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bowling alley and into the dazzling light outside. I’d had reason in the past to suspect that Charlie and Finn might have feelings for each other that went beyond friendship. In fact, Finn had been similarly annoyed when Charlie started going out with her now-ex-boyfriend, Mitch. But when Charlie and Mitch broke up, Finn didn’t make any move to change the status of his relationship with Charlie. Instead, everything between Charlie and Finn went back to normal—Finn did his best to torment Charlie, and, in return, she insulted him at every possible opportunity.
    But now, seeing Charlie’s expression—her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight, white line—I thought that the feelings might still be there, at least on Charlie’s side. But I knew better than to ask her. She’d just deny it, and worse, would get into a snit with me. And since Charlie and I had just made up from our last fight, which had lasted several months, I didn’t want to stir the waters again so soon.
    Charlie stopped abruptly in the parking lot, kicking a stone aside.
    “I don’t even think she’s that pretty, do you?” Charlie asked me. “And I’m pretty sure her hair color isn’t natural.”
    I decided not to point out the obvious—that Charlie’s own hair hadn’t been a natural shade since she bought her first box of hair coloring at the age of eleven—deciding that this observation would just irritate her further. So instead I shrugged and said, “I thought she was cute.”
    “I don’t. Her nose is too thin,” Charlie said. “And her nostrils are too large.”
    “Really? I didn’t notice that,” I said.
    “How could you not notice? They’re freakishly large. I’ve seen horses with smaller nostrils,” Charlie said. She kicked another stone out of her way. “They’re so big, you could park a car in there.”
    “Hmm,” I said noncommittally. I didn’t think that Phoebe had abnormally large nostrils. She was actually quite pretty. But I had a feeling Charlie wouldn’t want to hear that just now.
    “Do you need a ride home?” Charlie asked. Unlike me, Charlie already had her driver’s license and an ancient Jeep, which she’d inherited from one of her older sisters.
    “I biked over,” I said, gesturing toward my silver ten-speed, which I’d chained to the bike stand outside the bowling alley.
    “That’s okay. We can throw your bike in the back of the Jeep.”
    On the drive back to the beach house, Charlie was silent. I didn’t mind. I was turning the Amelia problem over in my head. I wondered if Charlie was right—maybe I did have a moral obligation to help Amelia. I had no intention of turning her into my minion, of course . . . but maybe, just maybe, I could teach her that it was possible to have an extraordinary talent and still live an ordinary life. Amelia could have friends, and be silly, and have interests outside of her music.
    Yes, I decided, I should help her. Besides, I’d already accepted the job. I couldn’t quit after one day. I’d go back tomorrow, and I’d figure out a way to get Amelia to open up to me.
    The only question was, how exactly was I supposed to go about doing that?

    Dex called me on my cell phone that night after dinner. I was in my room, stretched out on my bed, rereading How to Get Noticed and wondering if I should expand on the story, maybe even turn it into a short novel. I’d never taken on such a big project before, but the idea was exciting.
    “Hey, you,” Dex said. His voice was soft and warm in my ear, and I felt the familiar zing shoot through me. “How was your day?”
    “Let me put it this way—it was so bad, I found myself hoping Amelia would ask me to play ‘pirates’ with her,” I said.
    Dex laughed. “It was worse than being tied to a tree?” “Almost. Do you know anything about classical music?”
    “Mozart. Beethoven. Bach.”
    “Can you teach me about them?” I asked eagerly.
    “No. All I know is their names.”
    “Oh,” I said,