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the freshman hallway and searched for her. I rationalized it; if she had some sort of scoop on my dad, I needed to prepare for a possible retaliation. Everyone had dirt—I just had to figure out hers.
    Sh e leaned against the furthest locker, next to the girls’ bathroom, and pulled on the ruffles of her skirt while Mrs. Dotson, the music director, bragged about the Raven swing choir. She’d taught at Rockingham for twenty four years and hadn’t lost her spirited enthusiasm.
    “ Of course, you can use the classroom during your free period! And, I think you should really consider joining the choir,” Mrs. Dotson said eagerly and handed her a stack of papers. “You have the natural octave for All-State soprano.”
    Alice Mae shoved the papers into her locker. It was the second day of school, and her locker was already crammed full with random junk—plastic soldiers, dozens of torn folders, a monocle, fingernail polish, one striped sock, two empty water bottles, a bungee cord, sparklers, and a vintage camera... A ball of purple yarn bounced out before she was able to shut the door. It rolled on the floor, zigzagging sporadically, as if an invisible cat was pouncing on it.
    Whil e Mrs. Dotson chatted on and on about the glory of the Rockingham choir, Alice Mae stopped the ball with her foot. I was ninety-nine percent sure that Alice Mae sneered at the ball, but I was too far away to know with absolute clarity. While Mrs. Dotson talked about Alice Mae’s future music career, the girl looked straight at me; like someone had tipped her off that I was creeping from around the corner.
    Possible reaction strategies included: tiptoeing backwards, playing the total stalker role and stare back, or manning-up.
    Alice Mae was clearly up to something; she had admitted it; we were playing a game. Who’s Who—whatever that meant. And she confessed to being a liar, in passing anyway. If she wanted to play games, I’d give it a go.
    Wearing a smug grin , she bent over and picked up the ball. While she slowly twirled the string back around the ball, she never took her eyes off of me. I pretended not to be unnerved by her glaring stare as I approached her.
    “ What’s up, Mrs. D?” I asked.
    “ It’s Mrs. Dotson,” she corrected. Her hands were on her hips like my mom would do when she was scolding me, but there were the makings of a smile on her face. “I was just trying to convince Alice to join—”
    “ I prefer to go by Alice Mae .”
    “ My apology, I’ll give you a few days to mull it over, but I think you could really be phenomenal in the choir. Maybe you’d consider singing the National Anthem before one of the football games.”
    “ I’ll ponder it,” Alice Mae said.
    I ’ll ponder it? Who talked like that nowadays?
    Mrs. Dotson said, “Keep on her, won’t you, Ryley? Alice Mae has a charismatic voice, wouldn’t you agree?”
    What was I supposed to say? Yeah, she sound ed enchanting, but then again sirens lured unsuspecting sailors to their watery deaths with their alluring song. Thus, I shrugged my shoulders. “She sounds like a girl.”
    “ A girl?” Alice Mae repeated. “Was it my hair or my makeup that tipped you off that I am a female? Or possibly you noticed my dress when you were staring at my arse? Shall I give you a sticker for identifying me as a girl by the sound of my voice?”
    “ Ummm,” I said and then turned my embarrassing, audible response into a cough.
    Mrs. Dotson fell for Alice Mae ’s infectious smile. The teacher beamed. “Your vocabulary amazes me as well, Ryley. For someone who’s gunning for a highly coveted physics scholarship, one would think that you’d have more well-rounded language skills,” Mrs. Dotson said with just the right amount of professionalism mixed with motherly assertiveness.
    “ I’ll work on it,” I said.
    “ Good,” Mrs. Dotson said, looking at her wristwatch. After commenting that she had to get to class before the freshmen staged a heist, she