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today?” Ari’s voice cut through the room as she entered, but I kept my head down. “You could ace that stupid test in your sleep. I don’t know why you actually insist on studying and stressing about these things. It’s a waste of your time. And it’s a waste of my time because I haveto listen to you stress, when there are thousands of more interesting things we could be discussing. Like, for example, how ridiculously awesome my new cymbal is going to sound in rehearsal today. Much better topic.” To an outsider, maybe this sounded harsh, but this was how Ari played. This was how she loved. Usually I was amused by her and Ethan’s scathing back-and-forth, but not today.
    â€œI’m so sorry that I care about my grades and getting into an awesome college,” Ethan snapped back, though I could hear the smirk on his face without looking up. “I wish that you could bring yourself to care, too, friend, because I’m not going to support your broke ass when you can’t find a job someday. Protesting doesn’t pay the bills, you know.”
    â€œHa. Protesting’s just my hobby. And besides, I thought the four of us were going to become a famous indie rock quartet, so who needs a degree? Ari and the Misfits, that has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
    A hand latched on to my shoulder, shaking me.
    â€œYou okay?”
    I tilted my head, catching a glimpse of Ari’s long braid hanging over my desk. “What’s up with you, Iris? Who stole my radiant beam of sunshine?”
    Ethan and Delia stood behind her, Ethan squinting at me from behind his thick plastic frames—one lens smudged, I noticed, with what looked like a fingerprint ofdoughnut frosting—and Delia standing on tiptoes, peering at me from behind him. Delia carried herself like a ballerina, smooth and subtle, but strong. She looked like one, too, with her braids typically twisted up tight in a high bun, her clothes plain and solid colored, unremarkable. Her face, her eyes were all the expression she needed.
    â€œI’m fine,” I said, looking up to meet Ari’s intense amethyst gaze. “I just need the weekend. Some time outside these walls.”
    â€œYou’re so not fine,” Ari said, tapping a chipped sparkly blue nail against my desk.
    â€œI concur with Ari’s assessment,” Ethan chimed in. “You haven’t seemed
fine
all week, Iris. I know everyone’s been off with the news about the Judges and everything. But . . . you seem particularly low. Is there more to it?” He flopped down heavily in the seat next to mine, his overstuffed bag of comics and binders and textbooks ramming hard against our classmate Noah Kennedy’s back. Ethan was too preoccupied with me to notice. But Noah, a big burly guy in a Giants football jersey who generally just ignored our existence—as most of the senior class did—jerked his head around to shoot a death glare. I caught his eye first, though, before he could say anything to Ethan, and smiled at him. He looked momentarily confused, but then he smiled back, just for an instant, before turning back toward the front, as if he’d entirelyforgotten what had made him annoyed in the first place.
    It’s amazing what a smile can do.
    â€œOf course it’s the news about the bombing . . .” I started, looking over at Ethan. “It’s what the Judges did, and it’s what everyone,” I said, waving my arms around the room, “has to say about it now. I think it’s a normal reaction to be feeling a little troubled.”
    â€œThey’re total fucking lunatics, the Judges,” Ari said, sliding into the desk in front of me, her legs straddling the chair back so she could still stare me down. “But you have to agree, they had a point, didn’t they? Even if they went about proving it in a totally unacceptable and horrific kind of way. Disney is