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  “Hey, how are you?” Stacy asked, taking the seat next to Cadie.

  “I’m pretty good. How was your summer?”

  “Totally lame. I had to work the whole time.” Stacy was a server at T.G.I. Friday’s. She tucked her bangs behind her ear. They were not quite long enough to make it into the ponytail. “So what did you do this summer? Writing anything good?”

  “Nothing special,” Cadie answered automatically. It was the typical response when someone asked her about her writing.

  Stacy had worked on the school’s literary publication, The Inner Eye, with Cadie for the first two years of high school, which was how the two had become friends, but Stacy had quit at the end of their sophomore year to join the cheerleading squad. Ever since then, Cadie’s time at the literary magazine meetings had been a lot less fun.

  It was sad, Cadie realized, how little time she and Stacy had spent together since her decision to quit the magazine’s staff. Cadie harbored no ill will toward her for doing so—even though she teased her about joining cheerleading—but the truth was that she missed the time they had spent together. Stacy had been one of Cadie’s best friends, second only to Felicia.

  “Are you still doing The Inner Eye?” asked Stacy.

  “Yeah,” answered Cadie. She hesitated, debating whether or not to elaborate further. What the hell, she thought. If anyone would find this news interesting, Stacy would. Felicia was not terribly fascinated by Cadie’s tales of The Inner Eye. She dropped her voice. “Actually, Mrs. Davinsizer asked me to be the editor this year.”

  “Oh, my God,” Stacy whispered.

  The reason that they were whispering was because Theodore Collins was on the other side of the room. He was another member of the literary magazine team and had been kissing butt since his first day on staff. When last year’s editor, Amber Miller, had graduated, he had been sniffing around Mrs. Davinsizer’s desk, as she was the literary magazine advisor. Cadie would have liked the position, but sucking up was not her style. Apparently it was not Mrs. Davinsizer’s style either, because she had pulled Cadie aside after her third period journalism class and asked if she would like to be the editor. She had given her until next Tuesday’s meeting to make her decision. Cadie hoped Theodore would not find out before then.

  “That’s awesome,” Stacy continued in a hushed tone. “Are you going to do it?”

  Cadie made a noncommittal noise.

  “You have to! You’re an idiot if you don’t.”

  “He has a lot of friends on staff. They might revolt if he’s not the editor.”

  “Who cares? Do the whole thing yourself.”

  Cadie took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she said carefully.

  “Look, you don’t want him to be the editor. So this is the easiest way to make sure that he doesn’t get it.”

  “That’s true, I guess.” Cadie looked around the room. “Where the hell is Mr. Johnson?”

  “Are you going to accept the position or not?”

  She felt backed into a corner. “Yeah, probably,” she answered.

  “Okay. Good.” Stacy sat back in her chair contentedly and looked around the room.

  It occurred to Cadie that if she took the position of editor, it was pretty much going to consume her entire life. Stacy was one of the few people who had ever found the literary magazine interesting. Cadie was suddenly very glad that she and Stacy had wound up in this class together. “We should hang out more,” she said abruptly.

  Stacy nodded her agreement. “We definitely should. You should start coming to the post-game parties.”

  “Maybe,” Cadie said indifferently, thinking that that was one thing that was probably never going to happen.

  “They’re not that bad. The one this Friday is at my house. They’re usually a pretty good time.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She would not, but she figured it did not hurt to say so. The post-game parties were get-togethers after the home football games on Friday nights, typically hosted by either a cheerleader or a member of the football team. Cadie did not run with that crowd of people.

  “Hey, you know where we should definitely hang out?” Stacy said suddenly.

  “Where?”

  “Tomorrow morning, in your car on the way to school.”

  Cadie smiled. “I can’t help but marvel at your amazing subtlety.”

  “I know, it’s awesome, right? Anyway, Will’s mother is making him take his three cousins along with his sister, so he doesn’t have room.” Stacy had been dating Will Cowher, a member of the football team, since the end of junior year. “I wouldn’t ask, but it’s either find a ride or take the bus—”

  “Don’t say that,” Cadie interrupted. “I’ll take you.”

  Andy stood in the locker room and waited for Lucas to finish tying his shoe. He crossed his arms and looked around irritably. “Who the hell makes these schedules?” he demanded suddenly. “Seriously, I don’t understand why someone would think that gym right after lunch is a good idea. I have chicken patties inside of me that are not fully digested yet.”

  Lucas stood from his crouched position, stared at Andy contemplatively for a moment, then said, “You complain a lot.”

  Andy was offended. “No, I don’t.” The two of them started walking towards the locker room exit.

  “Yes, you do. First you complained about how Melody gave you a hard time about doing chorus. Then you complained because you have to look up stuff online for some chemistry experiment that you guys are doing next week. Now you’re bitching about your schedule.”

  “Having gym after lunch is poor planning,” Andy pointed out.

  “I agree, but only because I share those classes with you.”

