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* * *

I was feeling especially confident on Monday when the jocks paraded by our lockers and pushed Marcus again. Hard. One of them called Marcus his bitch.

I shot back, “Shut up! He’s straight, okay? Leave him alone. ” The second it left my lips, I wished I could’ve come up with something a little more quick-witted. Laz stood behind the other two guys. He averted his eyes, but certainty washed over me that this would get back to Jasmine, and probably Claire. The other two guys laughed and made faces at me as they all took off down the hall.

I gave Marcus an understanding pat on the shoulder. His jaw went rigid and he turned the opposite direction and walked away.

Marcus didn’t say a word backstage during drama later that day, either. Not one word, and it took me a minute to realize why. He hadn’t just been embarrassed about being teased earlier. He was mad. At me.

“Sorry about this morning, ” I said lightly. He still didn’t even glance in my direction. “So where should we start today? ” I had been excited about the few pictures I had developed and was ready to start talking about how they would work with the play.

Without turning toward me, he said, “We haven’t checked that upper storage platform yet. I’m going to the front office to see if there’s any budget at all for lumber. ” He was already walking away, and by his tone, this didn’t seem up for discussion.

Disappointment dug at me. Did he not want to do the photo-set anymore? I definitely couldn’t do it without his help. And, okay, what I had said to the jocks this morning was lame, I’ll admit it, but I was trying to stick up for him! How could he be mad at me about that?

I couldn’t even look through my photos, so depressed that the unique set we’d been planning might not happen. I spent the class up in the storage area, too sad to try to visualize using any of the small knickknacks up there for set pieces and instead just leafed aimlessly through smelly costumes.

I was sure I had somehow made things worse for Marcus. He could see it, and I just couldn’t. Maybe tomorrow the jocks would lock him right inside his locker. Or push him out of the locker room without his clothes—I’d heard about that happening to a guy last year.

Marcus didn’t show at our lockers after school, and the whole way home I couldn’t stop thinking of what I could do to make this better. What I could do that wouldn’t involve my big mouth.

My mind ricocheted to Claire. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my frustration toward her take over just because I’d found myself another friend. Maybe if I made an effort with Claire we could be friends again.

But the more I thought about it, the more we just seemed like not only two branches on a tree that had grown apart but two entirely different species.

* * *

That evening, Mom and I sat across the table from each other, slurping stew. Dad hadn’t made it home for dinner again, even though he’d told us he probably would. Claire had dropped by my locker between classes to ask me to tell Mom that she and Jasmine were going for sushi. Even though I’d sooner eat my own flesh than raw fish, I’d scrounged for an invitation from Claire. But she had just looked past me like she hadn’t heard a thing I said.

Mom barely acknowledged me at the dinner table, which made me feel even more insignificant. There was a new floor-to-ceiling shrub in the corner of our living room, and it seemed to be all she wanted to look at. It occurred to me how many new plants Mom had been collecting lately. Our house was starting to look like a greenhouse.

“Why don’t we put up some art? ” I asked. And then, because I wanted to broach the subject again, and maybe even sway Mom a little into liking Marcus, I added, “I could ask Marcus. I’m sure he could tell us where to get something nice. He’s really great with stuff like that. ” Even saying his name, I wondered if he’d ever talk to me again, about art or anything else. But hanging out at the Arts Club, I’d been more inspired with photography, and I could only imagine how much having something expressive at home might help.

“You need to get some nice girlfriends, Loann, ” Mom said matter-of-factly. “Look at Claire, she has Jasmine and Julia and Katie. . . ”

Look at Claire, the first three words I’d learned as a toddler.

“Whatever happened with you and Shayleen? ”

I obviously wasn’t going to tell Mom the whole story of the pink tank top. But I did have a few choice memories I could share if she pushed the issue. Like when Shayleen had told us all about her first time, right after the big seventh-grade sex talk. She had explained how we should all be jealous because she had already done it, and it was the most gentle and natural thing that could happen to a woman.

“You want me to be friends with Shayleen again? ” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know, honey, but Marcus. . . ” She shook her head.

