This was so ridiculous. She loved Max, and she knew he loved her. Yeah, they had agreed-well, Max had insisted, and Liz had agreed-that they would be just friends.

But did that mean they had to be so phony? Why couldn't he trust her with the truth-whatever it was? Why couldn't she just tell him to cut the bull and tell her what was going on?

Maybe it's because we're still being careful with each other, Liz thought as they made their way to the main building. We've managed to create this friend facade over the mess of our relationship. But it's not that strong. Maybe we both know it would be very easy to destroy it.

Liz led the way inside and over to the staircase. She and Max climbed in silence. She could hear his breathing pick up as they got near the top. Another fact to add to the pile. Max was in good shape. A few stairs shouldn't get him breathing hard.

Liz shortened her stride as they walked down the hall to give Max a chance to catch his breath. "I read over the experiment we're doing today. It sounds pretty interesting," she said as they entered the classroom and took their places in their usual lab station.

Max didn't answer.

Liz Ortecho, Queen of Idle Chitchat, she thought.

"We have another long one today," Ms. Hardy announced. "You can go ahead and get started. I'll work my way to all of you, but flag me down if you have questions."

"I'll set up the Bunsen burner," Max said.

"I'll weigh the samples," Liz volunteered.

At least this was something they didn't have to fake. They both took their lab work seriously. And they were a good team.

Liz pulled the scale out of the cupboard-pretty grimy. She stepped up to the sink, turned on the water, dampened a long piece of brown paper towel, and scrubbed the scale clean. Don't these amateur scientists know that a dirty scale can corrupt all your data? she thought.

"Max," Ms. Hardy called from a lab station near the front of the room, "that flame is much too high."

Liz glanced over. Ms. Hardy was right. The Bunsen burner's flame was inches above where it needed to be. And the tip of Max's finger was right in the middle of the fire!

The odor of cooking meat hit her nose, and her throat clenched in a dry gag. What was he doing? Couldn't he feel that he was burning himself? Liz shot out her hand and twisted off the gas. The flame disappeared.

"Max, are you okay?" Liz demanded. "Let me see your finger." She reached for his hand.

"It's fine," Max snapped. He jerked his hand away.

"It can't be fine," she shot back. "You were holding it in the fire. And your skin… Max, your skin was bubbling."

"I've got to go change for practice," Isabel said, but she didn't pull away from Alex. What he was doing just felt too good. Except that the way he was leaning into her was jamming her lower back against one of the bleacher's metal steps.

"I could help you," Alex mumbled against her ear, his warm breath sending spikes of pleasure through her body. He reached between them and started unbuttoning her blouse.

Isabel grabbed his hand. "Thanks, but I think I can handle it." Their position back alongside the bleachers would prevent most people from seeing them. But still.

Alex slowly rebuttoned the buttons. Then he smoothed down her collar and brushed a lock of her hair back in place. Sometimes he could be so tender. It made Isabel feel like she was turning all liquid inside.

"Is-a-bel!" Stacey Scheinin's high, baby-doll voice echoed through the gym. "Get a move on. You can't afford to miss one minute of practice. We're going to watch a video of our last halftime show before we start. You'll see what I mean."

"Want me to kill her for you?" Alex asked.

"Maybe for my birthday," Isabel answered. She gave him a quick gotta-go kiss and jumped away before he could get his hands on her again.

"Remember tonight's the night you're having dinner at my house," Alex said.

"Like I'd forget," Isabel answered. How could she? She'd been trying to think of a good excuse to get out of it all week. She'd met his mom once for about two seconds, and she seemed nice enough. But his dad sounded obnoxious. And then there were two of his brothers. Alex hardly ever talked about them, so she didn't really know what to expect.

"I'll see you in a few hours." She turned around and headed to the locker room. She was careful not to hurry. Stacey was holding the door for her, giving her a little frown that was meant to be intimidating. Isabel flashed a quick smile to show that it wasn't.

"Everyone, Isabel needs our help," Stacey called as she followed Isabel down the row of lockers. "She has a new boy who is in serious need of a makeover. I know you've all seen him. Any suggestions? I was thinking maybe an 'I heart Isabel' tattoo."

Isabel thought about saying she'd just been doing a little charity work, giving Alex a thrill. It's not like he could hear her or anything. He'd never know.

But she'd feel like scum. It wasn't worth it.

"Yeah, a tattoo's a great idea. Isabel could get a matching one," someone called from the next row.

One of Stacey's court. They all copied that affected little voice of hers. Pathetic sheep.

"He doesn't look like he has a lot of money, going by his clothes, anyway," another Staceyette commented. "I say he should go with something cheap. Like a nice paper bag over the head."

Yeah, and if Stacey was going out with him, you'd be saying how gorgeous he was, Isabel thought. She sat down on the wooden bench in front of her locker and twisted in the combination. It wouldn't open. She tried it again. Still wouldn't open. Then she realized that her locker was the next one over.

"What else?" Stacey called, bouncing on her toes. "One tattoo and one paper bag's not going to do it. Come on, our teammate needs our help."

Tish Okabe sat down next to Isabel. "I think Alex is a cutie," she said loudly.

"You think everyone is a cutie," at least three girls yelled back.

Isabel snapped open her lock, pulled it off, and swung open the metal door. It was nice of Tish to defend Alex. But Isabel knew she should be doing it herself. She just didn't know what to say. Stacey would pounce on anything that came out of her mouth and twist it around. Maybe it was better just to ignore her.

Yeah, Isabel thought. You keep telling yourself that. Or you could just grow a backbone, as Alex would say.

"I'm not surprised you can't figure out what I see in Alex, Stacey," Isabel said coolly. "It's like how some people would rather eat a burger than filet mignon. Their palates just aren't sophisticated enough to appreciate the difference."

"Aw, isn't that sweet? She's standing by her man," Stacey cooed.

Isabel felt like knocking Stacey on her butt.

"You know who I think is filet mignon?" Corrine Williams asked Isabel. "Your brother. I'm having a party on Friday. Tell Max to come. And bring that other guy you're always hanging around with-Michael Guerin."

"Yeah," Stacey jumped in. "If you get both of them there, then I guess you can bring Alex, too." She licked her finger and made a little one-point-for-me mark in the air.

Chalk one up while you can, Princess of Petty. Because you don't have a snowball's chance at Max or Michael, Isabel thought. But she couldn't help feeling a sting of shame that Alex didn't make the cool-people cut.

"I don't have a big desire to be a squid. Except maybe a squid like Squidly Diddly," Alex told his brother as they set the table. "Or was he an octopus? No. Had to be a squid. Hence the Squidly."

Jesse just stared at him, in a have-you-lost-your-mind kind of way.