Aubrie joined in the head shaking. We probably looked like a row of cheerleading bobble head dolls. "It's so ironic. If you hadn't made Adrian break up with Rick, then Tanner wouldn't have said those things about Adrian—and you and Tanner would still be together. This is just like one of those Greek tragedies."

"I didn't make Adrian break up with Rick," I said. "So it isn't ironic, it's just Rick's fault." I'd never made the connection Aubrie had, and it immediately bothered me. I was already in a lousy mood, and this only made things worse.

Samantha folded her arms. "I'm with Chelsea on this one. She's better off without Tanner. Guys will break your hearts if you let them. That's just what they do."

Which I supposed meant she was still upset with Logan.

Aubrie patted me on the shoulder. "At least this way you won't have to worry about getting Rick as a brother-in-law. I mean, wouldn't that have been ironic—just as you get rid of Rick in your sister's life, you pick him up in your relationship with Tanner?"

Yeah, ironic, apparently no matter what I did my life was doomed.

Aubrie gave a shudder and her eyes grew distant as though contemplating a new truth. "It's almost like you and Rick are destined to be together somehow."

"Never say those words to me again," I said.

"Don't worry about it," Rachel said with a shrug. "Once you win the auditions you'll have your pick of hot Hollywood guys. Rick and Tanner will be a distant memory."

But I couldn't imagine it. I couldn't imagine Tanner's face fading into the recesses of my mind. I would probably never see him again, and just the thought of that hurt.

Logan found me as I walked to my first class. He strode up next to me as I navigated my way through the hallways and with barely a "Hi Chelsea" for a greeting, said, "So, do you know why Samantha is mad at me?"

"Yeah. But it's not a big deal. She just followed Rachel's dating advice and it backfired on her."

He cast me a confused glance. "What?"

I realized too late that I shouldn't have mentioned Rachel or her techniques. She would not appreciate it if the guys at PHS got wind of her methods. It was better to let them all think that yes, she really was fascinated by everything they had to say.

"Look, you just need to ask Samantha some questions about herself," I told Logan. "That's all she wants."

"What?"

I held my hand out to him as though this would help with the explanation. "She's mad at you because even though she's been asking you nonstop questions about yourself, she still wants to talk about herself once in a while."

Now his eyebrows drew together in consternation. "What?"

"Logan, why do you keep saying that?"

"Because women make no sense." He put one hand on his chest. "She's mad at me because she wants to talk about herself? Does she need my permission to do that? Why has she been asking all those questions about me if she wanted to talk about herself?"

"Because she wants you to adore her."

Logan raked his hand across his hair. "My head is going to explode. It can only take so much illogic."

"But Samantha also wants you to care about her opinion, which is why all you need to do ask her what she thinks about a few issues. Casually. Without her knowing that you're doing it on purpose or that you talked to me about it."

Logan stared at me for a moment and then looked off into space, shaking his head. "It's amazing we've survived as a species. Truly amazing."

"Oh, like guys make sense."

"Guys make perfect sense," Logan said. "But you need a degree in psychology to understand women."

No, you didn't. You just needed to talk to their friends every once in a while—thus ensuring the survival of the species. I might have pointed this out but we had to go our separate ways in the hallway so I just yelled out, "Good luck."

In history class Samantha was in a better mood. I supposed this meant that Logan had accomplished his mission. But I didn't ask because my mood had gotten worse as the day went on. At my voice lessons Mr. Metzerol told me I breathed too much. How can a person breathe too much?

When I walked by Jock's Landing, Mike and a bunch of the other football players were all laughing about something. As I got near they suddenly stopped and watched me in silence.

So subtle. Like I couldn't tell they were talking about me. I would have rather heard what they said because now I just conjured up all sorts of ugly things.

Sure there were still people who were nice to me, and my friends tried to cheer me up and tell me it would all blow over, but it only takes a couple of mean people to make you feel awful.

In history class Molly and Polly told me to look on the bright side. There were only 216 more days of school left until we graduated. They'd kept a running total since they moved in. They used to have calculations for the hours, minutes, and seconds too, but had lost track of those since their makeovers. I considered this a good sign. To their credit, each girl had kept up with her hair, makeup, and wardrobe improvements. Or as Molly put it, "Now it takes me forever to get ready for school."

Polly told me that she was picking up her contacts after school, and that she'd started jogging in the evening. "Maybe if I slim down, Joe will talk to me."

"Or maybe he'd talk to you if you talked to him first," I said. But no, she didn't want to try that.

After school, as I took books out of my locker, Rick strolled up. He wore mirrored sunglasses and a gangster-looking trench coat.

"Hey Chelsea, I just came by to tell you sorry for dinner last night."

I glanced at him suspiciously. "What are you sorry for?"

He gazed away from me, like he was too cool to make eye contact. "Whatever you want. Tanner told me to apologize and I said I would. So now I have."

He turned as though leaving, but I didn't want him to go. Just hearing Tanner's name made me want to pull more information out of Rick. "Hey, apologies don't count if you don't say what you're sorry for."

He tilted his head and grunted at me. It was then that I noticed a red mark running along Rick's cheek and disappearing under his glasses. "Is something wrong with your eye?" I asked.

"No." He leaned away from me, obviously hiding something.

"Yes, there is." I reached up and snatched the glasses off his face. A red welt surrounded by a bruise went from the corner of his eye to his cheek bone.

I let out a gasp. "Did Tanner hit you?"

Rick grabbed the sunglasses out of my hand and put them back on his face. "No, Tanner didn't hit me. It was the ceiling fan."

"The ceiling fan hit you?"

"Yes."

"You were bothering the ceiling fan's girlfriend too?"

Rick scowled to let me know I wasn't funny. "I was standing on top of the coffee table to get my car keys off the entertainment center and the ceiling fan hit me."

Which still didn't make sense. I leaned against my locker and surveyed him. "Your car keys were on top of the entertainment center?"

"Yeah, Tanner threw them up there after I chucked them at him."

"Why did you chuck your car keys at Tanner?"

Even behind his sunglasses I could see Rick roll his eyes. "Use your imagination, Chels. We were fighting. Do you need to ask what we fought about or are you pretty clear on that?"