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My fists clenched beneath the table as I fumed, ready to say something to get back at her. But as mad as I was, I’d never done that before, and it just felt wrong. Thankfully Dad tromped through the door, interrupting my rage.

“Hey, honey, I wanted to send a check to the university for your deposit, ” he said to Claire. “Is your housing application all filled out? ”

Claire had just looked at her phone two seconds ago, but she pulled it out again.

“Claire? ” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah. I kind of wanted to talk to you about that, Dad. ” Claire switched to her magazine and flipped another page. Was she nervous about something? My anger was edged out by curiosity.

“What’s there to talk about? I thought you said it was due by the fifteenth. ”

Claire nodded into her magazine. “Yeah, it is. For this year, ” she added after a second.

Dad started to say something, but stopped with half of an unintelligible word out of his mouth. Mom came back from the kitchen and seemed to catch on faster than the rest of us.

“For this year? What are you talking about, Claire? ” Her tone was that patronizing, all-business one she usually used on me. “You’re going to college this year. ”

“Wait. What? ” Dad looked between Claire and Mom. My invisibility cloak seemed to be working. “You’re thinking of deferring? Now? ”

“No way. ” Mom said. “Not a chance. ”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, ” Claire said, now looking up at them. “I do. And I will, ” she pleaded. She watched Dad until he met her eyes. “It’s just that the University of Wisconsin is so generic, and I don’t even know what I would major in yet. Mrs. Avery thinks I might be able to get into a performing arts school with my grades and experience, and if I work really hard at ballet this year—”

“Mrs. Avery is suggesting that you skip college? ” Mom sounded like she was ready to send Claire’s poor ballet teacher to prison. For life. On another night, I might have come to Claire’s rescue. But not after the whole Deirdre/Marcus conversation. It didn’t matter, Dad took my place.

“I’m sure that’s not what Mrs. Avery meant, Beth, ” Dad said. It came so naturally for him to take an opposing side against Mom that I wondered if he’d even thought about what he was agreeing to.

“It’s not, ” Claire confirmed, and I could suddenly see it as though the words were painted on a scoreboard above them: Team A = Dad and Claire; Team B = Mom, all on her own.

As expected, Mom put up a fight, but Claire fought her right to the end. Dad cited all sorts of excuses about how another year would give them something to pay on the Visa.

It was settled. Claire would take the year off college to practice her plié s. And Mom couldn’t do a thing about it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On my way to my room that night, I knocked on Claire’s door. She’d been pretty argumentative with Mom at the table, and I knew from experience that could drain a good chunk of emotional energy. I thought Claire might want to come to my room to talk.

She didn’t answer at first, so I knocked again. Seconds later, our toilet flushed, and I heard the door open from the bathroom into her room.

I knocked again.

“What? ” She sounded exasperated, like she’d heard the first two knocks and ignored them.

“It’s just me, ” I said.

I waited, but she didn’t tell me to come in or anything. After a few long seconds, she said. “I’m not in the mood, Loann. ”

I stood there, stunned. At first I felt hurt—why would she talk to me that way? I hadn’t even been part of the whole postponing-college conversation. But then I grew angry. She was getting her way, not to mention, if I was lucky enough to get early acceptance into college, I sure wouldn’t throw it away like it was nothing. Besides that, I was trying to be nice, and Claire thought I was a nuisance?

I stomped to my room and shut my door behind me. We usually leave both bathroom doors open a crack so we each know when it’s not occupied, but Claire had obviously forgotten to crack mine.

The simple mistake made me even angrier.

I marched over and yanked it open, but a weird stench made me push it shut again. Okay, so maybe her stomach was intolerant to this vegetarian thing. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well and her bad attitude had nothing to do with me. I guess she was entitled to have a bad night.

* * *

The next day, Marcus returned to school. I couldn’t help grinning like a Cheshire cat when I saw him at our lockers. He smiled weakly back. I picked at my fingernail, immediately feeling insecure. He wasn’t as happy to see me as I was to see him. Not even close.

