empty-stomach buzz began to take hold of my brain.
The party's edges softened around me, and I started to
see imperfections in my fellow
penguins' bow ties. All that individuality being expressed, according to Emily
Post. Or had I gone with Vanderbilt? I couldn't remember, which seemed like a
bad sign.
Perhaps my anxiety didn't have to do with Mandy's
disappearance, the potential dangers of the anti-client, the pretensions of the hoi aristoi, or even the mysteries of Jen's
affections. It wasn't even low blood sugar. It was much simpler than that.
I was alone at a parry.
No one likes to feel left out. Like the small herd of
stuffed impalas gazing sightlessly across the room toward me, I was a social
animal. And here I was standing in a tuxedo, holding a gift bag and an empty
glass of orange juice, feeling alone among a bunch of people I didn't know and
instinctively didn't like.
Where was Jen? I thought of calling her but didn't
really have anything to report yet. It just looked like any other launch party
so far.
At this point I would have settled for a glimpse of
the bald guy, even NASCAR Man or Future Woman. Hiding or fleeing would be
better than standing around alone. Anything to give me a purpose.
Another tray went by, carrying something that looked
like food, and I followed it.
The tray led me down a short hall toward the
outer-space section of the museum. The planetarium rose up before me, a huge
white globe on curved legs, as awe inspiring as an alien spaceship. Yet as so
often happens in museums, I was thinking about food. I plowed after the tray,
not catching the white-coated caterer until he was mobbed by a small and hungry
crowd.
The tray was covered with sushi experiments gone awry,
tiny towers of fish eggs and multicolored tentacles, something that
nonmetaphorical penguins might eat. Not exactly what I'd been hunting for, but
I grabbed a pair of what looked like plain rice balls and stuffed one into my
mouth. Something inside it exploded into saltiness and fishiness, a sushi booby
trap. I swallowed anyway, then inhaled the second.
My mouth was so full that I couldn't scream when a certain
bald-headed man stepped up next to me.
Chapter
16
"MRRF," I SAID IN ALARM.
He muttered something incoherent, his eyes drifting
past me.
I swallowed the rice ball in a solid, choking clump.
He kept muttering, and gradually I realized that he
wasn't muttering at me. A thin black headset stretched in front of his mouth,
and his eyes had the faraway look of the homeless and the wireless. He was on a
hands-free phone, and his gaze went straight through me.
With my blond hair and penguin suit, I was invisible.
I turned and took a few steps away, the tight fist of
nerves in my mostly empty stomach slowly unclenching, no longer threatening to
squeeze the swallowed-whole sushi back up. I continued toward the planetarium,
trying to take even steps, until a hanging beach-ball-sized model of Saturn
presented itself.
I ducked behind the planet and counted to ten, waiting
for his bald head to appear, another five goons behind him wearing headsets and
predatory smiles.
But he didn't come, and I dared a glimpse.
He stood in the same spot, still talking on his
headset. He was a non-penguin, dressed in the all black of security personnel
and surveying the crowd, clearly on the lookout.
For me.
I smiled. Jen's disguise had worked. He hadn't
connected the new non-Hunter with the skater kid he'd seen this morning.
Still, walking back past him seemed like pushing my
luck. I looked ahead for another section of the party to explore. In front of
me the planetarium was admitting a steady stream of partyers into its maw. A
sign announced continuous showings of the new TV ad for Poo-Sham. Inside it
would be dark, and I could recover my cool in a familiar focus-group-like
setting. Watching advertisements was something I was good at.
I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the
hanging planet, striding purposefully toward
The party's edges softened around me, and I started to
see imperfections in my fellow
penguins' bow ties. All that individuality being expressed, according to Emily
Post. Or had I gone with Vanderbilt? I couldn't remember, which seemed like a
bad sign.
Perhaps my anxiety didn't have to do with Mandy's
disappearance, the potential dangers of the anti-client, the pretensions of the hoi aristoi, or even the mysteries of Jen's
affections. It wasn't even low blood sugar. It was much simpler than that.
I was alone at a parry.
No one likes to feel left out. Like the small herd of
stuffed impalas gazing sightlessly across the room toward me, I was a social
animal. And here I was standing in a tuxedo, holding a gift bag and an empty
glass of orange juice, feeling alone among a bunch of people I didn't know and
instinctively didn't like.
Where was Jen? I thought of calling her but didn't
really have anything to report yet. It just looked like any other launch party
so far.
At this point I would have settled for a glimpse of
the bald guy, even NASCAR Man or Future Woman. Hiding or fleeing would be
better than standing around alone. Anything to give me a purpose.
Another tray went by, carrying something that looked
like food, and I followed it.
The tray led me down a short hall toward the
outer-space section of the museum. The planetarium rose up before me, a huge
white globe on curved legs, as awe inspiring as an alien spaceship. Yet as so
often happens in museums, I was thinking about food. I plowed after the tray,
not catching the white-coated caterer until he was mobbed by a small and hungry
crowd.
The tray was covered with sushi experiments gone awry,
tiny towers of fish eggs and multicolored tentacles, something that
nonmetaphorical penguins might eat. Not exactly what I'd been hunting for, but
I grabbed a pair of what looked like plain rice balls and stuffed one into my
mouth. Something inside it exploded into saltiness and fishiness, a sushi booby
trap. I swallowed anyway, then inhaled the second.
My mouth was so full that I couldn't scream when a certain
bald-headed man stepped up next to me.
Chapter
16
"MRRF," I SAID IN ALARM.
He muttered something incoherent, his eyes drifting
past me.
I swallowed the rice ball in a solid, choking clump.
He kept muttering, and gradually I realized that he
wasn't muttering at me. A thin black headset stretched in front of his mouth,
and his eyes had the faraway look of the homeless and the wireless. He was on a
hands-free phone, and his gaze went straight through me.
With my blond hair and penguin suit, I was invisible.
I turned and took a few steps away, the tight fist of
nerves in my mostly empty stomach slowly unclenching, no longer threatening to
squeeze the swallowed-whole sushi back up. I continued toward the planetarium,
trying to take even steps, until a hanging beach-ball-sized model of Saturn
presented itself.
I ducked behind the planet and counted to ten, waiting
for his bald head to appear, another five goons behind him wearing headsets and
predatory smiles.
But he didn't come, and I dared a glimpse.
He stood in the same spot, still talking on his
headset. He was a non-penguin, dressed in the all black of security personnel
and surveying the crowd, clearly on the lookout.
For me.
I smiled. Jen's disguise had worked. He hadn't
connected the new non-Hunter with the skater kid he'd seen this morning.
Still, walking back past him seemed like pushing my
luck. I looked ahead for another section of the party to explore. In front of
me the planetarium was admitting a steady stream of partyers into its maw. A
sign announced continuous showings of the new TV ad for Poo-Sham. Inside it
would be dark, and I could recover my cool in a familiar focus-group-like
setting. Watching advertisements was something I was good at.
I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the
hanging planet, striding purposefully toward
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