The more I thought about Shayleen, the better Marcus seemed. Even though Mom didn’t know about how he’d been ignoring me, she was making me more determined than ever to patch things up with him. I tilted my bowl and slurped the last of my stew. I had to come up with a plan to solve things tomorrow.

I pushed my bowl away. “I’ve got homework. I’m going upstairs. ”

“The kitchen, please, Loann. ”

“Aw, Mom. It’s Claire’s turn. It’s been Claire’s turn for, like, a week now. ”

She put her head in her hands on the table. “Oh, Loann, why do you fight me? Can you just be helpful for once? ”

I snatched her bowl, grabbed my own, and headed through the door into the kitchen. As I loaded the dishwasher, I muttered away to myself, “Yeah, I’m the problem. I’m the one who doesn’t bother to show up for dinner, or invite her sister out, let alone do the dishes. Yeah, it’s all me. ” I knew I was just jealous of Claire, who did no wrong. My sister, who never seemed to screw up with her friends. I didn’t care. Gripping the dish sponge tightly in my hand, I wanted to let my jealousy swallow me up.

Ten minutes later, I’d almost calmed down when I overheard arguing from the dining room. I left the soup pot mid-scrub to lean in to the door and listen.

“Young lady, that’s the third time this week you haven’t been home for dinner. The least you could do is call. ”

“I told Loann to tell you, ” Claire said. “Besides, Mom, you would love this new sushi pla—”

“That’s not the point, Claire. You have a family, and we will eat dinner together. ”

Oh, just like Dad does was my first thought. But right at that second he traipsed through the front door, making a racket with his briefcase and shoes.

“You cook so much meat and potatoes, Mom. Or bring home take-out. ” She said the words as though they were one step below garbage. “I can’t eat that stuff. I swear, I put on five pounds every time I eat at home. ”

“Are you insulting my meals? ” I could picture Mom folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but look at me, I’ll gain from even looking at a slab of meat, and I have to stay fit for dance. You know that. I think I’m going to go vegetarian for a while. ”

“Oh, Claire. ” Mom let out a huge sigh.

With the sudden burst of an idea, I pushed through the door. “Actually, Mom, I’ve noticed you have been cooking a lot of beef lately. More vegetables might be a healthy choice for all of us. ”

Claire and Mom both looked at me, stunned for a second, but then Claire’s mouth turned up just a little on the edges. Perfect. Why hadn’t I thought of this earlier? There was an easy way to renew my friendship with Claire: show her I’m still an ally.

Of course, Mom’s mouth turned down. Way down.

“I mean, I really love your chicken casserole, ” I added, trying to intercept her rant. That was the one thing about ganging up on Mom. Sure, it got me in Claire’s good graces, but it turned Mom into one big throbbing vein of anger.

“How’s everybody today? ” Dad asked, clapping his hands together like he expected a chorus of Just dandy, Daddy! He hadn’t been home this early since before my birthday, and I suspected he had been looking forward to a few hours of relaxing family time.

“I better get to my homework, ” Claire said.

“You will be home for dinner tomorrow night, young lady, ” Mom said.

Claire took mouselike footsteps toward the stairs, giving Dad a kiss hello on her way. She didn’t even acknowledge Mom.

“You need to talk to her, Darren, ” Mom said to Dad, shaking her head. “She won’t listen to me, and you’re always home so late, you practically never see the girls. ”

Great. The blame game. And as I could predict, Dad made for his escape route—the kitchen—before she even finished her thought. Since I didn’t want to be her target either, I bolted to my bedroom.

So much for relaxing family time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I had a plan for fixing things with Marcus.

I cut out of English the second the bell rang the next day and raced straight for the auditorium. No sign of Marcus yet. Perfect. I climbed the rickety metal ladder.

By the time I heard him, I was ready.

At first he just marched for our box of photography supplies and flipped through my photos without even bothering to see if I was around. I was happy that he was looking through the photos again, though. At least he wasn’t giving up on that idea. And he’d shown up for class, so he couldn’t be that mad at me.

