“Good Old Pees-in-a-Cup,” Gabe said.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “If you knew it was going to be miserable.”

“I’m here because I love Star Wars,” he said. “Same as you.” He folded his arms on his knees and tucked his head down.

“But you don’t even talk to me,” Elena said. “To either of us.”

Gabe made a sarcastic noise, like hrmph.

“No, seriously,” she said. “What’s the point of getting in this line if you don’t want to experience it with other people?”

“Maybe I just don’t want to experience it with you,” he said. “Have you thought of that?”

“Oh my God.” She scrunched up her face. “No. I haven’t thought of that. Is that true? Why are you so mean?”

“It’s not true,” he grumbled, lifting his head.“I’m just tired. And I’m not—a people person. Sorry I’m not meeting your Star Wars dream line expectations.”

“Me, too.” She rubbed her hands together and blew in them.

“Why didn’t your friends wait in line with you?” Gabe said. “Then you could have had your party line.”

“None of my friends likes Star Wars.”

“Everybody likes Star Wars,” he said. “Everybody likes everything these days. The whole world is a nerd.”

“Are you mad because other people like Star Wars? Are you mad because people like me like Star Wars?”

Gabe glowered at her. “Maybe.”

“Well,” she said, “my friends do like Star Wars. They’re going to see it this weekend. But they don’t like it like I do. They don’t get a stomach ache about it.”

“Why does Star Wars give you a stomach ache?”

“I don’t know. I just care about it so much.”

“I wasn’t trying to call you a fake geek girl,” Gabe said.

“I didn’t say that you were.”

“I mean, you obviously know the original trilogy inside out. And that’s not even important, but you obviously do.”

“I’ve yet to determine whether you’re a fake geek boy,” she said, pulling her sleeves down over her hands.

He laughed, and she was ninety per cent sure it wasn’t sarcastic.

“Here’s what bothers me,” he said, glowering slightly less, but still looking frustrated. “I’m a nerd, right? Like obviously. Classic nerd. I hate sports. I know every Weird Al song by heart. I don’t know how to talk to most people. I’m probably going to get a job in computer science. Like, I know those are all stereotypes, but they’re also true of me. That’s who I am. And the thing about nerd culture being mainstream culture now means that there’s no place to just be a nerd among other nerds—without being reminded that you’re the nerd. Do you follow me?”

“Only sort of,” Elena said.

“OK. So. If I go to a football party at my brother’s house, I don’t know anything about football, and I’m the nerd. And if I go dancing with my friend who likes to dance, well, I don’t dance, and I don’t like loud music, so I’m the nerd. But now, even if I go see a comic-book movie, the whole world is there—so I’m still the nerd. I would have thought that a Star Wars line would be safe,” he said, waving his arm around the way Elena had. “No way am I going to feel like a social outcast in a Star Wars line. No way am I going to have to sit next to one of the cool girls for four days.”

“Whoa,” Elena said. “I’m not a cool girl.”

“Give me a break.”

She held up her index finger. “I feel like I need to say that everyone should be welcome in a Star Wars line, socially successful or not, but also, whoa. I am a nerd,” she said. “That’s what this was supposed to be, a chance to talk to people who wouldn’t care that I’m awkward in literally every other situation.”

“That’s not true,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It is.”

“You have friends. You have a clique. You walk down the hall like you own the place.”

“You seem to have mistaken me for the movie Mean Girls,” Elena said. “Also, are you saying you don’t have friends at your school? Have you considered that maybe it’s your silent pouting that drives people away?”

“I have friends,” Gabe said. “That’s not the point.”

“So you have friends, but you think I have a clique.”

“I’m pretty sure of it.”

“I feel like you’re projecting your clearly problematic girl issues on me,” she said.

Gabe rolled his eyes again. “I thought you said you couldn’t talk to people,” he said. “You don’t seem to have any problems talking to me.”

“I’m having a lot of problems talking to you.”

“OK, then, let’s stop.”

Was Gabe really mad? She couldn’t tell.

Was Elena mad? She also couldn’t tell . . .

Yes. Yes, Elena was mad. Who was Gabe to take her inventory like this? He didn’t know her. And he was giving her zero benefit of the doubt; she’d been giving him nothing but benefit of the doubt for thirty-six hours.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, without looking at him, “I haven’t thought, Whoa, Gabe sure is a nerd, even once since I sat down.”

He didn’t say anything.

Elena squirmed. She wrapped her sleeping bag as tightly as she could and rearranged her legs. “Uggggggggch.”

“I get it,” he said. “You think I’m a jerk.”

“No. Yes, but no—I have to pee again.”

“You just went.”

“I know, I can’t help it. Sometimes it happens in waves.”

“Can you wait?”

“No.”

Gabe sighed and stood up. “Come on. Let’s go back to the dumpster.”

“I threw away the cup!” Elena said.

“You still have your hot-water bottle—”

“No.”

Gabe clicked his tongue like he was thinking. Elena started rooting through her backpack. Everything she’d brought was in plastic bags.

“Aha!” Gabe said. He reached behind her sleeping bag and pulled out her Starbucks cup. “This is perfect,” he said. “It’s already got your name on it.”