“I’ve got to get to class early to find out what I missed, ” he said without inflection. “But I thought we could meet at the computer lab at lunchtime to work on our photo-set. Sound good? ”

I nodded, trying not to let my disappointment show. I thought we’d have time to catch up and talk about more personal stuff during lunch backstage. So much for that. So much for any private time.

When I arrived at the computer lab two minutes after the lunch bell, Marcus was already at work behind one of the terminals near the teacher’s desk. I sighed. Two other students worked at the back of the room, and didn’t even lift their heads when I arrived.

“Hey. ” I plopped down in the chair beside him and splayed the photos out on the desk.

His mouth turned down. I wondered if he really had to rush off this morning. Was he trying to avoid me, or had I inadvertently done something wrong again?

Marcus pointed to a contraption on the other side of him. “Put one facedown in the scanner. I’m going to see what kind of quality I can get. ”

I did as he instructed and watched as he scanned the photo, then resized it, and added all sorts of effects. My eyes widened as Marcus’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Yeah, I don’t think the caricature look is going to work for this play, ” I said, forcing a laugh at something he was trying on the screen.

“Hmm, I guess not. ” Marcus smiled a little now, and I hoped my laugh had broken the tension. “What about sepia tones on the house photo for the beginning of the play? ”

I handed him the picture and he nodded, slipping it into the scanner. When he adjusted the color and then enlarged it, my mouth opened in awe. All this time I’d been thinking a photo-set could be okay, passable. But now. . . I really thought it could be great. My heart thumped with excitement. And from the way Marcus’s fingers paused typing, I suspected his did too.

When I opened my locker after last class, caught in the crack between my door and Marcus’s was a blown up vignette of my squirrel picture. I caught it just before it hit the ground. I’d left all my pictures with Marcus for the afternoon, since he had computer class after lunch. He’d obviously fiddled around with it. The background was now muted tones, with the bright brown squirrel standing out in the middle. I loved it.

I studied it with wide eyes, marveling at not only his talent but also at mine. How could two different people with opposite abilities come up with something so beautiful?

Suddenly Deirdre appeared beside me.

“Hey, Loann. A few of us are going swimming this afternoon. Want to come? ”

I blinked. Well, I wasn’t wrong about her finding a new set of friends quickly, but she seriously still wanted to hang out with me?

“Uh, I can’t today, ” I said. Even though Marcus and I hadn’t made official plans, I figured now that he was back, we’d for sure go to the Arts Club today. “But thanks, ” I added.

“Well, maybe next time. ” She fiddled with the edge of her binder. “Hey, cool picture! ” She pointed to the squirrel in my hands.

I nodded. She jabbered on. Something about the swimming pool and her new friends, but all I could hear was Cool picture resonating again and again in my ears.

I waited around, but Marcus didn’t show at our lockers. He wasn’t at the computer lab, either. Not that I’d have gone swimming with Deirdre and her friends, whom I didn’t know, anyway, but I tried hard to swallow my frustration.

Was Marcus trying to give me a hint—he would work with me on the set, but that’s all he wanted?

I nibbled at my lip, looking around one more time for him.

Shayleen came tromping down the hallway right then. I hated to admit it, but the jeans and short cardigan she wore made her look really good. She was having a great hair day, too. I suddenly felt frumpy.

“Where’s your boyfriend? ” Shayleen scoffed. “Get stood up for another guy? ”

“I’m not—” I stopped myself. I didn’t owe her any explanation, and I knew she was just trying to rile me up. She used to do it in a good way, like when we had sleepovers at Deirdre’s and Shayleen had us both thinking we’d be marrying the guys we were crushing on.

It’s not like I was scared of Shayleen—well, not in any physical way. But she knew a lot about me. Not just that I’d wanted to kiss Josh Garrison, but lots of things about how insecure I was about boys. I didn’t want to give her any more reason to try to hurt me.

Turning back to my locker, I grabbed my history notebook and shoved it into my backpack, even though I didn’t have history homework.

