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different culture—both pleased and shamed me on some incalculable, twisted level of my psyche. After that, I made a promise to myself—to do better, to be good. The harsh truth was far simpler. He made me feel something . Good or bad. I wasn’t sure; but I was disturbed by all this contemplative thought. Enough so, that when we returned home, I was intent on changing my ways. I was intent upon becoming the good daughter my parents so desperately needed. I would serve as Holly’s replacement in the only way I knew how: I would become more like her, at least for the foreseeable future, and effectively eschew my defiant and deviant ways for fucking a stranger—a foreign one at that. I’d be more careful. I’d be good.
    Even so, here at Paly, despite my rather stealthy and unspectacular return to school and maintaining a somewhat earnest intent upon being more like Holly and focusing solely upon ballet, I’ve been unable to completely avoid the piercing spotlight. You would think after a long while that people would forget all about my sad circumstances—sans sister; but no, you would be wrong. A proverbial slow season of inevitable relationship breakups this spring keeps Holly’s fiery demise firmly planted into the hearts and minds of Paly’s student body and continues to hold their unwelcome attention upon me—sole survivor Tally—the victim’s sister. With Holly’s tragic end still reigning as the top newsflash for the year, I serve as the unwilling entertainment—fodder for the social headlines—starring in the lead role as the dead sister’s twin.
    And I hear the whispers. The fervent gossip is everywhere around me.
    Did you see her? How do you think she does it? Have you seen her mom? I hear her mom’s drinking again, and her dad works all the time at the hospital. It must be hard on them all, losing Holly like that. I don’t know what I’d do. She looks so sad . Do you think we should say something? Or, do you think she wants to be left alone? Have you seen Rob Thorn? I hear he’s thinking of transferring . It’s probably hard on the guy seeing his dead girlfriend’s face every day in the form of Tally Landon’s.
    I do hear you, you know. I hear it all.
    This is not attention that I am seeking. This is not a story I want to star in; but, apparently, I don’t have a choice in the matter. I’m counting the final hours that will lead me to the safe haven that only graduation can promise—a permanent respite from the self-serving gossip. A permanent break from high school is just what I need.
    “There’s a party tonight—a kind of welcome-summer-lets-celebrate party.” Marla pauses for a moment, letting her announcement sink in. “At Charlie’s,” she adds in that breathless way of hers.
    I glance at her sideways and grimace. “As in Charlie Masterson? As in the Charlie from two years ago? That one?”
    “Don’t start.”
    “He broke your heart. Who’s starting anything? The question is. Why do you want to finish it with him?”
    She shrugs in a weak imitation of nonchalance. “Apparently, he’s changed.” She tries to smile but the corners of her mouth tremble and betray her futile attempt at bravado.
    I roll my eyes and sigh. “Uh huh. He’s between girlfriends and wants to hook up with a previous one. Let me guess; finals are done at UCLA, and he’s home for the summer.”
    My cynicism hails from the last two years of Marla’s never-ending mental anguish over Charlie Masterson. He managed to break her heart and for that—even though she was only sixteen at the time and couldn’t possibly know what she wanted in a guy, in a first love, no doubt— he sucked, in my mind. Big time. Still does.
    Marla ignores my mocking tone. “His cousin will be there. The baseball player. I told Charlie I’d bring a friend. I want to set you two up.” She smiles wider as if she’s discovered a new magic trick and is just waiting to show me.
    “No.”
    “His cousin and you as a setup is a