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talking on the phone and not to me.
    Her words made me falter, then flatten my back against the wall, the baby hairs at the nape of my neck prickling.
    â€œShe’s here now,” my auntie said softly. After a pause she added, “Don’t you want to know about her?”
    She shook her head, her back to me, and I could tell by the way her shoulders moved that she let out a deep sigh.
    â€œWell, okay. Talk to you soon.” She hung up the phone and let it drop onto the tile counter with a thunk, before she moved toward the stove.
    But I stayed where I was, near the kitchen door, my back against the wall and my knees shaking so badly, I doubt I coulda walked right away. Who’d been on the phone? I couldn’t help wondering. Something nagged at me. Something made breathing difficult and left me confused and completely depleted of energy.
    To hell with the winter weather doing me good. I shoulda told Maurice I wanted that ride home. Wedging my bottom lip between my teeth, I pushed from the wall, the movement attracting my auntie’s attention.
    She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see you there.”
    â€œJust headed home,” I lied, unwilling to confess how whack I’d been to listen in on the ending to her conversation.
    â€œIt’s nasty outside. Let me give you a ride.” She looked at me again, then quickly back at the pot on the stove. But not so quickly that I didn’t see the shimmer of guilt in eyes the same shade of blue as Kayla’s.
    I shifted my backpack from one shoulder, sliding in the second arm. “I’ll just walk.” And then I was across the room and out the slider door, the blast of wind and rain stinging my face. The relief intense.
    Damn near running by the time I hit the street, I was hella trippin’ over what had happened in there. First Maurice sitting all up on me, then putting his number in my phone, then my auntie talking on the phone.
    Shit, it coulda been anyone on the other end of the line. Coulda been about anyone. But I couldn’t help the twisting of my gut, the nagging suspicion that it wasn’t just anyone, it was my mom.

CHAPTER 5
    Ten days ago all anyone talked about was MySpace. Who they were talking to, who they’d met, who was fine, who was leavin’ crazy-ass comments on whose page. Ten days ago, I spent whack hours updating my profile, changing the songs and videos, uploading silly pictures from my digital camera.
    Ten days ago, I’ve got to admit, MySpace was the shit. But that was before GettinHooked.com blew up our zip code.
    Now MySpace was hardly mentioned at all, and I heard nothing but buzz over our Web site and the whole prom date hook-up thang. My girls were all over this, hyped on the chance to check out the dudes at Creekside.
    And I was hearing ’bout it every chance they got, between classes, during lunch, after school, texts on my cell. It was gravity, though, because I was straight digging the attention. Cool with being the one all the Howard fellas went to when they wanted to know about my cousin and her friends.
    GettinHooked.com was bubbling and Kayla and I were in the middle of it.
    The talk about our hook-up system was constant. Even now, during my American Government class library time, I could hear some girls whispering a few tables over. Their voices carried in the hushed quiet of study.
    Not my friends really, but a couple of beezies who gave up their goodies way too easy. Not that I really had a problem with these girls. Nah, we were cool. I just don’t get down to the nasty the way they do.
    Creekside boys were going to be thankin’ me, I thought, biting my bottom lip to keep from laughing. Yanking up my hoodie, I focused on the book spread-eagle on the table in front of me. But even in the bright overhead lighting, the words mingled and fuzzed, my thoughts drifting ahead toward prom, and wondering if GettinHooked would work out the way