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planning to say sounded stupid or melodramatic.
    I had wanted to tell Ariel that she was my best friend and that I didn’t know how I would have made it through the last year without her. I wanted to tell her that I hated the way she had been forced to become my whole support system when my parents threw in the towel. I wanted to tell her that my leaving town had nothing to do with her, that I was different now and trying to stay the same just made me feel more out of place. But I couldn’tsay any of it. It was as if, by not talking about it, I thought I could pretend nothing had changed. Still, it had changed, and we both knew it. But neither of us wanted to admit it.
    And Ariel’s own attempts to lighten the mood only made things worse. Her story about the wild party at Josh’s dad’s house reminded me of Paul and the way everything had fallen apart with us. Paul and Josh were best friends. Paul had broken up with me almost a year ago, right after my fifteenth birthday. That birthday party was the most depressing celebration ever. It had only been three months since my sister’s death, and I got totally smashed and lost my virginity to Paul. It was in no way the romantic earth-shattering first time I thought it would be. It was sloppy and uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally. Neither of us could remember it very clearly the next day, and I could tell Paul felt guilty—like he had taken advantage of me, even though I was the one who had initiated it, hoping it would make me feel better. Or not even better, just different. I wanted to feel anything besides loss and regret, but it only made everything worse. It was humiliating to barely be able to recall what was supposed to be such a pivotal experience in my life. And a few days later Paul dumped me. I never got a clear answer as to why, but I could tell he regretted that night almost as much as I did. He was just too much of a guy’s guy to say it.
    Still, it was hard for me to blame our breakup solely on the sex thing. The first few weeks after my sister’s death were a dark, tangled blur, and then I became an emotional zombie. I hadpushed everything away from me. My friends. My feelings. Paul. Luckily for me, Ariel had stuck it out. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to do the same for her.
    My stomach was rumbling, and it wasn’t just from hunger. But eating would have to do, since I obviously wasn’t going to be able to fix things with Ariel anytime soon. I grabbed the map of the campus so I could find the cafeteria and left my room. When I was halfway down the hall, Ms. Moore’s door opened, and I could see the house mistress talking to someone who was still inside her room.
    “Thanks again for this. I really appreciate all the extra work you’ve done—you’re a tremendous help to those kids you tutor.” Ms. Moore paused in the doorway, her back still to me. “You seem to have a knack for teaching—have you ever considered it as a career?”
    “Probably not. I’m more comfortable in a lab with petri dishes than interacting with people.” The unknown girl’s laugh was light and sparkling. “And I’ve been dreaming of Harvard Medical School since kindergarten.” Her voice wasn’t completely recognizable, but somehow it still seemed oddly similar to—I tried to think—well, someone.
    “The world’s gotta have cancer researchers, too.” Ms. Moore moved into the hall, and an attractive black-haired girl followed her out of the room.
    Corinne
. Now I knew why the voice had sounded familiar but off. The friendly, open way Corinne spoke to Ms. Moore didn’t even remotely resemble the tone she took with me.
    Ms. Moore locked her door, then turned around. Spotting me, she gave a little wave. “I’ll see you girls later.”
    As soon as she was gone, Corinne turned on me. “Well, well. If it isn’t Little Miss L.A.” Her expression made me think of a coiled snake ready to strike. “What are
you
doing here?”
    “I live here,” I