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anything about Friday. Mom had assured me that morning over Apple Jacks that everyone would have forgotten the whole thing by today.
    â€œOh, hey. I was at Arlene’s house. Remember? For the Academy Awards,” I said. There had been a message from Kirstie on my pillow when I got home late from Arlene’s. I was surprised when I saw that she had called. I figured she’d have forgotten about me over the weekend. I felt like a little social butterfly, even, getting messages from one person while I was out with another. Sad, right?
    â€œI remember. But you were there all night? Saturday and Sunday?” She squeezed her notebook to her chest, and the way her eyes pierced me made me nervous—like I was being questioned by the principal.
    â€œNo,” I said, wondering why she was questioning me like I’d done something wrong. “I just got home late. The awards ended at, like, eleven thirty.”
    â€œOh,” she said. “That’s cool. Hey!” she said, brightening. “Can we meet before lunch? Friday I roamed the halls because I was afraid to go in and sit alone.”
    â€œYou did? Of course I’ll meet you. Arlene and I usually meet in courtyard just outside the caf. Meet us there and we’ll all go in together.”
    As my morning classes went on, I had to think that maybe Mom had been right. Maybe everyone did forget about the roses. Still, I was on alert in case anyone tried any other pranks on me like Kirstie said she’d overheard. I couldn’t help but think she was wrong about that. I don’t think she was lying or anything, but she was brand-new here—how would she know who anyone was talking about? By lunch, I started to relax.
    I introduced Kirstie to Arlene, and we went inside the caf and got in line. While Arlene was getting her food, Kirstie nudged me and said, “She looks familiar.” I didn’t know what that meant or what to tell her, so I just shrugged my shoulders.
    As I paid for the lasagna and “green” beans, Lunchlady Campbell smiled and said, “Oh, Sara! I saw your beautiful white roses in the office on Friday. You must have done something special to get such gorgeous flowers.”
    At the day’s first mention of the roses, I felt my shoulders sink. I looked straight through her thick glasses, circa before I was born, and said, “Yeah. I got my period.”
    She gawked for a moment, gave a shifty smile, and handed me my change.
    I felt Kirstie’s hand rubbing my back, and felt a tiny bit of comfort in that gesture. Arlene was in the lunchroom already, holding her tray and laughing with some softball girls. When Kirstie and I came up to her, she told the girls, “Oh. I have to go sit with them.” Not for the first time, I felt like Arlene was making a huge sacrifice by sitting with me at lunch.
    â€œYou don’t have to,” Kirstie said, surprising me. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to sit with me alone, or if she didn’t want Arlene there.
    Arlene seemed to feel there was something to her statement too, because she said, “No. I want to.”
    There’s no way to put a finger on tension. I just knew it was there, floating in the air between Kirstie and Arlene, and I wasn’t sure why.
    â€œSo where are you from, anyway?” Arlene asked almost as soon as we sat down. Well, she didn’t ask so much as snap. I furrowed my brow at her, because I didn’t want to be rude.
    But Kirstie didn’t seem bothered. “Oh, I’m not from anywhere, it seems. My mom and I have lived all over the place.” Kirstie told us that she and her mom had been moving fromcity to city for as long as she could remember. Her mom works for a big hotel chain, and she constantly has to move to different cities to help open up new branches. Her dad, she said, bailed on them both when she was in second grade and she basically hasn’t heard from him since. “Except for