“Hey, Marcus, I need some help up here. ” I squished myself back away from the edge of the storage platform so he wouldn’t be able to see me.

“Where are you? ” he asked after a long pause. His voice didn’t sound as annoyed as yesterday. It didn’t exactly sound pleasant, either.

“Up here. I just can’t”—I added a grunt for good measure—“get this box down. ”

Seconds later, I heard him on the ladder. He stepped onto the platform before he looked in my direction. The storage area was small, a few feet at most, with boxes piled up along one edge. Even in the dim light, my eyes adjusted quickly and I suspected his would too.

He stared first at my baggy blue pants. Then at my shiny gold vest. And finally at the white turban balanced carefully on my head. But I knew this wouldn’t be enough to cheer him up.

I stroked a small lamp, and then said in some sort of accent that even I couldn’t place, “Poof! Congratulations! The genie grants you three wishes for finding her, kind sir. ”

I caught just the slightest twitch to his lip. He was trying to hide his amusement. Or at least, I hoped so.

“There is only one condition, ” I told him. “One condition, I say. You can have three wishes, any wishes in the world. ” I moved my hands in a big circle. “But first you must forgive all your friends with big mouths. ”

Now he couldn’t hold back a smile.

“And not just the tall ones, ” I babbled in my silly accent. “The short ones, too! ”

He took a step toward me. “Hmmm. What should I wish for? ”

I waggled my finger back and forth in his face. “No, no, no. There must be forgiveness first. ”

He took another step toward me, so he was close enough to take the lamp from my hands. I felt strangely defenseless without it. “My friends, ” he said in barely a whisper, “all one of them, are forgiven. ” His low voice made me shiver.

He stroked the lamp a little and my heart galloped. I didn’t know what he was wishing for, but I was wishing he’d come a little closer.

And then he did. My gold vest almost touched his shirt.

“So, three wishes, huh? ” He set the lamp in an open box beside him. Now we were both defenseless. He looked at me with serious eyes, but not the kind that made me wonder what I’d done wrong. The kind that made me wonder what I’d done right.

Is Marcus going to kiss me? I wondered. And why, oh why, do I have to be wearing a turban for it?

He reached over and touched a curl that had popped out from beneath the turban and pushed it back. Of course it didn’t stay, but he held his hand there like he wasn’t sure where to put it.

I wanted to tell him—put it on my face, on my shoulder, on my hair, I didn’t care at this point. Just put it somewhere! But a loud bang made us both jump and he pulled his hand away fast.

Someone had opened the stage door too wide on their way in. Voices echoed from down below, but Shayleen’s carried above the rest.

“It’s about time Mr. B let us use class time to figure out our blocking. ”

Marcus took a step away from me. My heart sank. As the sounds of other students got louder, my adrenaline kicked in and I started to unfasten the complicated buttons on my vest.

Shayleen led several other members of our drama class onto the stage and ordered them to stand in different places. One guy nearest the curtains on our side whispered loudly, “Who died and made her director? ”

A couple more students came through the door below us. I recognized Deirdre’s short hair. Even though I slid my vest off silently, I guess the shiny gold caught the light. Deirdre looked up at us, shading her eyes so she could see past the glare of stage lights.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Deirdre and I hadn’t talked since things went sour with Shayleen. I held my breath, but seconds later, she let out a little giggle.

If there was one thing I knew about Deirdre, it was this: she didn’t know how to pull off a mocking giggle—the kind Shayleen had perfected. Deirdre genuinely thought my outfit was funny. And if she thought that, maybe she didn’t hate me as much as Shayleen did.

I brought a finger to my lips, hoping I had it right. She nodded, but before she turned for the stage, Shayleen came barreling toward her.

“We’re waiting for you! ” she said in an angry tone. “What are you laughing—” she looked up. I took a step back toward the boxes and eyed the ladder that went further up to the lighting catwalk. But it was too late.

“What on earth is she doing? ” Shayleen said, loud enough that everyone onstage looked up at Marcus and me.

I tried to quickly remove the turban, but it caught in my hair—stupid curls—and I ended up leaving it tilted on my head while Shayleen marched for the side door.

