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on cemetery walls? Cemeteries were the first public parks.” My jaw literally drops, I’m so shocked at the random factoid. I guess we are technically in a cemetery, but I didn’t expect him to respond spouting like an encyclopedia. “Take care of yourself tonight, Hella Stella.” And with that, he walks away.
    I can barely tear my eyes away from his back. What is he thinking saying something like that to me? And in front of our school’s biggest gossip hoarders. Doesn’t he understand that I already have enough people whispering about me? I get roller-coaster stomach as I turn back to the girls.
    Janey’s gawking wordlessly at me. Her eyes are glazed doughnut holes imagining all the headlines she can spin out of this. “Do you have a mint?” I snap. I can practically see the cogs winding tighter in her head. She fumbles through her purse and produces a box of Altoids.
    She pops open the lid and holds them out to me. “What was his problem?” she asks, her tone all sugar.
    â€œTotal freak,” Kate says, smacking her lips.
    I snatch two mints and pop them into my mouth to banish the foul taste that’s still there. “Biggest freak ever,” I mutter halfheartedly. “Whatever, I have to get back to Zoey, byes.” I jump up and hurry away from them. I wrap my arms around myself as I go, trying to ease the queasiness that’s crept up on me.
    â€œGod, you’re such a fugly witch,” I scold myself. But Sam didn’t give me a choice. I practically begged him to shut up. Pleaded with him not to call me that. Maybe it’s for the best? Maybe it was the humane thing to do? Yeah, it’s better if Sam gives up trying to be my friend. It’s been too many years. I mean, he even knows I lied about Scott Townsend being my first kiss because I didn’t want to admit it was him. How could he stand me after that?
    The mints mingle with the sourness in my mouth. The taste of shame or guilt or remorse. It’s rancid like the shish kebab Zoey and I got from a food truck the last time we were in Minneapolis. I spit the mints on the ground just before I exit the cemetery, tapping the heart on the iron gate to leave any clinging spirits behind me. The bonfire is almost exactly how I left it, except that there are more half-naked girls and boys dancing on the shore. Cole has stripped down to her bra and skirt and is gyrating against a senior football player who was a transfer last year too. Michaela’s still fully clothed, but she’s actually dancing with a guy, albeit two feet away from him—but dancing is dancing, right?
    Zoey’s on the opposite side of the bonfire, standing on a folding chair, surrounded by guys. She’s a queen addressing her subjects from a pedestal. One after another each boy in the crowd takes a shot ofsomething clear, and Zoey knocks her own head back, lips suctioned suggestively around a bottle of booze. I catch her unfocused eye, and she beckons me over with a roundabout, inebriated wave. I motion for her to wait. So that’s how the night will end. Zoey will outdance, outflirt, and outplay everyone. I’ll have to drag her away from the party. What’s new? At least I won’t have to hold her pixie hair back when she hurls in the parking lot.
    I make a beeline toward the crowd of dancers. I start searching for him before I even admit to myself who I’m looking for. I crane my neck and stand on my tiptoes, straining to glimpse Sam. This foul taste in my mouth isn’t going away until I apologize. If I can just tell him that I only said what I said because of Janey and Kate. He has to understand how it is.
    Even though the shore is wide and long, my classmates are squished and sandwiched into one another, like invisible walls are pressing them together. His being on the dance floor is a long shot, and I’m not surprised that my search comes up empty. Small bunches of teenagers clot