I didn’t turn around again until her footsteps echoed down the hall.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I came home to find Josh, with his head down, walking for his car.

“Hey, ” I said, forcing some volume so he’d be sure to hear me.

He looked up and his face broke into a smile. “Hey, yourself. ”

“Leaving already? ” I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. My mouth seemed to be spewing them without the help of my brain.

He glanced to the upper floor of our house and pursed his lips like he wasn’t sure what to say. Then he just looked back at me and nodded. I wondered if he and Claire had a fight. Josh didn’t make a move for his car, but I had no idea what else to say. I really needed to take a class in Small Talk with Boys.

“Not out with your boyfriend today? ” he asked.

I looked at him blankly. Did he mean Marcus? How would he even know about him? Did he and Claire talk about us—about me? “Marcus? He’s not. . . my boyfriend, ” I said finally, looking down at my feet with a twinge of regret. I’d always known I didn’t have a chance with someone like Josh, but I guess I had let myself get my hopes up with Marcus. Now it didn’t look like that was going anywhere either.

“Huh. ” Josh reached for his door handle. “Too bad for him. ”

I stood in my driveway with my mouth hanging open, unable to form a good-bye, until Josh had driven down our street and turned the corner.

When I could finally prod myself in the front door, I smelled his lingering cologne. And the aroma lasted all the way up the stairs.

Claire’s door was shut, so I suspected she was putting her prim appearance back together after a quickie. A strong pang of jealousy hit and I headed back downstairs to grab some food to distract myself. Claire’s uneaten lunch wasn’t on the counter. Even though I knew I shouldn’t be angry about that—it was her lunch, after all—I was. But also, when I opened the fridge, the pan of leftover lasagna had disappeared. Had Claire fed it, and all of its protein, to Josh? Lasagna was my favorite. I checked the sink, the cupboards, even the garbage, but the pan wasn’t anywhere.

I didn’t see it until I walked past Claire’s empty bedroom to go down for dinner later. I nudged open her door with my foot—just trying to see her room through Josh’s eyes for a second—and there on her dresser sat the empty pan.

Even if he had a huge appetite, I found it hard to believe Josh could have eaten all of it. So Claire would only eat vegetables at the table with our parents, but she’d feast on meat and pasta all afternoon with sweet, wonderful Josh? Was her dinner-table eating all an act to one-up Mom? I don’t know why it got to me. Honestly, I wasn’t mad about missing out on a delicious after-school snack. I could probably use the calorie curb, but my whole body still heated up in a jealous rage.

Why did Claire always get exactly what she wanted, and I couldn’t even seem to get the scraps?

“Where’s the lasagna? ” I said pointedly to Mom across the dinner table. I looked over at Claire, too, but she kept her face in her cell phone.

“Eat what I made you first, Loann, ” Mom said, her eyes in the newspaper as she chewed a bite of potatoes. It used to be an unwritten rule that we spent dinnertimes focused on one another. Now I felt like I needed to bring a book to the table just to fit in.

“Yeah, I know, but there’s none left. ”

She sighed. “Is it gone already? ” She said it like Ho-hum, another thing to buy.

“There was half a pan yesterday, ” I added.

“Hmm? ” Mom said, without looking up. She was no help at all.

Claire had stopped studying her cell to look at me. She mouthed the word, “Sorry. ”

At first, I thought she was sorry because she understood that she got everything and I got nothing. But after a second I realized it was just about the lasagna. Still, she flashed me a smile, and my grudge softened.

She did deserve Josh. She did. I was just feeling insecure about Marcus.

And when Marcus was cold to me again Monday, only talking about our set, my normal playful comments took a turn for the worse. “Let me guess—you want to spend lunch staring at a computer again. ” With all the times Marcus had jilted me lately, my tone came out more sarcastic than I meant it. On the upside, in my free time I’d been taking some excellent photographs around town. Mr. Dewdney had also started letting me use class time to develop photos when I told him about our drama project.

