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something I shouldn’t be saying. Something that isn’t even true. Something that could cause more harm than good.
    â€œWell,” I say, flicking my folder shut with a satisfied slap. “I should be sad, yeah. But I’m not. I mean, the reason Brandon broke up with me was because he was jealous of me and Micah. You know, Micah from the hair salon?” I flip my hair over my shoulder on this last part, mostly because it seems like something you would do when you’re delivering a particularly bratty line. “I started to really like him, and of course, I was trying to juggle both of them at the same time, but Brandon found out.” I roll my eyes. “So in a way, I kind of broke up with him .”
    Madison’s face darkens, her eyes narrowing into two tiny slits. “You like Micah?” she asks skeptically.
    â€œWell, yeah,” I say. “Didn’t you know that already? I mean, you were always telling Brandon how much time I was spending at the salon with him.”
    She has the decency to look a little guilty. “Well, yeah,” she says. “You were always there.”
    â€œYeah,” I say. “Because I liked him. I mean, uh, like him. Present tense. Anyway, when we started hanging out and everything, you know, Brandon got upset. And he caught me at the bowling alley with Micah, and so he broke up with me.”
    I’m surprised at how easily this slips out of my mouth. Of course, only part of it is a lie. Brandon did catch me at the bowling alley with Micah, I had lied about it, and Brandon did break up with me. But I don’t like Micah, at least not as more than a friend. And of course I leave out the part about telling Brandon I can see ghosts.
    â€œOh,” Madison says. “Well, that’s good. So you’re with Micah now?”
    I roll my eyes. “I don’t really want a boyfriend right now,” I say. “That’s how I got into this mess in the first place.” The idea that I would be in so much trouble because I had a boyfriend and would now want the chance to play the field is almost laughable. I’m so not that type. In fact, before I got together with Brandon, my experience with boys was pretty much zero.
    And Madison must know it, because she wrinkles up her nose and gives me a look. “I guess,” she says. Then she leans in so close that I can smell her perfume and see the perfect smooth line of her eyeliner. “But if I were you, I’d becareful. You don’t want to give up any opportunities with guys when you have them. You never know when they’re going to be gone.”
    And then she pats me on the head.
    Madison Baker actually pats me on the head!
    Talk about condescending.
    â€œAnyway,” she says in this totally bored tone, like I’ve been making her stand here talking about my boring boy problems, when she’s the one who started this stupid conversation in the first place. Then she reaches down into my book bag and pulls out my cell phone.
    â€œCute phone,” she says as she begins to program her number into it. “Here’s my number. Text me anytime. You know, if you need to talk. Or if you need any advice about how to act around Micah.”
    She slides my phone back into my bag. I don’t say anything, mostly because I’m kind of stunned. I mean, who does that? Just reaches into someone’s bag and pulls out their phone? Talk about a total breach of etiquette and privacy. What if I had something really embarrassing on there?
    â€œBye!” she says, like we’ve been having a totally pleasant conversation and we’re not mortal enemies and she didn’t try to just ruin my life and my relationship.
    I sigh and pull out my phone, studying it for signs of vandalism. I think about erasing her number, but somethinginside me decides not to. I’m not sure why—it’s not like I’m ever going to call her.
    But deleting it would mean