Which was pretty much the kiss of death. She'd killed her chances and didn't even know it.

After our last study group ended, Travis left, then came back five minutes later. He'd forgotten his notes. Adrian had gone to her room and I was in the middle of cleaning up soda cans and half-empty bowls of popcorn. He picked up his notes then helped me take dishes into the kitchen.

We'd left a few things out in the living room, but I felt bad making him clean. "I can get the rest," I said.

"No, I'll get it," he said, then paused a foot away from me. "Is Adrian around?"

I sent him an apologetic smile. "She's in her room. You're safe."

He laughed, the kind of laughter which is actually gratitude that someone understands. "She's a nice girl and everything, but . . ."

"I know. She comes on a little too strong."

He stepped closer to me and spoke softly, to make sure our voices didn't carry. "I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I don't know what to say to her. Isn't there someone her own age she's interested in?"

"Yes," I said even though it was a lie. I didn't want to make my sister sound like a stalker. "She likes a couple of guys in her class, it's just that when you're around she can't help but flirt with you. Consider it a compliment. You're irresistible."

He laughed again, and I noticed how his eyes lit up when he smiled. His sandy blond hair was mussed up in a way that made you want to run your hands through it. "Yeah," he said without an ounce of belief in his tone. "I wish I had that effect on women."

"You do. In fact, I bet you have entire eighth-grade blogs dedicated to the twinkles in your eyes."

He took another step closer to me. I should have turned away from him then, but I didn't. I stayed there, leaning against my kitchen counter smiling at him. This is how it's done, I wanted to tell Adrian. See how easy it is? I still know more about flirting with guys than you do.

He looked down at me mischievously. "If only women my own age felt that way about me."

"Who says they don't?"

He bent down slowly. I could have moved away, but instead I closed my eyes and let him kiss me.

It only lasted a minute. Just long enough for the thrill of being right to wear off. With his lips still on mine, I thought, What am I going to do now? How am I going to explain this to Adrian? But I knew I wouldn't explain. I'd hide it and never let her know what I'd done.

And then I heard Adrian gasp. I pushed away from Travis and saw her standing in the kitchen entryway. Her mouth hung open in shock and her eyes looked wide and frightened. Frightened, not hurt. I didn't understand that back then, but I think I do now.

Fear is what you feel when the person who's always protected you slices through your heart. The world is no longer a safe place; it's one where anyone can turn on you.

Adrian spun around and dashed back to her room, leaving a wake of silence in the kitchen. Travis ran his hand through his hair. " I 'm sorry. I guess I'd better go."

He departed almost as quickly as Adrian had, and then I was left standing there with a horrible, empty feeling pounding in my chest.

I tried to talk to Adrian. I apologized to her over and over. I told her I'd never see Travis again. It didn't matter. I didn't have any good reasons for what I'd done, and saying, "It just happened," was perhaps worse in the end.

"It just happened" became Adrian's new excuse for everything. Her tongue piercing just happened. Her grades dropping just happened. Her black wardrobe just happened.

Every time she said it, she told me everything was my fault. And from that day forward she reconstructed herself into someone who was the exact opposite of me.

Now looking at Adrian painting her nails with sullen resolve, it hurt all over again. I let out a sigh. "How long are you going to bring up Travis for?"

She turned from her toenails to her fingernails. While I watched she gave herself long, black claws. "Just until I get even."

I didn't say anything else to her. There wasn't a point. Some people will never forgive you. It's too much fun hating you instead.

Chapter 11

On Monday Samantha, Molly, Polly, and I spent all of history class working on our report. It was nearly done. This was not my fault. I'm not one of those people who plan to leave things to the last minute, it just happens naturally. The last minute works for me.

But Molly and Polly would have none of it. They wanted to get the project done right away so we wouldn't have to worry about it later. I tried to point out that it was just as easy not to worry about it now and then worry about it quickly later. In fact, it was probably more worry-effective because really, how much can you worry about something at the last minute?

Polly said, "Look, we know you're busy with your cheerleading and practicing for those auditions and all. We can take care of typing the report and doing the bibliography if you don't have time for it."

Which was touching considering they'd started out the project insisting that they weren't going to let me cheat off of them. Still, I didn't want to make them do most of the work, because I hadn't been nice to them so I could slack off. I'd been nice to them so that Mr. Metzerol would give me voice lessons.

Which sounded just as bad, but it wasn't. I mean, I liked Molly and Polly. That had to count for something.

So then I had to tell them, that no, I didn't want them doing my work for me, which meant I had to try and plow through it quickly so I didn't let everyone else down.

Although really, Samantha was having a hard time concentrating on her part: Space travel, the early years, because she was mad at Logan.

When she'd met Aubrie, Rachel, and me at our usual chat spot that morning, she crossed her arms and shook her head. "It happened again."

"What happened again?" Aubrie asked, already sympathetic.

"Logan drove me to school this morning, and I used Rachel's method and asked him questions about his interests." She held up one hand to emphasize her point. "He talked about himself all the way to school."

We stared at her waiting for more information, which didn't come. "Well, wasn't that the point?" Aubrie asked.

"I've been doing it for three days. It's been three days that I've said nothing about myself, and he hasn't even noticed. Or cared. I could be a computer program that repeats, 'What do you think about that, Logan?' and he'd be just as happy with me. Apparently my contribution to our conversations has always just been to take up dead space until he could talk about himself again."

Rachel shook her head. "I told you it gets boring if you do it non-stop. Remember, that's what kissing is for."

Samantha tossed her hair from her shoulder. "I don't want to kiss someone who doesn't care what I think about anything."

Aubrie looked at each one of us in turn, her expression growing stern. "See, I told you that whole-just-make-him-talk-about-himself thing was a bad idea, but no, you wouldn't listen."

"Actually," I said, "it's worked out great for me."

"Kissing," Rachel said as though making a point.

Samantha grit her teeth. "I was sure by this morning he'd get suspicious. I mean, if he wouldn't talk about himself, I'd think he was hiding something. I'd start questioning him about it. He doesn't even care that I could be keeping things from him." She flung her hand in my direction. "I could be living a secret double life like Chelsea."