Our check-ins with Mr. Benson were going extremely well. The more he saw of our photo-display backdrop, the more he appreciated our ingenuity. Aside from the need to go back and resize a few things, they looked even more impressive on the scrim at the back of the stage than I had expected. A forest of trees appeared on the right of the scrim, with my cute little squirrel blown up on the left. Mr. Benson hovered over us in the sound booth of the auditorium, but I barely noticed him.

“That looks so. . . amazing, ” I said as Marcus flipped his PowerPoint onto the next image, a house that Marcus had doctored up to look like a cabin in the woods.

He nudged his leg against mine under the computer desk. “Yeah, it does. ”

We hadn’t been close since that day up in the costume storage—we’d barely made eye contact—and the sudden touch felt shockingly friendly.

Mr. Benson jabbered on about how each photo would work with the play, not noticing our silent connection. I hadn’t even been planning on going to the play, since Shayleen had been bragging through the hallways for weeks about her part in it. But now, seeing our art up there on the big screen. . . how could I miss it?

“So do we get complimentary tickets or something? ” Marcus asked, reading my mind.

“Oh, I think that’s the least we can do, ” Mr. Benson said. And I could tell by his tone that Marcus and I could expect something better than a B this term.

But as excited as I was, I felt sad, too. Now that the set was pretty much done, Marcus and I would no longer get to spend drama block alone. We wouldn’t be working toward something together. And with summer looming, I started to fear that we might lose touch completely.

Through the next weeks, life whizzed by, though, and I didn’t end up having much time to think about it. My exam schedule was heavy and I studied most afternoons. Marcus and I still sat together in drama class and he flashed me the occasional smirk. The class was small; only a handful of us weren’t off rehearsing for the play. At least I only had to see Shayleen’s daily glare for the first few minutes of each class.

Mr. Benson had bragged about our photo-set during our first class back in the drama room, and Shayleen hadn’t wasted any time telling him she hoped someone “professional” would be running the computer for rehearsals.

She obviously didn’t want us around, which was just fine with me. Things started to feel more relaxed between Marcus and me, and I started to wonder if this was better: being back in a classroom, where things were less threatening.

* * *

Coming up to opening night of the play, I didn’t bother to tell my parents about the photo-set we’d done, since Claire’s grad, and all of the many events surrounding it, obviously took priority. When they were home, Mom and Dad bantered constantly about which nights each of them would have to take off work to drive Claire and her friends around. I sure didn’t want to be an extra obligation on their schedule.

I met Marcus outside the school on opening night.

It hadn’t occurred to me to change out of the jeans and T-shirt I’d worn to school that day—I mean, it was a school event—but it surprised me that Marcus now wore khaki pants with a navy button-down shirt. I felt embarrassed at my inability to be a normal girl who knew when to dress up for things. And because I was so embarrassed, it took me way too long to choke out some words.

“You look really nice, ” I said.

He let out a breathy laugh, like he either didn’t believe me or was equally embarrassed by my comment. He led the way to the door and handed the ushers our tickets. They directed us toward the front of the auditorium.

“Wow, ” I whispered as we sat down. “First row? ”

“You don’t know how good your pictures are, Loann. ”

My face warmed. Now it felt like we were on a date. I stared straight ahead at the sepia cabin picture, the one that would fill the scrim until the play started, and gripped my armrests. “It wouldn’t have worked at all without your expertise, ” I said, barely able to get out the words.

Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t the comfortable silence from the Arts Club. No, this was different. I fidgeted with the side of my armrest and turned over my ticket stub again and again in my hands. Marcus sat totally still. Rigid. It was a relief when the lights finally dimmed.

Fifteen minutes into the play, Marcus leaned in and whispered, “The backdrop is the best part. ” His warm breath tickled my neck and his arm rested against mine on the armrest. I nibbled at the inside of my lip.

The people beside me murmured about the set, and oohs and ahhs sounded each time the picture faded into a new one, which made me flush even more. It wasn’t until right before the intermission that I realized I hadn’t seen Shayleen yet. I knew some of the parts had been trimmed due to time, because Mr. Benson had talked about it during drama class, and most of the lead parts had been given to seniors. But still, where was she? I was about to ask Marcus when all of a sudden, there she was: stage right.

