It was finally free, since the Perceived Slights were all busy at a prom court meeting. Lilith had walked by their table in the center of the cafeteria after grabbing a sandwich and had noticed the empty seat where Cam was supposed to sit. He hadn’t been in homeroom or poetry that morning either, and Lilith was trying not to wonder why. “Hey, Luis.” She mustered a smile for the drummer in his blue tank top and fingerless leather gloves. “Hola,” Luis said, playing a tight drumroll. He was getting better. He was almost good. “That sounded fly,” Lilith said. Luis grinned. “Fly’s my middle name.” The battle was three nights away. They were down one guitar player—again—and far from having their act together, but Lilith was determined not to give up. She would figure out a way to pull this performance off. “I take it we’re not waiting for Cam?” Jean asked, giving her a sympathetic look. He had taken off the top of the Moog synthesizer and was tightening the screws inside.
