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anything. What's there to say that isn't the wrong thing?
    But of course, just as he parks the car in the student lot, Buddy says it anyway. Looking past me at Ellie, he asks, "Do I have any chance of getting her back?"
    Now my face is surely on fire, and there's a lump in my throat.
    I could tell him, but of course I don't. Can't. I hear the pain in his voice. Maybe it wasn't all his fault she dumped him. Maybe she wanted someone better, someone like Ralph, a popular guy, not a nobody like Buddy.
    To avoid looking at him, I stare at the blue tassel from his cap, which he's hung on the rearview mirror. No more classes for Buddy, no more books. Lucky him. He's a graduate now, an alumnus. He won't be back in the fall. He won't have to see Cheryl again.
    Ellie shakes her head. "She really likes Ralph." There's no sympathy in her voice or the flip of her ponytail. She doesn't like Buddy. Never has. Tough break.
    Buddy mutters a word I've seen written on walls but never heard anyone say out loud. Without looking at either of us, he reaches across us and opens our door. "What're you waiting for?" he asks. "The bell's ringing."
    Ellie and I get out, me clumsily, my skirt catching on the stick shift. I jerk it free and shut the door. Buddy drives away, screeching the tires the way he did last night.
    We agree to meet at the school's main door as soon as we get out of class and head off to our homerooms.
    Miss Atkins collects library fines and textbooks. She hands out report cards. I have four Cs—PE, American history, chemistry, and Latin II, which I thought would be easy for me because of being Catholic but boy, was I wrong. I hoped I might get an A in English, but Mr. Smith has given me a B. My only consolation is my usual A in art. No celebration at my house. My mother will ask why I don't try harder, why I'm such an underachiever, why I don't care about my grades. I'm smart, she says, but I don't make an effort. Where will I go in life?
    I want to tell her I'm not smart. I want to tell her school is boring. It's meaningless. It doesn't matter. High school is a waste of time. And anyway, what's wrong with a C average? Aren't most people average? Isn't that what average means?
    Besides, I want to be an artist. I'm sure artists don't care about grades. Like me, they know high school is just this thing you have to get through. Once you're out, you're free to think and do what you like.
    But standing at the double green doors, waiting for Ellie, I feel my insides churn again. I might tune my mother out, but I won't forget what she says. Or maybe it's more like I'll forget the words but not the meaning. I'm lazy, I'm a disappointment, I'll never amount to anything.
    Then Ellie's there. Charlie and Paul are with her. So is Ralph. And Don.
    I can't say a word, my heart is bumping and thumping and my knees feel funny. Don. Why is Don here?
    "I thought Cheryl and Bobbi Jo would be with you," Ellie says to me.
    I blush. It sounds like an accusation. What have I done? Why aren't they with me?
    "I haven't seen them," I say.
    "Cheryl promised to meet me," Ralph says. "Don and I were going to take her and Bobbi Jo to Top's for milk shakes."
    So it's true, I think, I was right. He's fixing Bobbi Jo up with Don. I want to say, "Ellie and I can go instead." I try to smile at Don, but the lump in my throat is back and now it's me, not Buddy, I feel sorry for.
    "They came by the house this morning," Ellie says, "but we weren't ready and they left without us."
    "Where do you think they are?" I ask her, suddenly worried. "They should be here."
    "Maybe they decided to skip and go to Horn and Horn for coffee," Ellie says with a shrug. "Cheryl does that sometimes."
    Somehow I don't think Ellie's right, not when Cheryl was planning to meet Ralph. She wouldn't stand him up. A whisper of worry runs through my head, but I tell myself nothing could be wrong. What could happen to her and Bobbi Jo between home and school? A twenty-minute walk. Maybe less.