“Wow, ” she said in an overprojected voice. “I think I like it out here! ” Ironically, she made a motion to the back of the stage, to our photo-set with a picture of an open expanse of overgrown grass and wildflowers, when she said it. She swept across the stage like a windstorm, distracting the audience from all the other actors until finally she exited off of stage left. And that. . . was the last we saw of her.

Even though I really wanted to gloat, at least inwardly, part of me felt bad for Shayleen. I’d seen many of her outrageous attempts at being noticed over the years. But I don’t know, her trying to make her one line into something it wasn’t just seemed so public and embarrassing. Even though she could be mean, I’ve always known that it was because she just didn’t feel good enough.

On our way out of the theater after the show, Mr. Benson called Marcus and me over to where he stood in the lobby. “I’d like you to meet our set designers. A couple of my most creative students, ” he exclaimed to his friends, some faculty members from his old college. “They came up with the setting for the play all on their own. ”

Nods of approval came at us from every direction. I stood there, soaking up their compliments, until I felt Marcus’s tight grip on my arm. My overactive sweat glands reappeared, even more so when he leaned in and whispered, “Can we go now? ”

I made a big deal of thanking the teachers, telling them we didn’t want to keep them, and then nudged our way out of the circle and toward the front doors.

When we were almost there, Shayleen came into view, surrounded by her mom, who I recognized, and a few other vaguely familiar family members. They all chatted among themselves, ignoring Shayleen. Over the years I’d been to plenty of Claire’s dance performances, and afterward all the dancers could be found in the lobby with their families. But the focus was always on them. I suddenly felt worse for Shayleen. No matter how small of a part, your family should be there for you, congratulating you after the show. Shayleen shifted from side to side, like she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Since we were close enough, I veered slightly toward her and tapped her on the side of the arm.

She looked at me with surprise. Before she registered why I was tapping her, I rushed on with my words. “Good job up there, Shayleen. ”

Her eyes scanned my face and her forehead crinkled.

“That’s all I wanted to say, ” I told her, and headed for the door. It wasn’t like I was trying to repair our friendship. At all. I didn’t want to be her friend. Tonight, I don’t know, I just couldn’t leave her feeling that way.

When we were outside, Marcus walked slower than usual, keeping pace with me instead of rushing on ahead like he usually did. The way he kept glancing over, I could tell he wanted to say something, and I’ll admit, my hopes rose that it might be about us. The two of us. Together. I tried to give him a meaningful look that said, Whatever it is, you can tell me.

We walked in silence for a while. Then he said, “That was pretty cool, what you said to Shayleen. ”

Even though Shayleen was not the subject I wanted to be on, I loved that he understood how hard it was for me to compliment her. But at the same time, I wasn’t trying to get her back on my side or anything. He understood it all without me having to say it. “Thanks. ”

He nodded, and didn’t say anything else for at least a block. “I’ve never had a friend like you, Loann. ” He looked up at the cloudless, darkening sky. “Someone who just accepts me for who I am. Someone who understands things and doesn’t ask questions all the time. ”

Even though I really wanted to know how he felt about me, I decided right then that I would do my best to keep my mouth shut.

Maybe all my questions didn’t need answers.

At least, not quite yet.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

With most of my exams, the play, and all the set work over, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I hated going home after school because Jasmine and Claire were always there, talking nonstop about grad dresses and nails and hairstyles. I was eager for Marcus to ask me to do something, anything, with him.

He didn’t.

Since I wondered if going to the Arts Club felt too much like dating to him, I came up with another idea.

“Hey, it’s pretty warm out today, ” I said at our lockers after last period. “There’s an old bridge down by the river. It’s where I got the picture for the closing scene of the play. ”

Marcus nodded like he was remembering.

“You want to go? ”

He agreed, and twenty minutes later we were dangling our legs from the bridge over the water. Nobody had been here when I’d photographed it, and the place appeared deserted again.

