My phone vibrated and I looked down to see a new text from Liz:

Yo Holly we’re outside. Ready or not! Bahahaha.

Meh.

I tried to drum up what tiny ember of enthusiasm I had. What was pooping all over this potentially amazing Muppet Caper–like escapade? Two of the people downstairs.

I shuffled to the living room where my parents and Ann were sitting around watching Korean dramas. Well, Ann was on her laptop. Her Korean skills have declined so spectacularly that she can no longer watch Korean shows or movies without subtitles. I guess that’s what happens when your older sister speaks to you in English from the first day of your life. And by “speaks” I mean orders her to fetch water and Mint Milano cookies.

“Okay, I’m leaving now. Liz is here to pick me up. Um, because we’re both sleeping over at Carrie’s. Remember, I told you guys? Okay, yeah, so she’s here. Bye! See you guys Sunday!” I ran to the door before I accidentally told them the truth.

But my quick getaway was slowed down by both my parents getting up to walk me to the door. This is something that may strike some people as pretty formal since, as far as they knew, I was just going to a sleepover. But it’s this weird formality that Korean people have, and I have to say it’s kind of a pleasant gesture that makes you feel special as you’re leaving.

“Make sure you eat something. Every time you come back from that girl’s house you are hungry,” my mom chided. It took an inordinate amount of self-control to not say something back, but I had to be on my best behavior so that they wouldn’t find some last-minute excuse to make me stay home. Also? Carrie’s mom does tend to make small portions of chard and tempeh for dinner.

“Well, bye!” And with a meek, completely uncharacteristic wave, I managed to slip out. And through the shrinking crack of the front door, I thought I saw the tiniest flicker of doubt cross my mom’s face.

I sprinted down the driveway to Liz’s shiny red Mini Cooper. (Her parents were still mad that she wanted this car over the BMW they had picked out for her. Please read that sentence one more time.)

“Let’s get outta here before my mom changes her mind!” I said between pants as I climbed into the backseat. Liz stepped on the gas and we left my street with a squeal. “Liz!” I screeched, gripping the oh-crap handle like my grandma.

“What? You said get outta there!” Liz replied with a devilish grin. Sometimes I thought she was actually a trained European spy who knew how to do things like drive across canyon gorges and seduce and poison world leaders.

“All right, who’s got the tickets?” David asked, popping up next to me from the backseat floor where he had been hiding from my parents’ hawk eyes.

“Check!” Carrie said, holding them up in a fist that also held licorice. I grabbed one from her.

David started bouncing up and down in his seat. “Sweet! Hittin’ the road, hittin’ the road, hittin’ the —”

“SHUT UP!” Our collective voices vibrated inside the car. Carrie threw some licorice at him for good measure.

We blasted Hot Chip on the stereo with the car’s top down. The wind whipped through my hair and as all the stress left me, I couldn’t stop smiling. Holy crap, this was a great idea.

“Hey, Holls! You ready for the X Games next week?” David yelled to be heard over the music and freeway noise.

I nodded, holding two thumbs up. “It’s going to be awesome! But can we not spend two hours on the BMX competitions this year?”

“No way, dude. Morgan Long is supposed to be off the hook! We gotta watch all of it,” he protested.

Carrie turned around. “I can’t believe you guys spent all that money on buying tickets to that thing!”

David nodded his head solemnly. “Believe it. You guys are going to be jeeealous!” Liz and Carrie had come with us last year but almost died of boredom, so it was just David and me this year. David had to wake up at 3:00 A.M. a few months ago to be the first person to buy them online.

“Your mom will be jeeealous!” Carrie responded.

I cracked up. There’s nothing like a mom joke. Gets me every time.

We drove through Carlsbad and Orange County, stopping at an In-N-Out for lunch and a pee break. An hour later I could tell we had arrived in Los Angeles by the gray-blue color of the sky. Ah, the glamour of smog. I started getting excited — until we hit monster traffic.

“How do people live like this?” Carrie asked with disgust.

Just then a car full of guys in Dodgers caps drove up next to us and started making lewd gestures. “GROSS!” I yelled, shaking my fist at them. They all laughed and one of them started rolling down his window.