  They emerged from the locker room and into the gymnasium. The girls were already on the other side of the gym. A group of them had formed a circle and were bouncing a kickball back and forth, waiting for class to start. Others were standing in clumps, chatting. Most of the guys were shooting a few hoops with a couple loose basketballs, though a few were sitting on the floor with their backs to the padded walls. Everyone in the room was wearing blue mesh shorts and golden yellow t-shirts.

  Neil was one of the guys with a basketball, and he let it drop to the floor when he saw Andy and Lucas, then jogged over to them. “Gentlemen.” He looked at Andy, who was staring across the room.

  Andy nodded in the direction of the girls. “Do you see what I see?”

  Neil turned to look. “I see a lot of reasons why I’m very thankful for shorts,” he responded, then made a face. “I also see at least one person who should not be wearing shorts.”

  “The third girl in from the right.”

  “Next to the girl with the cellulite?”

  “It’s Amanda,” Andy snapped.

  “With the cellulite?” Lucas asked, grinning.

  “No, not with the cellulite! With the kickball!”

  “Oh, I see her now.” Lucas looked at Andy sidelong. “Is that why you joined chorus?”

  Andy nodded slowly, still staring across the room. “Could be.”

  “Dude, that’s really not worth it,” Neil said. “You know what you have to do for a final in chorus? Abernathe makes you sing solo. In front of everybody.”

  “There isn’t a final in chorus.”

  “Yes, there is,” Lucas chimed in. “Melody told me.”

  “Why would there be a final in chorus?”

  “Because she’s on speed?” Neil guessed. “I don’t know. She kicked a girl out of choir last year because she said her shoes were too bright.”

  “I’m thinking of asking Amanda out,” Andy announced.

  “Have you ever talked to her before?” Lucas wanted to know.

  “A couple of times.” He stared at her for a bit longer. “What do you guys think?”

  “I don’t think she would ever go for you,” Neil responded.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Well, why would she have sex with you when she’s used
to having sex with Shane Stolarz?”

  Andy threw his hands up in the air. “How does everybody know this?”

  “Andy, how long have you gone to this school?” Lucas replied, laughing. “Everybody knows everything about everybody else.”

  “Okay, well, do you think I should ask her out her not?”

  Lucas tilted his head from side to side thoughtfully.

  Neil answered before Lucas could. “What would that girl want with you? She’s probably beating guys off with a stick. Me, I prefer a girl who uses her hands.”

  The chairs on the stage were arranged in a semicircle directed toward the auditorium. The stage lights were on, causing students to squint and shield their eyes as they watched Mrs. Abernathe scurry back and forth from the wings, carrying stacks of books as she went. She had recruited one of her protégés, Rachael Dunmyer, to help her. Meanwhile, the rest of the students sat and watched, feeling slightly guilty at not volunteering their services, but not guilty enough to actually do so.

  “Does it make sense to you that we need books for theatre class?”

  Felicia turned to her left. The girl sitting next to her was very tall, with long, straight blonde hair and big blue eyes. It was the new girl that she had seen during English class that morning. Elliot Something. Something that started with a letter towards the end of the alphabet, because she had been one of the last called during roll.

  Elliot nodded at the stack of books that Mrs. Abernathe was making taller and taller. “I mean, what do you think they can really teach us out of a book? Do you think they’ll have pictures of people looking scared, so we know how to do it ourselves?”

  Felicia smirked. “Maybe it’s about the history of theatre or something,” she responded after a pause. “Like, we’ll probably have to learn about Shakespeare.”

  “Oh, great. So we can study him in two of our classes.”

  Felicia’s smirk bloomed into a smile.

  Elliot leaned forward, extending her hand. “I’m Elliot.”

  Felicia shook it, confused. She had never known of anyone their age who introduced themselves by shaking hands. “I’m Felicia.”

  “I just moved here,” Elliot explained.

  “I figured,” Felicia answered.

  Elliot grinned. “Yeah. It’s kind of a small school.”

  “You think?”

  She laughed.

  Felicia hesitated. She was not used to strangers making small talk with her, and she definitely was not the type to strike up a conversation with someone that she did not know. Or even someone that she did know. But Elliot seemed nice enough. And she probably did not know anybody here. “Where did you move from?”

  “Philadelphia.”

  “Why on earth did you come here?” Felicia asked.

  Elliot shrugged. “My dad lost his job there. He was looking for a new one for about a year before he found one, and it was here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. It kind of sucked. But everything’s okay now. I can buy clothes. Which is good, because I was getting tired of wearing paper bags.”

  Felicia was startled for a moment, then laughed. She glanced over at Mrs. Abernathe, who was still carrying books. Glimpsing over the stacks of books, she estimated that there were about thirty-five gathered there. Glancing over the students assembled, she guessed there were about twelve. She shook her head. “So how was your first day here?” Felicia asked, turning her attention back to Elliot.

  Elliot took a deep breath. “You’re the first person who’s really talked to me, actually.”

  Felicia was slightly ashamed when she thought that she almost had not spoken to her. Considering it was eighth period, and the last of the day, Elliot would have gone home thinking that this school was full of snobs. “Well, what lunch do you have?” she wanted to know.