I could hear her calling Mr. Benson even after the door slammed behind her.

* * *

Marcus and I were just climbing down the ladder—with a whole audience of Shayleen’s cronies watching us—by the time Mr. Benson came backstage.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Benson, ” I said. “We were just checking through the costumes to see if any props were buried in them. I guess we got carried away. ”

Shayleen spoke over me. “Obviously that costume is completely inappropriate for the performance. They think this show is some kind of a joke! Some excuse to stay back here and play dress-up without doing any real work. ” She huffed and crossed her arms. “And we all know Loann would do just about anything to be alone with a guy. ”

“Is this true? ” Mr. Benson asked, turning to me. I wasn’t quite sure what his question was, and even if I did, I doubted I could form anything other than a gurgle.

But before I had a chance to embarrass myself further, Marcus appeared beside me holding a box. Our photography box.

“We’ve been working really hard, ” Marcus said, setting the box down and pulling out the envelope of my favorite photos from the top. He passed them to Mr. Benson, who opened it and looked inside.

Marcus continued. “Since there’s not much in the way of usable supplies—”

“And since these pictures go so well with the theme—” I interjected.

“We’re going to try to do a photo-set, on the back scrim there, ” Marcus finished. I pointed to the back wall of white. The class turned to look as we waited for Mr. Benson to say something.

“Ptff, as if that’ll work, ” Shayleen murmured behind me. “And leave the stage totally empty? Yeah, that’ll look great. ” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue and I was sure if I looked down I’d see a pool of it on the floor.

All the other students looked between my pictures and our teacher, waiting to see how he would react. Should they take Shayleen’s side and start mocking Marcus and me, or go on ignoring us as usual?

“Brilliant! ” Mr. Benson finally said. “I can’t wait to see it! ”

While everyone else stared up at the white scrim, trying to picture it, Marcus reached over and squeezed my hand.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The backstage area swarmed with students until the end of class. I kept looking at Marcus. I wanted so much to have another moment with him, at least an unspoken understanding, but he didn’t meet my eyes. I hated Shayleen for ruining things.

I didn’t see Marcus again until after school at our lockers.

“Arts Club? ” he asked, without looking at me.

I tilted my head to try to see more of his face, to figure out what he was thinking. Did he wish we hadn’t been interrupted on that upper platform as much as I did?

“Actually, I can’t today, ” I said, trying to get a reaction from him. “I have a dentist appointment at three. ” It was true, and I should’ve been headed to the front doors to meet Mom so we wouldn’t be late.

His mouth turned down slightly. Was that. . . disappointment?

“I wish I could stay today, ” I said, hoping he’d catch my genie innuendo. “I really wish I could. ”

He pursed his lips. Then he shook a finger back and forth in front of me. “Uh, uh, uh. You can’t get me to waste one of my wishes on a silly dentist appointment. ”

A wave of relief hit me and a loud laugh escaped.

“I guess we’ll save those wishes for another day then, hmm? ” he said with raised eyebrows.

My skin tickled with goose bumps. I stood there in a daze, staring at him until he said, “It’s ten to three. Don’t you have to go? ”

“I, uh, oh yeah. Or I could just stand here staring all day. ” After shutting my locker, I backed away, I guess to make my embarrassing moment last a little bit longer. But he held up a hand to wave, just held it in the air like he was almost as dumbfounded as I was.

I practically skipped from the school to Mom’s car. Then even into the dentist’s office, of all horrible places. But it was the best dentist appointment ever. I lay there on the chair, closed my eyes, and relived our time in that upper storage area.

The only problem was, my dentist had to keep telling me to open my mouth wider, because I was grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

That night at dinner, true to her word, Claire helped herself to only the vegetables on the table.

“Here, ” Mom said, passing her a big casserole dish. “I made it meatless, just for you. ” Mom forced a smile in Claire’s direction, as if to say: Just try to say no after I made this especially for you!

It took Claire a second, but she reached for the dish. We both knew Mom could be like a drill sergeant, the way she never let up on anything.

