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friendship . . . eventually.
    “Seafood egg rolls?” a waitress asked as she held a tray of fried appetizers in front of the girls.
    “How about we trade?” Dylan took the platter and handed the name tags to the waitress. “Please make sure everyone gets one.” She turned her back toward the girl and popped an egg roll in her mouth. “Anyone else want?” Dylan asked while she chewed.
    “Sure.” Claire reached forward and dunked an egg roll in the plum sauce dish. As she brought it to her mouth, a glob of brown sauce fell on Massie’s silk cami.
    “Thank Gawd for Woolite.” Kristen smirked.
    “I am so sorry.” Claire’s cheeks turned red and her bright blue eyes suddenly looked navy. “I’ll save up my allowance and buy you another one. I promise.” She grabbed a handful of gold cocktail napkins off the tray and started wiping the brown stain right above her left boob.
    “It’s okay.” Massie’s heart was pounding so quickly, she imagined it bursting out of her chest and beating against Claire until she was facedown on the ground begging for mercy. “I’ll get some seltzer. . . .”
    “Try this.” A mysterious hand entered their circle. It was waving a bag of red cinnamon hearts in one hand and a wet white napkin in the other.
    “Cam!” A big smile warmed Claire’s face.
    Massie caught a whiff of the familiar mix of Drakkar Noir and grape Big League Chew that was Cam Fisher. As usual, he was wearing his brother’s old leather jacket, but tonight, instead of a tattered white tee underneath, Cam was wearing his Briarwood Tomahawks soccer jersey. He held out a tumbler-sized glass of water for Claire while she dipped the napkin and dabbed the stain.
    “Hey,” Derrington mumbled, “I heard there was a wet T-shirt contest going on over here.” His caramel brown eyes flickered with mischief.
    Massie felt her cheeks burn and faced Claire to avoid Derrington’s gaze. But the instant he turned toward his perma-tanned friend Chris Plovert, who for some reason was on crutches, Massie checked him out.
    Derrington looked good. His hair was perfectly grown out. Two more weeks and he’d need a trim, but right now his dirty blond strands sat right on top of his dark lashes in a very sloppy-chic sort of way. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t gotten over the whole shorts-in-the-winter thing, but his knees didn’t look as knobby as they had before the holidays. He must have put on muscle at skate camp. And as far as Massie could tell, they were still the exact same height.
    “Well, aren’t you going to ask me about skate camp?” he asked Massie.
    She twirled the diamond stud in her ear and cocked her head to the side. Massie thought she looked much better at an angle than she did head-on.
    “Actually, I was going to ask you why you guys are wearing soccer jerseys to a black-tie-optional party. But if you’d rather start with skate camp, that’s fine.”
    Derrington lowered his head and smiled at his shirt. He looked up at Massie as though he were peering out over the tops of a pair of sunglasses. “It’s for good luck. Kind of an old superstition. All we have to do is beat Grayson Academy next week and we’re in the finals, which would be so cool, because for the last ten years . . .”
    Massie had no idea what Derrington was talking about. Nor did she care. But she nodded her head and squinted, so he’d think she was absolutely riveted. But all she could think about was the puddle of sweat that was forming above her lip. Was it rude to apply a fresh coat of gloss while someone was talking to her? Would he think she was gross if she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand? Was it grosser to let the sweat just sit there? Ugh! Life was so much easier when she was crush-free.
    “And we’re gonna win.” Derrington jumped and turned at the same time, so his butt was facing the inside of their circle. Then he shook it and slapped it a few times. Chris, Cam, Claire, Kristen, and Dylan all cracked up.