Joel exhaled hard through his nose—the kind of breath you take before jumping off a high dive—and snapped off another crumbling chunk. This time he didn't hesitate. Three quick chews, a shudder that traveled from his shoulders to his knees, then a violent swallow that made his neck tendons stand out like guitar strings. Oakley whooped before the cracker even hit Joel's stomach, scrambling up to slap him on the back hard enough to dislodge a puff of greenish dust from his shirt.
"Legend!" Oakley crowed, shaking Joel by the shoulders. "Absolute madman! They should put your face on the lunchroom milk cartons!"
Jovie was next, but her congratulations came with conditions. She grabbed Joel's jaw, tilting his face toward the sunlight like a suspect specimen. "If you die of botulism tomorrow," she said, prodding his cheek with her thumb, "I'm telling your mom this was Walker's idea." But her mouth twitched when Joel grinned weakly, cracker crumbs sticking to his incisors like tiny pieces of evidence.
Valerie's approval came slower. She studied Joel's slightly greenish pallor, then the remaining cracker-brick with equal suspicion. "You know this is how zombie outbreaks start, right?" But when Joel wobbled to his feet and executed a shaky bow, she tossed a half-eaten gummy bear at his forehead—Valerie's version of a medal of honor.
*** 12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh2ixPGw8C5
Walker's reflection in the carnival mirror stared back at him like a stranger—a very colorful, very *public* stranger. The face-paint artist stepped back with a flourish, her rainbow-stained fingers hovering near his forehead. "Ta-da!" she chirped, oblivious to the way Walker's shoulders had gone rigid beneath his hoodie. The paint was still tacky, stripes of violet, indigo, and neon green curving across his skin like some kind of radioactive sunrise.
Joel's phone was already out, angled for maximum humiliation. "Say 'pride month,'" he deadpanned, zooming in on Walker's tortured expression. Behind him, Oakley was wheezing into his elbow, doubled over with laughter loud enough to draw stares from passing families. A toddler clutching a balloon giraffe pointed at Walker and screamed, "CLOWN!" with the brutal honesty only a three-year-old could muster.
"Happy?" Walker muttered through clenched teeth, glaring at Joel's triumphant smirk. The paint itched. The carnival lights were too bright. And worst of all—Valerie was *laughing*, really laughing, her usual sarcasm dissolved into something warm and unguarded as she flicked a popcorn kernel at Joel's shoulder. "Worth every moldy bite," Joel declared, snapping another photo just as the face-paint artist added a final glittery flourish to Walker's left eyebrow.
A sudden crash of cymbals made them all jump—the school marching band had launched into a off-key rendition of "Celebration" near the dunk tank, their uniforms clashing violently with Walker's new rainbow aesthetic. Jovie seized the moment, darting forward to snatch Joel's phone. "Group shot!" she announced, herding them into a tight, squirming huddle. Walker tried to duck, but Oakley hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him into frame. "Smile, Picasso," Valerie murmured, and the flash went off just as Walker's grimace twisted into something halfway between a snarl and reluctant amusement.
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and then Add to home screen.