Claire helped herself to a small half-spoonful, and then eyed Dad, who had actually made it home for dinner. Claire took a fuller spoonful and cleared her throat. I was sure she was trying to come up with an argument about being scared her grad dress wouldn’t fit, or another reason she didn’t want Mom’s casserole, but then she said, “Hey, Dad, I’ve been looking through housing brochures for college, and they have some great single rooms on campus. ”

I wasn’t sure why she was using her suck-up voice until Dad balked. “A single room? They’re three times the price. We talked about this. I thought you said Jasmine was going. ”

“Yeah, she is. ” Claire didn’t say anything else, so it left me to wonder: Why wasn’t Claire eager to share a room with Jasmine? Was Jaz already set to share a place with Laz? But why wouldn’t Claire just say that, if that was the case?

The conversation died quickly and Claire just stabbed at her food, taking a bite every ten or twenty jabs, like she was angry at the casserole.

When I finished, I went straight for my room, glad to not be on dish-duty. I glanced at the homework on my desk halfheartedly, then plunked down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking more about what Marcus’s first wish might be.

My stomach made noises while digesting and I looked down at it. The only time it flattened out was when I lay on my back.

Vegetarian, huh? But who was I kidding? I couldn’t live off of vegetables. My stomach let out an extra growl at even the thought of it.

But still, after my day with Marcus, I wondered if I should start watching what I ate. And maybe dressing a little nicer.

* * *

The next morning I spent more than half an hour picking out my clothes for school. I didn’t end up choosing anything that mind-blowing, but I wore the jeans that made my butt look the best and a green tee that complemented my dark hair.

Eager to get to my locker—to mine and Marcus’s—I wove through the hallways, which were scattered with members of the grad committee putting up banners and posters.

Instead of finding him there, though, Deirdre stood by my locker. She let out a quiet sigh when I reached her. I usually diverted my path when Shayleen and Deirdre were together—who needed to deal with whatever they were dishing out? —but Deirdre on her own? I bit back a smile. Maybe we could get past things.

“Hi, ” she said, still sounding somber. I spun my lock and popped it off.

“Um. . . hi. ” I gave her an awkward smile.

“Great picture. ” She pointed to a recent portrait of our neighbor’s dog I’d taped inside my locker door.

“Thanks. ” I paused, wondering if I should ask. “Where’s Shayleen? ”

“I don’t know, ” Deirdre replied quietly, picking at her thumbnail. “Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to, you know, get you into trouble. ”

She was just as nice as I remembered, and I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought she was a bitch like Shayleen. Still, I was sure she didn’t want to go head-to-head with Queen Tantrum for talking to me.

When I thought I heard Shayleen’s voice, I blurted, “Oh, no problem. Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. ” I shut the door, gave her a half-wave, and walked away.

By drama period I knew Marcus wasn’t in school. He hadn’t looked sick yesterday, and I personally wouldn’t have missed seeing him today if I’d had pneumonia. But I tried not to be offended. I tried not to let depression take over as I sat alone at lunch, headed home alone after school, and realized how unevenly yoked our friendship probably was.

Marcus had likely always been a loner and could deal with it. But I found it really hard to get used to. It wasn’t like I’d had the largest circle of friends, but still, having someone to sit with at lunch meant a lot to me.

As I fed my books into my locker the next day, my mind stayed on Marcus. Would he miss another whole day of school? I was just shutting my locker when Deirdre came up and just started talking.

“So we had a fight. Shayleen and me, ” she clarified. “It’s not. . . she’s not the type of person I want to be friends with. So, it’s cool. ” She motioned between us.

It was weird. I’d never really spent much time around Deirdre without Shayleen. They’d always been better friends than Deirdre and me. But I wasn’t complaining. “What was the fight about? ” I asked.

She nibbled her lip and stared at the floor. “Oh, nothing. You know, just one of those things. ”

“She’s not going to hear you, you know. ” I looked up and down the hall. No one paid us the least bit of attention.

After a moment, she shrugged. “I, uh. . . I told Ben Kroeker something I shouldn’t have. ”

“Something she said you shouldn’t have? ” I didn’t look away, hoping Deirdre would see she could trust me.