  “Um, second.”

  Felicia looked out over the auditorium, feeling slightly embarrassed, but unsure as to why. “You can sit with us tomorrow if you want,” she offered quietly. “I mean, me and my friend Cadie. We usually sit by ourselves. But you can sit with us.” She finally turned to look at Elliot, who was smiling.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Cadie took a desk in the back of her AP calculus class. She had with her a textbook from her AP physics class. She had study hall seventh period and had started reading the first chapter, because she was not very good at science and wanted to get a jump on things. After study hall, she would have had time to drop the book off at her locker if she had not decided to go to the bathroom because her bladder felt like it was going to explode. But she had gone, and her bladder remained intact. Crisis averted.

  She leaned over to put the text in the basket underneath her chair and heard someone take the seat next to her on her right. When she sat back up, her hair was in her face, obstructing her vision. When she tucked it behind her ear, she was surprised beyond belief to see Shane Stolarz sitting next to her.

  “Hi,” she said. It came out sounding like a question.

  “Hey,” he answered.

  She looked around and saw faces that she recognized, one of which belonged to Theodore Collins. This confirmed that she was, in fact, in the classroom for AP calculus, because she knew he would not be taking anything less. Stacy had been in her AP physics class, as well as her computer science class after lunch, but had drawn the line at AP history and calc, so Cadie had not bothered to keep an eye out for her. She looked back at Shane. “Are you in the right room?” she could not help asking.

  He was slouched far down in his chair, staring at the front of the room. “AP calc,” he responded flatly.

  “You’re taking AP calc,” she said doubtfully.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Yes,” she replied bluntly.

  He finally looked at her and smiled. “Me, too,” he answered honestly.

  Cadie looked around the room again. “Why are you sitting next to me?” she asked curiously.

  Shane shrugged. “You’re the only person in this room that I’ve talked to in the last five years.”

  After another look around the room, and after some consideration, she realized he was probably telling the truth. In all likelihood, these were not the kind of people that Shane hung out with regularly. Cadie opened her notebook and carefully printed her name and the day’s date on the top of the page. “Why are you taking AP calculus?” she asked when she was finished.

  “I like math,” he responded.

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  She paused. “I hate it,” she answered.

  He glanced at her sidelong. “Then why are you taking it?”

  Cadie shrugged. “I took all AP classes. I really didn’t think about it.”

  “You’re gonna have a fun time this year.”

  She snorted. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” Then she realized that she actually did have something better to do. She had decided to take the position of editor of the literary magazine. She felt something close to panic well up in her chest. That was a huge responsibility. And these AP classes were going to give her a run for her money. How was she going to find time to handle all of this?

  “Are you okay?”

  She glanced at him. “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You just looked like you were going to be sick there for a second.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just…” She hesitated, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. One blessedly came to mind. “Chicken patties,” she said.

  He nodded wisely. “I got you.”

  Four

  The final bell rang at 2:40 pm. Sleeping kids everywhere awoke to go home. Melody stood from her seat in the band room. Andy had this class with her, too, and stood from the seat next to her. She liked spending time with him, even if they were just sitting there learning about scales and intervals in music theory. It seemed like every time she was with him, she learned something new about him. Today she had learned that he did not shower after
gym class.

  “So, what are you doing tonight?” she asked, looking down at the books she was gathering up.

  He slung his backpack over one shoulder. “I dunno. Why?”

  “Do you want to do something?” she wanted to know. The two of them started their walk down the hallway.

  “Yeah, maybe,” he responded absently. “I was thinking of taking some pictures around the neighborhood before it gets cold—you know, to submit to the lit mag again this year. You could come with, if you want.”

  Andy was big on photography. He had gotten a digital camera from his mother for his fourteenth birthday and had taken it as a sign from God or something. He had barely gone anywhere without it. A new camera that he had gotten for his sixteenth birthday in February had replaced Old Faithful (as he had called it). He had told Melody on several occasions the model of the camera, along with its many incredible features, but all she could remember was that it was a Nikon and that it took better pictures than her phone could.

  The past two years, he had submitted several photos to the school’s literary magazine, The Inner Eye. His freshman year, they had been rejected, but the previous year, they had used one picture of a sunflower that he had taken and put it opposite some gooey love poem that a fourteen-year-old girl had written. Andy had been outraged.

  Melody had spoken to Cadie briefly earlier that day; Cadie had physics in the lab near her fifth period biology class, and they had crossed paths. She knew that her sister was probably going to accept the position of the literary magazine’s editor, and she almost blurted it out to Andy, but held it in. She was never very good at keeping secrets from Andy. Still, she was excited. If Cadie was the editor, Andy’s photos had more of a chance of being in the publication this year. And he had asked her to hang out with her. “Sure,” she said. “Where do you think you want to go?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he replied. “I’ll call you when I get home. Okay?”

  “Yeah, definitely,” she answered as the two of them came to the hallway’s intersection.