Page 63 of Troublemaker: The Big Picture Edition

EMILIA

“That was the longest standing ovation the audience has ever given after a show since I’ve been here,” Mrs. Woodard tells Mr. Vega and me.

I’ve been trying to maintain some distance from him when we’re at school. Ever since Finger Night, two nights ago. But she summoned us to join her at the snack table after the performance. I keep inching away from him, nevertheless.

“It was fantastic, just fantastic,” she continues.

“Yes, bravo.” Miss Farrell says to Alex, squeezing his arm before turning to me. “It was so cute.”

As she walks away, she mutters in passing, “Well-played.” As if we’re competing for Ryder’s dad and I won this battle but she plans to win the war.Puh-lease.I’m winning all the battlesandthe war.

“The kids are the ones with the talent,” Alex says to my principal. “And Miss Stiles did most of the heavy-lifting.” He puts his hand on my back for half a second, and I have to swallow a lusty groan.

“But Mr. Vega was the one who got everyone excited.”Literally. All of us.“He deserves all the credit.”And a Tony Award for Best Direction of My Clitoris.

It might be my imagination, but Mrs. Woodard narrows her eyes at me and looks back and forth between Alex and me a couple of times. “Well, it was a great success. Thank you to both of you for your time and effort.” She pops one last bite of white chocolate truffle into her mouth before saying, “Now I have to go pretend to be happy to see some parents. Happy holidays. Enjoy your vacations.” She pats us both on our shoulders and walks away.

Without looking at each other, Alex and I reach for little paper plates and napkins, piling snacks onto them and trying to act like we totally didn’t do something naughty in this very room less than forty-eight hours ago.

“Ryder did great tonight.”

“I know. He keeps telling me that.”

I laugh. “I especially enjoyed his ad lib about Mr. Scrooge’s itchy underpants making him extra grouchy.”

“I’m very proud.”

“Did you get some of it on video for his mom?”

“Yup. Already sent it to her.”

“Good.”

We saunter over to the end of the long table and start mumbling while holding food in front of our faces and facing away from each other, like old-school spies.

“I have never seen anyone look so hot while holding a Rice Krispies treat with a Rudolph face on it,” he says. “Stop it.”

“Well, I’m not going to stop eating this treat, so deal with it.”

“Fair enough.”

“You smell like a Christmas cookie that went camping in a damp, sexy forest.”

“Thank you? There was an unfortunate incident involving my son and a few things that he thought I should smell like. Apparently, Cheyenne told him that women like it when men smell like vanilla. So he got a bottle of vanilla extract from thekitchen, poured it into his hand, and then slapped my bare chest with it when I was getting dressed to come here. And then he sprayed me with cologne to try to cover it up. You like?”

“It makes me want to sit around a campfire and eat you up,” I say, waving at Poppy’s parents across the auditorium.

Alex covers his mouth and coughs, choking on a Santa Oreo.

“You okay?”

“Never better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Speaking of… Ryder is going to a sleepover at my friend’s house tomorrow night. How’d you like to come to my place for dinner and whatever?”

Now I’m choking on a tiny glob of marshmallow-covered Rice Krispies.

Alex rubs my back.

“You okay?”