“Well, yeah. ” A small smile crossed her face.

By her quiet voice, it didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about any of it. “Whatever. It’s none of my business. ”

Later that day, without so much as a hello, she said, “All I told him was that she was a tease. The truth is, she’s also a liar. I should’ve told him that part too. ”

That’s it? I just assumed it had been a fight over me—I’d imagined Shayleen had gone on about finding me in the genie costume with Marcus; about how our photo-set would probably ruin the whole play. To which Deirdre would have defended me.

But no. It had nothing to do with me. “Hmm, ” I replied, letting this new information settle in.

Deirdre didn’t have many other friends now that Shayleen wasn’t on her side, and I knew what that felt like. People seemed to follow loudmouths like Shayleen, probably afraid to get trampled by them. But I knew Deirdre would attract new friends soon enough and surely would not turn into an outcast like me.

* * *

Over dinner that night, I interrupted Mom and Claire gabbing about Claire getting her makeup professionally done for prom, and brought up my renewed friendship with Deirdre. I suspected Claire would be glad. And if she wasn’t, Mom sure would be.

“We’ve been talking quite a bit, ” I said.

“Hmm. I don’t remember which one she is. ” Claire flipped a page in her magazine and ignored the salad in front of her.

Figured. I knew every single one of Claire’s friends, who they were friends with, who their siblings were, what kind of cars they drove. But Claire, she didn’t know the very small trio of people I’d shared my entire school life with. I took a deep breath and resigned myself that I wasn’t going to impress her anyway.

“You should try the yams, ” I said, passing them over to Claire to change the subject. “What did you put on them, Mom? ”

Mom started to answer—just butter, salt, and sugar—when Claire interrupted, not even glancing at the bowl in my hands.

“Is she one of the ones who made that big scene yesterday? ” Claire asked.

I crinkled my eyebrows. “Who? ”

“Deirdre. Your friend. ”

Deirdre? A scene? “I don’t think so. ”

“Didn’t you see that big fight in the cafeteria? ” Claire flipped through her cell phone, even though she wasn’t supposed to have it at the dinner table. She had yet to take a bite of her plate full of salad, and I wondered why Mom wasn’t on her about it.

“I haven’t been eating in the cafeteria, but I’m sure it wasn’t her. ” Marcus and I usually ate our lunches in the backstage area, since it was always deserted and it gave us a chance to brainstorm more set ideas, but I’d been on my own there since he’d been absent.

“Yeah, I was wondering about that. Where do you eat, Loey? ”

“Here and there. ” I wanted information. “Tell me about the fight. ”

Claire moved a tomato from side to side, not answering right away. Mom had also made pasta, but Claire refused it, saying she still felt bloated from lunch. It was obvious that Claire’s diet was getting crazy deficient. Was Mom just going to let her eat—or not eat—whatever she wanted until prom?

“Well, it was so funny”—Claire leaned in toward me conspiratorially—“they walk in, giggling together, and all of a sudden Shayleen slams down her tray and starts yelling that Deirdre’s sleeping around with, like, five guys. The teachers broke it up right away, of course, but not before Shayleen started naming all these guys and saying only a skank would sleep around like that! ”

“Claire, that’s enough. Those aren’t nice things to say. ” Mom stood up from the table and started to clear the dishes. I was still trying to process Claire’s story. She must have had it backward. Deirdre had hardly dated since I’d known her. Though I couldn’t exactly picture Deirdre using the word “skank” about Shayleen, either. Even if she was mad.

“I didn’t say them, Mom. I’m just relaying the story. Loey deserves to know. These are her friends. ”

Mom shot me an accusing look.

“They are not! ” I scowled, wishing I could take back the whole conversation.

“Oh yeah, right, ” Claire added. “Marcus is your friend. ” She looked down at her salad with a smug smile. I didn’t have a clue what I’d done to her. I mean, every time Josh had been in her room, I’d kept quiet. I hadn’t pried into her secrets. We’d always defended each other to our parents.