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the side, motioning me to join him.
    “I’m glad I saw you. I need to ask you a question.” Mr. Keegan hesitated, his deep-brown eyes, so like Wes’s, troubled. “I’m a little worried about how my son is fitting in here at Crooked Hollow. Have you met Wes?”
    I tried to swallow the knot tightening my throat, to no avail. I coughed, eyes watering. Great, I was going to die in the third pew of my church in front of Wes’s father. I coughed again and finally managed a nod. “Once or twice.” Little did he know I could give him a mental transcript of every word Wes and I had spoken together.
    “Good.” Mr. Keegan rocked back on his heels. “You grew up in Crooked Hollow. Maybe you could show him around.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, his breath so minty fresh I wondered if he’d downed an entire pack of Altoids. “Help him find some
good
friends.” His emphasis on the word
good
made me wonder if he’d seen Wes with Poodle Girl as well. If so, no wonder he looked so tired. She wasn’t exactly the type of girl to bring home to the parents.
    I hesitated, not sure exactly what I was agreeing to. “You want me to be your son’s tour guide?”
    “Unofficially. Just make friends with him.” He smiled. “You seem like a nice girl. Good influence.”
    My heart sank, but I forced a smile in return and agreed to give it a try. After all, isn’t that what good ol’ gummi bears do?

Chapter Five
    I can’t believe you sold me out in Mr. Black’s class.” Claire slammed my locker shut, barely missing my hand as I yanked it out of the way.
    I met her venomous stare full-on. Usually I hated conflict—especially on a Monday morning—but Claire had pushed one button too many. “If anyone should be upset, it’s me. You never showed up at the library Friday and ignored my six hundred texts all weekend.”
    Claire flipped her hair and averted her gaze as a group of students shuffled past us. “I had things going on.”
    “Well, I did, too.” I spun the combination and tugged my locker back open, my indignation heating into a boil. “Like getting a decent grade on a joint project that I had to do alone.”
    “I got an incomplete! That’s worse than an F.”
    Seriously? I was so sick of this. All Claire could think of was herself. Typical. I shook my head as I switched out my books. “I believe that’s your own fault.”
    “You’ve always covered for me before. What gives?” Claire hitched her Coach bag higher on her shoulder, and I wished I had the guts to grab it from her and throw it into my locker. Her expression would be priceless. But that wouldn’t be very PK of me.
    Though today it was hard to care.
    “I’m just tired of being the fallback plan, okay?” I grabbed my English text and slammed my locker closed, even harder than she had. “You took advantage of me. If it hadn’t been for Marta, I’d have been sunk. You know my grades are important to me.”
    Claire frowned. “Who the heck is Marta?”
    “A foreign-exchange student from Germany who saved my behind helping me think of the edible cell idea for our project. Since you ditched me.” I crossed my arms, hugging my textbook against my flushed chest.
    “Weird.”
    “Not weird—nice. Considerate. Helpful. All of those things that you aren’t exactly being anymore.”
    “What are you trying to say?” Claire planted one hand on her jean-clad hips, disbelief shading her overly made-up eyes.
    “I’m saying that’s it. Either you’re going to be my friend and act like a friend, or I’m done.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it. Yesterday’s exchange with Poodle Girl and my own emotional and mental roller coaster over Wes had put me over the edge. I was tired of being perpetually sweet. There was a fine line between being good and being a doormat. And I think I crossed that line with Claire years ago.
    Claire’s eyebrow twitched. “You don’t want me for an enemy, Addison Blakely.”
    She was right. But I was