“Elise,” I said the name out loud, trying to conjure up an image of the girl it belonged to. “What else do you know about her?”

Samantha hesitated. Her lips pursed together slightly. Whatever she knew about Elise, she didn’t like. “Nothing really.”

The fact that Samantha wouldn’t tell me probably meant it was something that wouldn’t have bothered most people. Elise didn’t have a fatal disease or a third leg. She just didn’t meet Samantha’s qualifications as a worthwhile person. She wasn’t homecoming court material.

I didn’t think about what I said next; it just came out of my mouth in a moment of spontaneous goodwill. “We should stop by the Benson’s house after school and welcome Elise to the neighborhood. I could make some cookies for her family.”

Samantha shrugged and glanced at her friends. “Sorry. I have cheerleading practice after school.”

“That’s okay. We can wait until cheerleading practice is over. After all, it will take me a while to bake cookies.”

“Ummm,” Samantha said, clearly searching for an excuse to skip out on being friendly.

I pressed her anyway. If both of us went it would look more like a neighborly thing and less like a Cassidy-is-desperate-for-a-new-friend sort of thing. “Come over to my house at four o’clock and we’ll walk over together.”

“Fine,” Samantha said, then didn’t say anything else. None of the cheerleaders did, either. They were waiting for me to leave.

“Okay. See you later.” I spun on my heel. Literally. I had forgotten I was wearing shoes with heels so high they prevented all natural movement, and when I turned, I lost my balance.

The tight skirt didn’t help matters. I took a lunging step to steady myself. Or rather, I tried to steady myself. The skirt didn’t allow for lunges, so I ended up taking a stumbling step that did nothing but quicken my decent to the floor. My books went flying in all directions. I heard a ripping sound that was either my skirt or the tendons in my leg. At that point it was all a blur.

To Samantha’s credit, she helped me up. She was laughing as she said, “Are you all right?” but at least she helped me.

“I’m fine,” I said. And I was. Unless you counted my pride, the slit in my skirt that was now considerably longer than it had been, or the stinging in my palms from where I’d hit the floor.

The other cheerleaders gathered my books for me. My biology book had slid over to Chad and Mike’s table. Chad picked it up and handed it to perky blonde cheerleader named Chelsea.

It was my book though, and Chad had picked it up. I could even say with confidence that he’d noticed me, since he was eyeing me over. Which, if I was being really technical, was Operation Chad’s first success.

Chapter 2

After school I made chocolate chip cookies for the Bensons. I had told Samantha to meet at my house at four o’clock, but at four fifteen she still hadn’t come. Apparently cheerleading practice had run long or Samantha had found some more important thing to do—like anything.

I didn’t really want to go over to the Benson’s by myself, but I wanted to meet Elise, and what else was I going to do with two dozen cookies? I waited until four thirty, then headed over.

My father always said that when you make a wish and send it out into the universe, the universe conspires with you to make it happen. I had never believed him. I’d wished for a horse from the time I was three, and so far the universe had done very little in the way of helping out in that regard. But as I walked to Elise’s house, I not only sent a wish out, I struck a bargain.

I wanted Elise to have a good sense of humor. And be smart. And be nice. And not be a drama queen. That wasn’t a big order, was it? But if that was asking too much then I would settle smart and nice. In return, I would be kind to any and all new students for the rest of my life.

After I rang the bell, a thirteen-ish boy with unruly black hair opened the door. He looked at me unconcerned. “Yeah?”

“Hi,” I said. “I’m one of your neighbors. Is Elise home?”

“Yeah.” He held the door open, and I walked into what used to be Anjie’s living room. It looked all wrong without the Lopez’s black couches and marble coffee table. The tan walls seemed scuffed and forlorn. Stacks of boxes and miscellaneous furniture cluttered the floor.

The boy eyed my plate of cookies. “Hey, are those for me?”

“For your family. You can have one if your mom says—”

At this he grabbed a cookie, tilted back his head and yelled, “Elise! There’s someone here to see you!”

It was so loud she must have heard it, but there was no reply.

The boy then grabbed another cookie off the plate. With his mouth full he told me, “My parents aren’t home right now, but they’d let me have two.” Then he ran upstairs. I stood alone and waited.

A giant German shepherd trotted into the room. He stopped when he saw me.

I’ve always liked dogs. At least little ones. Little dogs are better because if a Yorkshire terrier suddenly thinks he’s a wolf and you’re a deer, or if he mistakes you for a fleeing criminal, or if he just thinks you look tasty, he’s probably not going to do a lot of damage. German shepherds are different. And mutatedly large German shepherds are enough to make anybody’s plate of cookies tremble.

“Hello there, doggy,” I said. “I hope you’re a nice dog.”

He surveyed me intently.

At this point certain questions ran through my mind: Where is everyone in this family? and Why hasn’t Elise shown up?

I took a step toward the door. “Nice doggy. Why don’t you find a cat to chase?”

His eyes never left my face. He didn’t growl, but he didn’t wag his tail, either. He moved toward me, sniffing.

I took another step backward. The dog took several more forward. Then his gaze fixed on the plate and he licked his lips. I held the cookies up over my head. I could tell he was calculating whether he could reach them if he jumped.

“Stay, doggy. Sit, doggy.”

He heaved himself up and put his paws on my shoulders. I had to take a step back to keep from being knocked over. I was nearly pressed up against the wall.

“Down, doggy! Down!”

He didn’t move. Instead he barked at the plate.

I was just about to let him have the plate and flee from the house, when I heard a teenage girl say, “Goliath! Down!”

The dog dropped to all fours and wagged his tail.

“Bad dog! No eating the guests!” She looked at me, nonchalantly. “Sorry about that.”

Elise was tall with long, dark hair and blue eyes. She looked athletic, tan, and pretty—not the sort of person Samantha would avoid. Elise wore shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops even though the weather had turned cool. Apparently she was in autumn denial.

A few of the cookies had nearly slid off the plate. I pushed them back into the center. “That’s all right. He didn’t get any.” I held the plate out to her. “I’m Cassidy Woodruff. I live down the street.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t take the cookies from me. “I’m thrilled to be here.” It was clear she wasn’t.

I shifted my weight, awkwardly. “Pullman is a nice place.”

She looked at me like I had to be joking. “Does Pullman even have a mall?”

“Not really.”

“A Seven- Eleven?”

“No.”

“A Burger King?”

“We have a McDonald’s.”

Elise plopped down on a couch. “Great. At least I won’t be without my Happy Meals.”

I suddenly understood why Samantha hadn’t been eager to meet Elise. Somehow, Samantha had known what Elise was like. Rude. Condescending. Not at all what I had ordered from the universe. I smiled in an attempt to be gracious.

The dog went and lay at Elise’s feet. I still stood there holding the cookies and wondered if I was supposed to sit down.

Elise said, “Where do you guys do your clothes shopping, anyway?”