Undercover at the Kickback

Marcus stood outside Jordan's house, heart hammering like he'd just chugged three Red Bulls. The bass from inside thumped against his chest. First real high school party. No parents. Just seniors and juniors and him—a lowly sophomore who'd barely survived gym class dodgeball.

"You got this," Ty whispered, adjusting his dad's fedora like it gave him spy credentials. "We go in, we locate Jordan, you finally talk to her, and we bounce. Operation Crush is a go."

Marcus wiped sweating palms on his jeans. "This is the worst idea ever."

"That's why it's legendary."

Inside, the air smelled like cheap body spray and desperation. Marcus spotted Jordan immediately—laughing near the faux palm tree decoration someone had dragged into the corner. She looked like she belonged everywhere at once. Marcus felt like he'd accidentally wandered into a music video after being homeschooled in a bunker.

Then came the complication: Buster, Jordan's golden retriever, escaped from the backyard and made a beeline for Marcus, knocking him sideways into a table with a crash that silenced half the room. Red Solo cups scattered everywhere.

Jordan rushed over. "Oh my god, Buster! Are you okay?" She grabbed Marcus's arm, helping him up. "I'm so sorry, he's literally obsessed with strangers."

Marcus's brain short-circuited. All his rehearsed lines vaporized. "I—your dog—his fur is very—"

"Soft, right?" She grinned, and something in her expression made him think maybe she'd noticed him before. "You're Marcus from English, yeah? You wrote that dystopian story about the government banning memes."

"You read that?"

"Loved it." She adjusted her snapback, tilting it back. "Wanna hang out by the palm tree? Buster can't reach us there. Probably."

Ty gave him a thumbs-up from across the room, tipping his fedora like the world's most embarrassing wingman. Marcus smiled despite himself. Operation Crush: shockingly successful.