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I'm finally getting good enough to play first trumpet for band, and I've been taking extra lessons, but then last year, David Berger just up and decides he wants to learn trumpet, and in like three months, he's better than everyone, so he gets every single solo, and every single award, and I get absolutely nothing, ever, no matter how hard I practice, and I really hate David Berger!" He stopped for a second, and we all thought he was done, but then he started up again. "Last June, when they picked kids for the Young Musicians Society, did I get picked? No! David Berger, David Berger, all anybody ever hears about is David Berger! I can't stand him, and now he's been picked to play for the high school band— can you believe it? And then . . ."
    "Jason," I said, interrupting, "how do you say all that without breathing?" There were a few giggles from around the circle.
    "Well, sorry," said Jason. "I thought you wanted to know."
    "You can tell us after everybody's had a chance," said Cheryl.
    Everyone turned to Abbie, who had her strawberry blonde hair in some new style that was hard not to stare at.
    "Well, as you know, I'm Abbie Singer, and I have absolutely no idea why I'm here." And that's all she said at first.
    "C'mon, Abbie, you know why," said Cheryl.
    "No, I really don't. I'm not second-best at anything—I don't even think I'm third-best. I do hate Vera Donaldson, like you said when you first told me about this club thing, Cheryl, but she is definitely not better than me in anything."
    I turned to Cheryl, but Cheryl didn't say anything. It was Jason who spoke, very softly. "I know why you're here," he said, looking down at the pair of glasses he held in his hands. "You're here because you're the second-prettiest girl in school."
    Abbie thought about this. "Is that why, Cheryl?"
    "Well, you are the second most popular girl in school."
    Abbie smiled. "Yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?"
    "Vera Donaldson is a snot," said Jason. I thought that was too nice a word for her.
    "Well, not everyone thinks so. She's the most popular girl in school," said Abbie, "and she hates my guts. I don't know why, but every time there's a guy who likes me, she always steals him away first, just for fun, or tells him nasty things about me. Do you know how it feels for people to say nasty stuff about you like that? And none of it's true! Absolutely none of it!" She clenched her teeth and her hands rolled into fists. "Just thinking about her makes my head hurt."
    "Say it!" said Cheryl.
    "I hate Vera Donaldson!"
    O.P., who was next, looked around a bit nervously. She had been quiet all this time and knew perfectly well why she was here. O.P. was Korean, I think, but she didn't have any accent at all.
    "I'm Karin Han . . . and . . . I guess I'm smart. I have the second-highest math and reading scores in the ninth grade. I get the second-best grades in just about everything, and Tommy Nickols always gets the best."
    "Ughh! He's such a bozo," said Abbie.
    "If I get a ninety-eight on a test," she continued, "then Tommy will get a ninety-nine. All the time. So last year he started to call me O.P, and now everyone does. It stands for 'One Point.'"
    Randall giggled and Cheryl elbowed him.
    "Yeah, everyone thinks it's funny. I don't mind being called it, but I hate it when Tommy Nickols says it. I guess I hate Tommy Nickols."
    Last in the circle was Darren Collins, whose legs seemed longer than just about everyone's whole body. He was fourteen, but was getting pretty close to six feet already. I'll give you one guess what he did.
    "Yeah, I'm second-best, too," admitted Darren. "I've never gotten MVP on any basketball team, I was always next in line—someone else always beat me out. Usually it doesn't really bug me that much, but for two years Eric Kilfoil has been making me look like a fool on the court all the time. He's like turned me into the team mascot or something, and makes everybody think I 'm a dumb jock—but I 'm not, I get good grades. Then he