“Oh my God, Liz, keep driving!” I squealed. She jerked the wheel and cut off a couple cars, then coasted in one of the far lanes. I breathed a sigh of relief as we lost the Dodgers fans.

“Wow, you’re so brave,” David deadpanned.

“Hey, this is LA. People get shot over road rage here!” I said defensively.

“Okay, Fox News,” he said. Carrie laughed loudly from the front seat.

“I hate when you call me that!”

Liz looked at us in her rearview mirror. “Do I need to separate you two children?” I stuck my tongue out at her.

There was traffic all the way to the Hollywood Bowl — even the line to park was long. All four of us were getting super antsy.

“I have to pee!” Carrie complained as we idled behind a million cars.

“Me too,” chimed in David.

“Why don’t you just pee your pants and shut up about it,” I muttered. Needless to say, we were all pretty grumpy by the time we got out of the car.

“Ugh, my shorts are all wrinkled!” Liz complained. Everyone was wearing their concert finest — Liz in little black shorts and a heather-gray shirt that was cropped just enough to show a glimpse of midriff. A black, floppy-brimmed hat sat on her wavy curls. Carrie was wearing — gasp — a dress. A short lacy cream one with long sleeves and ankle cowboy boots. David … well, David was in his usual skater shoes, jeans, and hoodie. But David was David.

Liz had threatened to kill me if I didn’t look nice that night, too, so I was wearing mint-green cropped jeans with a shrunken black blazer and black sandals. I felt borderline cute. A small part of me had dressed for the possibility of going to that party that Matthew told me about, but I had yet to get a text from him so I tried to squash those thoughts.

Our sour moods turned when we entered the Bowl. We found our seats, which were pretty far back, but any spot at this venue was breathtaking. Hills and trees were nestled around us and the gray sky was turning into brilliant shades of pink as the sun sank behind the hills.

“This is going to be awesome,” Carrie declared. We sat down as the opening band came onstage and I prepared myself for some real live fun.

* * *

“I usually hate when bands only play their new stuff, but this is freaking amazing!” Carrie shouted. I nodded stupidly in enthusiastic agreement, a huge grin plastered to my face.

“Is someone having … a good time?”

I elbowed David. “Can you just, please, not ruin everything?”

He grinned at me, and for a second, I felt completely unsettled. David is cute. We all knew this. But I didn’t ever, ever, EEEEEEEEEEEEVER think about it.

However, that night, there was something kind of amazing happening, and that quick, truly happy smile made me see him with totally curious eyes. The bright stage lights created a halo around his messy, skater-boy hair. His infuriatingly white teeth, which never required braces like the rest of us losers, beamed. Hm, and was he wearing cologne or something, or was I being completely nuts —

“Holly Kim-izzle?!”

A very loud, very boy voice interrupted my disturbing thoughts.

Everyone’s heads swiveled and there, two rows behind us, was Matthew Reynolds. He smiled and effortlessly leapt over seats to magically end up standing beside me. But not without a slight shove into David. Oops.

Startled, I couldn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Whoa, small world, right?” he asked, still smiling.

I laughed. Loudly. “Um, yeah.”

“Love this band. Didn’t know you were into them, too!”

I heard my personal peanut gallery snickering behind Matthew. “Yeah, they’re kind of … one of my favorites.”

He nodded with a grin. “Awesome.” He stepped back and looked at me. “Wow! You look great. You should wear green more often. Super cute.” I felt my burning face betray me once again.

“Oh, uh, thanks! I don’t want to wear green too often — don’t know if the boys would be able to handle it,” I managed to joke. He threw his head back and laughed, which made me start cracking up, and I forgot my self-consciousness for a minute.

Until I noticed that my three friends were now openly staring at us. Before I could introduce him to them, Matthew said, “Hey, so you’re definitely in for Sean’s party now, right? I mean, dude, you’re here.” With this, he held out his arms in a way that suggested he owned not just the Hollywood Bowl, but all of Los Angeles.

Carrie piped up. “Party?”

“Yeah, in Malibu after the show. See you guys there? Hizzle, I’ll text you the address!” And with that, he was leaping back to his row where his Gossip Girl friends were staring at us, slack-jawed.

“Hizzle?” Carrie made a face and looked at David. “Only D gets to call you that.”