On Friday, we all had to sneak out the back door to get to school and work without getting pounced on by the media—which had not stayed overnight but was back bright and early, clogging up our whole block. The neighbors had started to call and complain, and my dad spent half the morning apologizing for all the noise and traffic, and promising that we’d do our best to get rid of them as soon as possible, and offering everybody free tickets to see Conceptual Art Band whenever they actually got it together to play a show.

Lisa and Pierre wore disguises for added protection, even though the reporters didn’t actually know what they looked like, except for Lisa’s arm. The only disguises on hand were a bunch of old Halloween costumes, so Lisa went to school dressed as a Cruella De Vil from 101 Dalmatians, and Pierre went as Colonel Sanders. He kept making jokes in a bad Southern accent about drinking gravy, like “Ah onleh care about two thangs: wearin’ bolo ties an’ drinkin’ giant amounts ah graaaveh!” which Lisa thought were hilarious and I got sick of after a few minutes.

I still couldn’t believe how relaxed they both seemed, as if getting 43 million YouTube views and suddenly being famous was no big deal at all. It also made me realize even more what a toolbox I had been to think my little stand-up set at the Yuk-Yuk made me some kind of big shot who could afford to act all snooty. I mean, if worldwide fame wasn’t going to their heads, why should a few laughs go to mine?

I called the manager of the Yuk-Yuk before school and arranged to rent it out on Friday night. So by the time we got to M&AA, I had a stack of invitations to hand out to everybody. Starting with Azure.

I walked up and handed her one.

She narrowed her eyes at it. “Friend Appreciation Night, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Uh-huh,” she said, turning her narrowed eyes at me.

“It’s my way of apologizing,” I explained.

“So…to prove that you’re sorry for turning into a jerk the last time we came and laughed at your jokes, you’re asking us to come and laugh at your jokes again?”

I hadn’t quite thought of it like that, and so on the spot I made a decision. “I’m not going to tell any jokes,” I said. “I just want to show my friends how important they are.”

Azure handed me back the invitation. “You don’t have to do all this, Jake. An apology is good enough.”

“Conceptual Art Band is going to play,” I told her.

Azure screamed at the top of her lungs for about twenty-five seconds.

Twenty-five seconds is not a long time usually. But when someone is screaming at the top of her lungs, it feels like an eternity.

“They’re my favorite band in the world!” she told me, panting, when she stopped. “I watched their video like fifty times last night! How in the world did you get them?”

“Uh…you know Conceptual Art Band is just my sister and Pierre, right? And that’s me and Evan in the video, dressed like eggs.”

Azure screwed up her face. “Really?”

“Yeah, dude. You watched the video fifty times and you didn’t recognize any of us?”

Azure looked puzzled. “Were you wearing makeup or something?”

“Well, Lisa and Pierre have wigs on. And you can’t see much more than Evan’s and my legs. But it’s us.”

“Holy cow. Your sister’s famous, man.”

“I know. So you’ll come?”

“I’ll come. But not because of Conceptual Art Band.”

“That’s—” I started to say, but Azure hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re a good egg, Jake,” she said when she let go. “And I don’t just mean in the video.” Then she walked away.

By lunch (goat cheese and roasted bell pepper frittata, sunchoke soup), I had handed out the invitations, and the room had definitely thawed, in terms of how my friends were treating me. I was still sensing a hint of skepticism from Bin-Bin and Zenobia and a few others, probably because, like Azure said, it was a little weird to apologize for being full of myself by inviting everybody back to the place where I’d gotten that way. But maybe there was also something appropriate about it.

There were two things I still had to do. One was plan the entertainment for the evening, besides asking Conceptual Art Band to perform. I had some ideas about that. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it would probably take all the money I had left after renting the Yuk-Yuk, but I thought I could pull it off.

The second and more difficult thing was apologizing to Evan and making sure he came. I’d been the jerkiest to him by far, and Evan was kind of a stubborn guy.

For example, when we were in second grade, we’d had a contest to see who could wear the same shirt longer. I think we bet, like, fifty cents or something, which was a lot of money back then. Not only did Evan win, but just to prove a point he wore the shirt for an additional two weeks after the contest was over. He kept it hidden under a can of motor oil in his garage, and after he left the house for school every morning, he’d sneak in there and put it on. By the end, it was covered in so many food stains that he probably could have survived a week in the wilderness just by sucking on it. The point being, once Evan sets his mind on something, changing it is not the easiest thing. But he was my oldest friend and I had to try, so I went straight to his house after school and rang the bell.

His mom answered. Her name is Celia. She’s almost like my second mom, I’ve spent so much time at Evan’s house.

“Jake. Hi.” She looked surprised to see me, which probably meant that Evan had told her about our fight.

“Hi,” I said. “Is Evan home?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, then opened it. “He is.” Long pause. “I’m sorry, Jake. He saw you coming up the walk, and he told me to tell you he doesn’t want to see you.” It looked like it was breaking her heart to say it.

“Oh,” I said, feeling my own heart crack open a little.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. You know how he can be. But I’m sure he’ll come around. Is there anything you want me to tell him?”

“Tell him I’m sorry for missing his game,” I said. “And that I know friendship is a two-way street, and I won’t forget it again. And tell him he should come to this.” I handed her the last invitation to Friend Appreciation Night.

“I will,” she said.

“Thanks. Oh, and tell him that my sister has a bunch of money for him, from the video. I don’t know if you heard, but the song kind of blew up.”

“I sure did!” Evan’s mom said. She looked at the invitation. “I’ll give this to him right now, Jake.”

She waved goodbye and shut the door. I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the closed door. Then I looked up at Evan’s bedroom window and waved, just in case he was watching.