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eyeliner that makes his eyes so intense.”
    “Well, say what you like—it’s called style. And even you have to admit his eyebrow ring is way hot. So, I guess he’s twenty-two or something. He said he was seventeen when his son was born and he’s going into kindergarten soon—”
    “Oh my God! He’s got a kid? A kid who’s
five?”
    “Almost five. Dude, why are you freaking out? A lot of people have kids who are five.”
    “Not a lot of people who you’re crazy in love with.” Anne’s was the snort heard around the world, or at least around the cafeteria. “Well, you know what I mean. You are totally into the guy.”
    “Sure, he’s cool. And probably going to be the next Marc Ecko, or something. But for now, we’re keeping it cas’.”
    “Ah, so your mom caught on?”
    Anne pouted and scraped the last bit from her yogurt cup. “Totally. I’m guessing she made it clear that if he wanted to pass the class, he’d better
not
make a pass at me. What a killjoy. You’re so lucky your mom’s not around to see you and Alexander.”
    “Me and Zander? We’re not together.”
    “Yeah, right. You guys spend three hours together every week in your own little world, laughing your rapidly dwindling gluteus maximus off. For the past six weeks he’s never once picked me to model his stuff.”
    I smiled at her compliment and made a mental note to check out the full-length mirror later. I’d been so wrapped up in tight-roping that thin line between Cs and Ds in my classes, I’d completely spaced that there was some practical reason for Anne’s Betterment Plan.
    “From
that
you get that we’re together-together? In case you don’t remember, spending three hours together every week is my job. It’s not my fault no one else ever wants me to wear their clothes.”
    “Well, you sure seem to be enjoying your job. It’s like your own private comedy club back there. And he makes you the most gorgeous dresses. Don’t get me wrong—The Spikester’s look is hot. That bodice made entirely of metal zippers might have looked cool, but his fashion can be a little painful.”
    I accepted half of Anne’s offered banana. The carrots and hummus had lost their appeal after being transformed into the face of The Spikester. “Well, you must suffer for your beauty, after all. Zander’s great—really funny and so sweet.But it’s not like that with us—we’re friends. I do love his work. But it’s not like he’s designing the gowns for
me
or anything.”
    “Are you sure about that? Every one is your style, only more fab. Colors that rock with your exact skin tone. He spends half the class drooling over your drawings like they’re Rembrandts or something.”
    “He’s trying to learn from them.”
    “Imitation is the highest form of flattery, Quigley. Not that I disapprove. Zander’s definitely worthy. And you need someone to keep David on his toes, anyway.”
    “What!”
    “Well, you can’t give too much power to a guy—keep a few on the line and they all appreciate you a lot more. It’s really the only way to run a successful relationship.”
    I leaned back and tried to remember if any of Anne’s successful relationships had made it past the one-month mark.
    “So, really, this is perfect,” Anne went on. “You just need to decide between your guys before prom. I wouldn’t even bother to think too hard about it until a few weeks before the dance.”
    “Between my guys?”
    “Sure. David and Zander. You can’t be greedy, Quigley. Come prom time you’ll have to decide which one to keep and which to let go. Nobody’s that much of a jerk—youknow David’s only being mean because he’s into you. Boys are dumb like that.”
    I stared at her pupils to see if she’d stood too close to a Bunsen burner in chem. “Anne. I don’t have to decide which guy to keep. I don’t even have
one
guy, much less two.”
    “Well, prom’s less than six weeks away. Who are you going to go with then, Quigley?”
    I felt