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They all kind of looked the same, with similar shaggy haircuts and slouchy jeans—no sparks here. Damn.
    Oh, well, back to the business at hand. Boy musicians or not, I had a date with a Chicken Soft Taco.
    “Do you play an instrument?”
    I looked up, mid-bite, at . . . let’s see, that would be . . . Chris? I shook my head, munching away.
    Damn, that’s a good taco.
    “Marty’s really into theater, though,” Xiang interjected. Her new voice was starting to drive me nuts. “She’s dragging me into joining the fall musical. We just haven’t figured out how, since I can’t do the onstage stuff, and I don’t really want to do the backstage stuff.”
    Parker gave Xiang a quizzical look. “Well, why don’t you just join the orchestra?”
    Xiang and I bolted up in our seats as if someone hadTasered us. Then I sprayed Chicken Soft Taco everywhere as we burst out laughing.
    DUH! Why hadn’t we thought of that before?
    “Ohmigod, we are soooo dense,” Xiang groaned.
    “What’s the show?” Parker asked.
    “
Into the Woods
,” I answered, slurping my Coke.
    Xiang gasped. “I know! You guys should all try out, too! I don’t know what kind of instruments they need, but I’m sure they need clarinets.”
    Pause. Everyone just looked at Xiang.
    She turned bright red and rushed to add, “Oh, and drums and violins and stuff. Lots of different instruments. Not just . . . well, whatever. I’ll find out which ones they need.” By the time she finished speaking, Xiang had somehow managed to hide her entire body behind her small cup of pintos-and-cheese.
    Parker, too, had turned a shade or two redder. “Yeah, that sounds good. Well, we should go,” he said. “See you around.” He abruptly stood and walked away. The other boys trailed after him.
    “Uh, what was that?” I asked. “What did I miss?”
    Xiang peered out from behind the refried beans, then slowly unfolded herself back into three dimensions.
    “I just . . . ugh!” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m
such
a complete idiot.”
    Okaaaay . . . I guess that meant it was time for me to put down what was left of my Chicken Soft Taco. And I guess it was time for some Girl Talk, a skill I had never had the opportunityto master. Would a lifetime of watching romantic comedies be enough to go on?
    “Xiang, what’s wrong? What are you talking about?” I asked, tentatively rubbing her back.
    “I just . . . well, it’s Parker. I think I . . . well, I don’t know. What do you think of him?”
    “I, uh, I just met him,” I replied uncertainly. “He seems nice, and he’s cute, I guess.” I wasn’t sure what the correct answer was, but at least I got Xiang to nod, however sadly.
    “So . . . I’m guessing he plays the clarinet?”
    More sad nodding.
    “And you like him?”
    More sad nodding. (I’m awesome at Twenty Questions, by the way.)
    “And this is a bad thing because . . . ?”
    “My parents would totally, totally, totally freak out. He’s not Chinese. They think I’m too young to even be thinking about boys, that I need to focus on school, and that American guys . . . oh, what am I even talking about? Parker and me? That’s so far from happening, it’s not even funny.” She shook her head.
    I rolled my eyes. Screw the sympathetic Girl Talk. “Xiang. Come on. Seriously. Get a grip. You wouldn’t be the first teenager in the world to date someone her parents didn’t approve of.”
    I nudged her.
    “Right?”
    Another nudge. “Am I right?”
    Xiang took a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re right, you’re right, you’re right. But whatever. I don’t even know if he likes me.”
    I gave her a hard stare in response.
    “OK, maybe I can sort of tell that maybe he possibly likes me.”
    “Mmm. I thought so.” I bumped up against her.
    Xiang shoved back, harder. I found myself throwing my hands out defensively, laughing.
    “OK, OK, OK, no fighting. Oh, look, Parker’s coming back. Psych!”
    Xiang shoved me again, and we