a time, okay?"
Nobody listened. Girls were thrusting pens and Chi-Chi’s menus at him from all sides. The sopranos were the worst. Karen Sue Walters wanted Luke to sign her chest, I guess because she couldn’t find any paper.
But the altos weren’t behaving any better. I even saw Bored Liz—only she didn’t look so bored anymore—climb up over the hood of the car and fling her arms around Luke’s legs. He nearly lost his balance and fell, but Liz didn’t seem to care. She was sobbing into his pant legs, crying, "Luke! Oh, Luke! I love you!"
It was way pathetic. I have to admit, I was totally embarrassed for my gender.
But the girls weren’t the only ones. Even some of the guys were acting like complete fools. I heard this one guy in a John Deere baseball cap say to his friend, "I’m gonna get me an autograph and sell it on eBay!"
And Mr. Hall? Mr. Hall, a teacher who should have known better? He was the worst of all! He was screaming up at Luke, "Mr. Striker, Mr. Striker, would it be all right if I gave you the screenplay I've been working on? It’s a dramedy about a young man’s coming-of-age while working in the chorus of a major Broadway musical. I think you’d be perfect for the part!"
Only a couple of people in the parking lot were hanging back that I could see. One of them was Scott. He was leaning against his car, just watching, a pillar of sanity in a sea of total wackos.
I rushed over to him. I’d completely forgotten about the Geri Lynn thing. All I could think of was the fact that if somebody didn’t do something, and soon, Luke was going to be torn in two, just like Mel Gibson in
Braveheart
, only by his fans, not the British.
"Do you think we should call the police?" I asked Scott worriedly. "I mean, I don’t want to call the cops on my friends, but—"
But the only alternative I could see was trying to help Luke myself—except that I didn’t see how I could. I mean, the crowd around the car he was standing on was about ten people deep. No way was I going to be able to get to him. . . .
"Don’t worry," Scott said. "Already done."
I blinked up at him. "Already—you called the police?"
He held up his cell phone. Even as he winked at me, off in the distance I could hear the wail of a police siren.
"Oh, thank you," I said, feeling a huge wave of relief.
"So I take it he’s not really enrolled," Scott said, putting his cell phone back in his pocket.
"What?" I’d been watching a Chi-Chi’s waitress lunge for the autograph Luke had just given her. "Oh, no. He’s just doing research for a part."
"Do Lewis and those guys know?"
"Yeah. It was their idea."
Scott shook his head. "They’ll probably refuse to comment. Too bad. Still, this’ll make a great story."
The fact that Scott could think about the
Register
at a time like this made me think he wasn’t too concerned for Luke.
Or upset over the whole thing with Geri.
"Scott, I—"
I’m sorry about you and Geri Lynn
. That’s what I’d been going to say.
Except that right then three different things happened. The first was that a Duane County squad car pulled into the parking lot, its siren blaring. The second was that a long black limo—the same one, I guess, that picked Luke up from school every day—appeared from behind the restaurant, almost as if it had been there all along.
And the third was that Geri Lynn came running up to us, her eyes shining.
"Can you believe this?" she wanted to know. "I’m killing myself that nobody’s got a camera. Something finally happens in this hick town, and we've got no way to record it!"
I couldn’t tell if she’d managed to ask Luke to the Spring Fling or not. I was guessing not, as the crowd around him was still pretty thick. A lot of people had backed off at the sight of the squad car, and even more were milling away as the police officer, who was a really big guy, strolled confidently into the fray. Still, Luke hadn’t gotten down from the top of the car.
"If only Kwang
Nobody listened. Girls were thrusting pens and Chi-Chi’s menus at him from all sides. The sopranos were the worst. Karen Sue Walters wanted Luke to sign her chest, I guess because she couldn’t find any paper.
But the altos weren’t behaving any better. I even saw Bored Liz—only she didn’t look so bored anymore—climb up over the hood of the car and fling her arms around Luke’s legs. He nearly lost his balance and fell, but Liz didn’t seem to care. She was sobbing into his pant legs, crying, "Luke! Oh, Luke! I love you!"
It was way pathetic. I have to admit, I was totally embarrassed for my gender.
But the girls weren’t the only ones. Even some of the guys were acting like complete fools. I heard this one guy in a John Deere baseball cap say to his friend, "I’m gonna get me an autograph and sell it on eBay!"
And Mr. Hall? Mr. Hall, a teacher who should have known better? He was the worst of all! He was screaming up at Luke, "Mr. Striker, Mr. Striker, would it be all right if I gave you the screenplay I've been working on? It’s a dramedy about a young man’s coming-of-age while working in the chorus of a major Broadway musical. I think you’d be perfect for the part!"
Only a couple of people in the parking lot were hanging back that I could see. One of them was Scott. He was leaning against his car, just watching, a pillar of sanity in a sea of total wackos.
I rushed over to him. I’d completely forgotten about the Geri Lynn thing. All I could think of was the fact that if somebody didn’t do something, and soon, Luke was going to be torn in two, just like Mel Gibson in
Braveheart
, only by his fans, not the British.
"Do you think we should call the police?" I asked Scott worriedly. "I mean, I don’t want to call the cops on my friends, but—"
But the only alternative I could see was trying to help Luke myself—except that I didn’t see how I could. I mean, the crowd around the car he was standing on was about ten people deep. No way was I going to be able to get to him. . . .
"Don’t worry," Scott said. "Already done."
I blinked up at him. "Already—you called the police?"
He held up his cell phone. Even as he winked at me, off in the distance I could hear the wail of a police siren.
"Oh, thank you," I said, feeling a huge wave of relief.
"So I take it he’s not really enrolled," Scott said, putting his cell phone back in his pocket.
"What?" I’d been watching a Chi-Chi’s waitress lunge for the autograph Luke had just given her. "Oh, no. He’s just doing research for a part."
"Do Lewis and those guys know?"
"Yeah. It was their idea."
Scott shook his head. "They’ll probably refuse to comment. Too bad. Still, this’ll make a great story."
The fact that Scott could think about the
Register
at a time like this made me think he wasn’t too concerned for Luke.
Or upset over the whole thing with Geri.
"Scott, I—"
I’m sorry about you and Geri Lynn
. That’s what I’d been going to say.
Except that right then three different things happened. The first was that a Duane County squad car pulled into the parking lot, its siren blaring. The second was that a long black limo—the same one, I guess, that picked Luke up from school every day—appeared from behind the restaurant, almost as if it had been there all along.
And the third was that Geri Lynn came running up to us, her eyes shining.
"Can you believe this?" she wanted to know. "I’m killing myself that nobody’s got a camera. Something finally happens in this hick town, and we've got no way to record it!"
I couldn’t tell if she’d managed to ask Luke to the Spring Fling or not. I was guessing not, as the crowd around him was still pretty thick. A lot of people had backed off at the sight of the squad car, and even more were milling away as the police officer, who was a really big guy, strolled confidently into the fray. Still, Luke hadn’t gotten down from the top of the car.
"If only Kwang
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