Mom let out a sigh, but didn't contradict me. Her voice turned soft, and I knew she didn't know who to believe. "Adrian is going through a hard time right now. We need to be understanding, supportive . . ." Her voice faded off. She looked at my bedspread, then back at me. "Just promise me you won't do anything to hurt your sister, okay?"

"I won't," I said.

One day Adrian would realize what I'd done for her. One day she'd thank me.

Chapter 15

The next day Mom left for her geriatrics conference in Arizona. She lined up Adrian and me in the kitchen in the morning and gave us all sorts of cheery instructions about what was in the freezer for us to eat, taking out the trash, house rules—that sort of thing. She would be at the conference Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday then return home Saturday, but wouldn't reach Pullman until the evening, long after my audition for High School Idol was over.

I couldn't blame her for missing it. She'd told me about the conference before I decided to audition. Besides, I knew she didn't want to go. She kept glancing at Adrian and me saying, "You two will do your best to get along, right? No fights?"

"Right," I'd always answer.

Adrian only shrugged.

She gave us more instructions, told me she only wanted me driving the car when I had to, and told Adrian not to drive it at all. Adrian only had her learner's permit. Then Mom hugged us good-bye. We walked to school without talking, mostly because Adrian had her headphones firmly connected to her ears and wouldn't look at me.

I spent the time thinking about Tanner. Without even trying I could conjure up his face in my mind—from his piercing blue eyes to the straight line of his jaw. He'd made Rick apologize to me. Something I'd never thought was possible.

But he was Rick's—my archenemy and sister's ex-boyfriend's—brother. Plus, I was trying to hide him from Adrian. The boy might as well have had "Danger! Do Not Touch!" stamped across his forehead.

I knew I couldn't see him again. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I'd have to give him up for Adrian's sake. All the way to school this thought clung to me like to cold rain from a downpour. When he called me, I would have to tell him that I couldn't see him again. I tried to think of a subtle and painless way to do this. I couldn't think of anything—anything that wouldn't be painful to me, anyway.

Then I worried whether I'd have the resolve to break it off with him when I really didn't want to. Was there a way I could see him and keep it from Adrian?

All my worrying was for nothing, though, because the entire day went by without a word from Tanner.

Thursday morning at school our topic of conversation with my friends was, "Do guys really mean it when they say they'll call you later?"

"It's only been a little while," Aubrie pointed out. "He probably just doesn't want to look too eager. He'll call."

But Aubrie is illogically optimistic, so you can't weigh her opinion too heavily.

"I think he'll call you," Samantha put in. "After all, he took you to meet his parents. Guys don't do that unless they really like a girl."

Rachel, the dating goddess, bit her lip and didn't say anything.

"Well?" I asked her.

"You seemed needy when you called him about Adrian. Nothing scares off guys faster. A little helplessness, they like. It makes them feel macho to be bigger and stronger, but they flee from girls who are needy, depressed, or high maintenance. In fashion world terms, you gave yourself a dry-clean-only label for a wash-and-wear guy." Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "Look at it this way though: you messed up on Tanner, but think of how well prepared you'll be for the next guy."

I knew she was right. But I didn't want the next guy. I wanted Tanner with his easy smile and Clark Kent features. Throughout the day I kept checking my phone for text messages that never appeared.

It was so depressing that not even a compliment from Mr. Metzerol during my voice lessons—and I swear this was the first one he'd ever given me—could bring me out of it.

"Good tone!" he said, nodding vigorously during my song. "You're finally holding onto those notes. You can feel it in your diaphragm, can't you?"

I could feel it in my throat, where I felt all of my notes, but I nodded anyway. I'd never admitted to him that when I sang, my notes didn't wander around my body like they apparently did in his.

Still there was no doubt that my diaphragm was stronger. In fact I'd done so many exercises it was probably the strongest muscle in my body. I bet my diaphragm could beat up other people's diaphragms. It could maybe even rip open car doors and leap over buildings.

In history class, Mrs. Addington let the class go to the library to work on our reports. We were done with ours, so Molly and Polly spent the time trying to cheer me up.

"Only 214 more days until high school is over," Polly told me brightly.

"Yeah, but then I have to go to college."

"College will be better," Molly said. "Because you're not stuck seeing the same small group of people every day."

"No, then I'll just have to worry about running into Tanner on campus." I put my arm on the table and rested my chin in my hand. "Plus the Hilltop has great food and now I'll never be able to go there again."

"Oh, you can go there again," Samantha said, "but only with really gorgeous guys."

Molly tilted her head in mock sympathy. "So that means you'll only be able to eat there, what, every other weekend?"

Why does everyone think my life is way better than it really is?

"It's not like there are gorgeous guys hovering around me," I said.

Molly grunted. "You've been through two since the start of the school year and it's only the beginning of November."

I didn't think getting dumped twice in quick succession was a good thing, but this was useless to point out. I turned to Polly, who was still in the new stages of contact wearing and had looked teary-eyed all period. "Speaking of love, how have things been going between you and Joe?"

Polly fidgeted with the edge of her paper. She blinked but I wasn't sure if it was the emotions or the contacts. "I still haven't worked up my courage to say hi yet."

"It's one word," I said. "Two letters. You don't need a lot of courage to say hi."

More fidgeting from Polly. "Easy for you to say."

"And easy for you to say too. If it doesn't look like it's going well you can turn your greeting into a cough. See, like this," I straightened up in my chair and put on my best actress face. "Hi-aaa—aaa—ack."

Samantha shook her head sadly in my direction. "Is it any wonder Chelsea is so popular?"

Molly nodded patronizingly, "When I grow up I hope I'm as cool as you."

"Why wait to grow up," I said, "when you can work on being cool right now?"

Molly shook her head and held up one hand as though warding me off. "Oh no. No more makeover stuff. I don't need any more hair ripped out of my body."

"This won't hurt," I said. "We'll work on your posture."

Molly leaned away from me. "And that doesn't hurt? You've smacked me in the back all week to work on my posture."

"We'll do something different this time. We'll walk with books on our heads."

With a little more encouragement—meaning that I had to promise I'd stop walking up behind them, yelling, 'straighten up!' and thumping them between the shoulder blades, they agreed to go behind the history section with me.