“So I don’t have your phone number, ” I said casually, picking at a rock that was wedged between the bridge planks. My voice betrayed me, as usual, and I was sure the insecurity I felt came through.

Marcus scribbled something on a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it over. “Here’s my e-mail, but I don’t always get to check it. ”

He didn’t say why he didn’t want to give me a phone number, or if he even had a cell. I’d never seen him use one, but then I hardly used mine, so that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Marcus had always been so private, and I remembered how much he liked the fact that I didn’t pry. With things already on shaky ground, I decided not to ask.

Instead I told him, “My mom asked me if I’d do some photos of Claire for grad. She didn’t like the ones from the school. ”

He pulled himself up to lean on the upper rail of the bridge. “You’d be good at that. ”

I looked down at my lap. “Well, to be honest, I’m kind of nervous about it. I’m sure she’d rather hire a real photographer. I haven’t shot many people before. ”

Marcus scoffed. “Photography is one thing you don’t have to be nervous about, Loey. ”

He’d never called me Loey before. I liked it. “Will you help me? ”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t need me there. ”

“But I do. ” I stood and leaned against the railing beside him. “You keep me calm. I couldn’t have done the photo-set without all your ideas and your help learning how to develop them. ” I didn’t know how to explain how much his confidence in me had helped.

The way he rubbed at his hands, I could tell he didn’t want to do it. He was probably waiting for me to let him off the hook, but I really, really wanted him there.

Finally, without even giving me an answer, he said, “We should probably head back. ”

We walked all the way to the main road before he said, “You know you’ll owe me one, right? ”

* * *

The last week of classes zoomed by. Shayleen didn’t pay much attention to me in drama, but seemed to have flanked herself with a few new male friends who all sat at the front of the class with her. Deirdre started sitting with me and Marcus, and we talked more, but mostly about school stuff.

I figured I could ask Deirdre if she wanted to hang out in the summer. But I really wanted to hang out with Marcus. Even though he’d given me his e-mail address, it hadn’t felt like much of an invitation. With him, I felt like I had to wait around for him to ask.

Finally, at the end of our last drama class, I turned to Deirdre and said, “Hey, maybe we can hang out sometime. ”

She smiled. “Sure. ”

So easy.

I glanced toward Marcus’s steady frontward gaze.

The bell rang and Deirdre called “See ya, ” on her way out. I waited for Marcus to get up to leave, too, but he didn’t right away.

“You could. . . meet me at the Arts Club sometime. ” He paused and then finally turned to me. “If you want to hang out, I mean. ”

I grinned with what was probably way too much enthusiasm. “I would, ” I said. “I really would like that. ”

I felt cheery the whole rest of the day, and even into the weekend. Marcus clicked OFF on the TV remote and dropped it on our coffee table when we heard voices from outside my house on Saturday afternoon. I’d brought him back here early, trying to get him more comfortable before the photo shoot, and I think it had worked. I told Marcus to grab our shoes while I organized my camera equipment.

But Claire was quick with the door, and suddenly there stood Marcus, a pair of shoes in each hand, staring a foot away from not only Claire, but also Jasmine, Laz, and Josh Garrison.

Claire, Jasmine, and Laz held their grad gowns draped over their arms.

“Hey, Loey, ” Claire said, nonchalantly leading the way. She pointed toward her room and asked Jasmine to go plug in her flat iron.

“Hi, Loann, ” Jasmine said in a nicer-than-usual tone on her way up the stairs.

“H-hi, ” I forced out. Why were they all here? No one had said anything about this.

“Oh! Hi, Marcus. ” Claire looked at me when she said it. I was quite sure she was waiting for me to tell her why he was here. But I was waiting for an explanation too. “You know Josh and Laz, right? ” she asked, turning to Marcus.

Marcus took a step back and nodded. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Josh and Laz’s jock friends had been hassling Marcus at school for several months, now he had to face them at my house, too? Why hadn’t I known they would all be here?