"Halloween's over," I say; staring pointedly at the black leather whip she slaps against the floor.

"Duh." She makes a face and continues to punish the carpet.

"So I like the costume, big deal. I'm thinking about dressing up every day."

I lean toward the mirror, insert my tiny diamond-chip studs, and scrape my hair into a ponytail.

"I can't believe you're still dressing like that," she says, her nose crinkling in disgust. "I thought you bagged yourself a boyfriend?" She drops the whip and grabs my iPod, her fingers sliding around the wheel as she scrolls through my playlist.

I turn, wondering what exactly she saw.

"Hel-lo?.At the party? By the pool? Or was that just a hookup?" I stare at her, my face flushing crimson. "What do you know about hookups? You're only twelve! And why the heck are you spying on me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Please, like I'd waste my time spying on you when there's way better stuff I can see. For your information, I just so happened to go outside at the exact same moment you shoved your tongue down that Damen guy's throat. And trust me, I wish I hadn't seen it."

I shake my head and ransack my drawer, transferring my annoyance at Riley onto my sweatshirts. "Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but he's hardly my boyfriend. I haven't talked to him since," I say, hating the way my stomach just curled in on itself when I said that. Then I grab a clean gray sweatshirt and yank it over my head, completely destroying the ponytail I just made.

"I can spy on him if you want. Or haunt him." She smiles.

I look at her and sigh. Part of me wanting to take her up on it, the other part knowing it's time to move on, cut my losses, and forget it ever happened. "Just stay out of it, okay?" I finally say. "I'd like just one normal high school experience, if you don't mind."

"Up to you." She shrugs, tossing me the iPod. "But just so you know, Brandon's back on the market."

I grab a stack of books and stuff them into my backpack, amazed at how that bit of news doesn't make me feel any better.

"Yup, Rachel dumped him on Halloween when she caught him making out with a Playboy bunny. Only it wasn't really a Playboy bunny, it was Heather Watson dressed as one."

"Seriously?" I gape. "Heather Watson? You're joking." I try to picture it in my mind, but it doesn't add up.

"Scouts honor. You should see her, she lost twenty pounds, ditched the headgear, got her hair straightened, and she looks like a totally different person. Unfortunately, she also acts like a totally different person. She's kind of a, well, you know, a B with an itch," she whispers, going back to whipping the floor, as I let that bizarre piece of news sink in.

"You know, you really shouldn't be spying on people," I say, more concerned with her spying on me than any of my old friends. "It's kind of rude, don't you think?" I heave my bag onto my shoulder and head for the door.

Riley laughs. "Don't be ridiculous. It's good to keep up with people from the old neighborhood."

"Are you coming?" I ask, turning impatiently.

"Yup, and I call shotgun!" she says, slipping right past me and hopping onto the banister, her black Zorro cape floating on air as she slides all the way down.

By the time I get to Miles's, he's waiting outside, thumbs tapping his Sidekick. "Just-one-second okay, done!" He slips onto the passenger seat and peers closely at me. "Now-tell me everything! Start to finish. I want all the dirty details, leave nothing out!"

"What're you talking about?" I back out of his driveway and onto the street, shooting a warning glance at Riley who's perched on his knee, blowing on his face and laughing when he tries to adjust the air vent.

Miles looks at me and shakes his head. "Hel-lo? Damen? I heard you guys were macking in the moonlight, making out by the pool, hooking up under the moon's silvery-"

"Where are you going with this?" I ask, even though I already know, but hoping there's some way to stop him.

"Listen, word's out so don't even try to deny it. And I would've called you yesterday but my dad confiscated my phone and dragged me to the batting cages, so he could watch me swing like a girl." He laughs. "You should've seen me, I totally camped it up and he was horror-fied! That'll teach him. But anyway, back to you. Come on, the divulging starts now; Tell me everything," he says, turning toward me and nodding impatiently. "Was it as awesome as we all dreamed it would be?"

I shrug, glancing at Riley and warning her with my eyes to either cease and desist or disappear. "Sorry to disappoint you," I finally say. "But there's nothing to tell"

"That's not what I heard. Haven said-"

I press my lips and shake my head. Just because I already know what Haven said doesn't mean I want to hear it spoken out loud. So I cut him off when I say, "Okay fine, we kissed. But just once." I can feel him looking at me, brows raised, lips smirked in suspicion. "Maybe twice. I don't know, it's not like I counted," I mumble, lying like a red-faced, sweaty-palmed, shifty-eyed amateur, and hoping he doesn't notice. Because the truth is I've replayed that kiss so many times it's tattooed on my brain.

"And?" he says, impatient for more.

"And-nothing," I say, relieved when I glance at him and see Riley's gone..

"He didn't call? Or text? Or e-mail? Or drop by?" Miles gasps, visibly upset, wondering what it means not only for me, but the future of our group.

I shake my head and stare straight ahead, angry with myself for not dealing with it better, hating the way my throat's gone all tight as my eyes start to sting.

"But what did he say? When he left the party, I mean? What were his very last words?" Miles asks, determined to find some ray of hope in this bleak and bitter landscape.

I turn at the light, remembering our strange and sudden good-bye at the door. Then I face Miles, swallow hard, and say, "He said, 'souvenir? "

And the moment it's out, I know it's a really bad sign. Nobody takes a souvenir from a place they plan to frequent. Miles looks at me, his eyes expressing the words his lips have refused.

"Tell me about it," I say, shaking my head as I pull into the lot.

Even though I'm fully committed to not thinking about Damen, I can't help but feel disappointed when I get to English and see he's not there. Which, of course, makes me think about him even that much more, until I'm teetering on the edge of obsession.

I mean, just because our kiss seemed like something more than just a random hookup doesn't mean he felt the same way. And just because it felt solid and true and transcendent to me doesn't mean he was in on it too. Because no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the image of him and Drina standing together, a perfect Count Fersen with an idyllic Marie. While I stood on the sidelines all shiny and pouffy like the world's biggest wannabe.

I'm just about to click on my iPod when Stacia and Damen burst through the door. Laughing and smiling, shoulders nearly touching, two Single white rosebuds clutched in her hand.

And when he leaves her at her desk and heads toward me, I fumble with some papers and pretend I didn't see.

"Hey," he says, sliding onto his seat. Acting like everything's perfectly normal. Like he didn't pull'a grope-and-run less than forty-eight hours before.

I plate my cheek on my palm and force my face into a yawn, hoping to come off as bored, tired, worn out from activities he couldn't begin to imagine, doodling on a piece of notebook paper with fingers so shaky my pen slips right out of my hand.

I bend down to retrieve it, and when I come back up I find a single red tulip on top of my desk.

"What happened? You run out of white rosebuds?" I ask, flipping through books and papers, as though I've something important to do.

"I would never give you a rosebud," he says, his eyes searching for mine.