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chances. I’ll talk to Star for the good of the family tree, to root out the discord and let us all blossom into our senior year.
    Star’s locker is in the east hall, so I get my things out of my locker and hurry down the hall, hoping I’m not too late. I want to get this over with.
    She’s at her locker, squatting in front of it, reaching for something. Star Simons really is the prettiest girl at Attila Ill. Her auburn hair looks as great now as it did in the morning, bouncy and shiny, shampoo-commercial hair.
    I walk up to her. “Hey, Star.”
    She looks up. If she’s surprised to see me, it doesn’t show.
    She gets up, carrying a stack of books. The smile on her face looks real enough and gives me the courage I need to go on and do what I’ve got to do. It may be my imagination, but I can feel all eyes upon us.
    I clear my throat. “Star, there’s a lot of crazy talk going on around here today.”
    She cocks her head slightly to one side. Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. Her smile is immovable.
    “Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard,” I say, stumbling on with it. “You know. About me. About Jackson. About me and Jackson. Or whatever.”
    That head tilts a bit more. Smile still in place.
    I forge ahead. “Anyways. I just wanted to tell you myself that I’m sorry, like if you heard something stupid that made you think anything was going on. Like with Jackson and me or anything. Because I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
    The smile gets bigger, but somehow I’m not relieved.
    “So really that’s all,” I say. “We’re okay then. Right?”
    She smiles deeply and shifts the books she’s holding. Then, without changing her expression, with that smile still beaming, she whispers, “Wrong. We are not okay.”
    Chills invade my body as my blood turns to ice.
    Star flashes me another smile and turns to go. “See you, Mary Jane!” she calls back to me, so friendly, so nice, that for a minute I wonder if I dreamed the last ten seconds, like a streak of lightning that flashes in a clear sky, leaving you to doubt your own eyes once it’s gone.
    Did Star really say what I thought she said? We are not okay.

7
    Bullies
    I’m still replaying my scene with Star as I wait in line to drive out of the senior parking lot. The voices in my head agree that I really did see what I thought I saw, the evil Star poking through the pseudosweet one. They just can’t agree what I should do about the vision.
    You should have decked Star Simons right there in the hall! M.J. insists.
    But did you see how beautiful Star was, even when she gave you that evil look? Plain Jane points out. Maybe you should get your hair cut like hers.
    I want Alicia.
    I fumble for my cell, find it, and hit my #1 speed dial.
    As it rings, I picture Alicia sitting in class, her phone ringing in her big flowered bag. She’s always rejected backpacks and conventional book bags. Surely college couldn’t have changed her that much. She’s only been gone a few months, but it feels like years.
    “What?” It’s Alicia’s voice, but she sounds sleepy. And angry. Maybe out of breath.
    “Alicia? It’s me. Mary Jane.”
    “Just a minute.”
    Muffled voices. One of them male.
    I picture Alicia, petite, five feet two, blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail. Bright blue eyes and teeny nose. She was the kind of girl guys would see and want to hug and protect. But talk to her for two seconds, and you’d know she didn’t need a guy to protect her. She dated a lot in high school. But she never had a real boyfriend. And she was fine with it.
    She comes back to the phone. “Sorry, Mary Jane. Can you hang on a minute?”
    “Is this a bad time, Alicia?” I ask.
    Somebody, a guy, laughs in the background. “No!” he shouts, and I hear him over the phone. “It’s a great time! Just not to talk.”
    “Shut up!” Alicia says, but not to me, and she’s laughing.
    Plain Jane is whining in my head. You shouldn’t be bothering Alicia. Obviously,