Devan

Justin’s eyes widen as he scans from my hair to my shoes. With each passing second, the color drains from his cheeks. I want to talk, to say something, but my heart is beating too fast. I’m afraid if I try to speak, I’ll pass out right here. The realization hits. I should have gone with the mustache and wig.

“I say we get the biggest things first,” Ricky says, oblivious to the ringing in my ears or the tornado of thoughts ...