“That can’t be right. Do you need my monocle?”
“I do not. I have perfect vision… almost.” Suddenly she realized she still had the eye patch on and lifted it. “Ah, that’s better.”
The mustache twitched against my upper lip. I tried to discreetly scratch it with the corner of the menu.
It made it worse.
My eyes began to water.
My breath came faster.
The tickle became unbearable.
“Don’t sneeze,” Mrs. Mulroney hissed. “You’ll draw attention to us.”
“I can’t help it. I think it’s made of cat hair.”
Suddenly Cal shifted in his chair.
Then he stood.
“What’s he doing,” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and stifle the sneeze.
“He just told Hal he’s going to the craft room.”
I froze. “Oh God. He’s coming this way.”
Mrs. Mulroney snapped her head around. “What? Where’s the craft room? I don’t see a craft room.”
“The bathroom. The men’s bathroom.”
She glanced at the restroom right behind us. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
“We have to get out of here! He’s going to walk right past us!”
“There’s no time!” she barked. “Quick! Get under the table!”
“What?!”
“Under the table!Now!”
There was no time to argue.
We both dove.
Menus flapped. Silverware clattered. My knee hit the leg of the table, and I swore loudly into the tablecloth. The mustache—it tickled again.
I held my breath.
Cal’s footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
I could see his loafers.
The cat-hair caterpillar felt like it was halfway up my nose.
Then suddenly—