a clump, looking all cute and matchy, and throw your clever little insults down on us plebes—’
‘We never intentionally match!’ Elena said.
‘Whatever!’
They both sat back, arms crossed.
‘It’s not like that,’ Elena said. ‘We’re not a clique. We’re just friends.’
Gabe huffed. ’Do you know why I know you and your friends? But you don’t know me and my friends?’
‘Why?’
‘Because we don’t get in your way. We don’t have nicknames for you, and if we did, we wouldn’t shout them every day when you walked into Spanish.’
‘That’s just Jocelyn,’ Elena said.
‘That’s your whole vibe,’ Gabe said.
‘I don’t even have a vibe!’
‘Pfft!‘
‘So you hate me,’ she said. ‘You hated me before I even got in line.’
‘I didn’t hate you,’ he said. ‘You’re just . . . part of them.’
‘I’m also part of this,’ she said.
‘What’s this? Star Wars? I don’t have to like you because you like Star Wars. I don’t have to like every meathead with a stormtrooper tattoo.’
‘No,’ Elena said. ‘I’m part of this, part of the line.’
‘What does that count for?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it should count for something. Look, I’m sorry Jocelyn calls you names. She’s a loudmouth. She’s been a loudmouth since fourth grade. We’re all just used to her. And if you’ve noticed me at all at school, you’ve noticed that I don’t exactly reach out. I don’t talk to anybody in some of my classes. There’s nobody in my math class who could pick me out of a line-up.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘that I’ve never talked to you before. But you’ve never talked to me either. We’re talking now.’