“That’s three for each of us,” Dee says. “Because twelve divided by four is three. I mean, there’s five of us, I guess, but Miki doesn’t count.” Everyone turns to look at her.

“Foot in mouth, much?” Sarah asks.

Dee narrows her eyes at her. “I mean, Miki never eats cupcakes, so I’m not counting her among the cupcake eaters.”

She’s right. I never join them for treats. My one exception is a single weekly Pop-Tart. I control every bite that goes into my mouth, making sure it’s healthy, a holdover from when Mom was sick. She tried every medical option the doctors offered, and every alternative option she could find. That included healthy eating to up her antioxidants and bioflavonoids and stuff.

The healthy eating stuck with me. Which isn’t a bad thing. But what Dee just said about me not being a cupcake eater is a bad thing, not because she said it, but because it’s how she sees me. How they all see me. How, maybe, I need to start seeing myself. I’m so rigid that I snap at my friends if they even offer me a cookie. And that definitely isn’t a good thing.

I’m starting to think that maybe trying so hard to always be in control is making me feel out of control.

So tonight I’m going to eat a cupcake and laugh with my friends and let the evening turn into whatever it is. Tonight, I loosen the reins enough to just be.

I take a deep breath and a leap of faith. “Actually,” I say, “there are five of us. I’m planning on scarfing down one of these puppies.” They all stare at me. “Just one. The rest of you get to split the other nine.”

Carly steps outside and hugs me. She knows me better than anyone. She knows what this is costing me.

“Wait . . . nine? How does a dozen minus one equal nine?” Sarah asks.

“Oh, um, there are only ten cupcakes in the box. I bought a dozen, but Jackson ate one of the banana ones and one of the vanilla ones . . . payment for driving me to pick them up.”

“Oh. My. Gawd.” Dee’s eyes widen, and she claps her palms together. “Jackson drove you? As in, you were with Jackson Tate? The two of you? Alone? Like a date? With Jackson?” She rushes the door and scoots around me, then spins back when she finds the street empty, looking disappointed. “You could have brought him in.”

“No, she could not,” Kelley says. “Because then she couldn’t spill deets.” Carly takes the box. Kelley grabs my arm. “Talk. Now.”

And just like that, I’m one of them again. Maybe I always was.

“Can I come inside first?”

“Always,” Carly says, her smile so bright I think I need to borrow a pair of Jackson’s shades. Her eyes meet mine. “And while I won’t complain about the cupcakes, you will never, ever need a bribe to come inside.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THINGS ARE PRETTY CALM OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS. Jackson and I hang out. Carly and I hang out. Sometimes the extended group hangs out after school under the giant oak at the end of the field, but usually it’s just me and Carly and Kelley and Dee meeting there for our after-school recap.

Despite the sun and clear, blue sky, the air’s cold. I zip my hoodie, then my jacket, but the chill remains. I shiver and glance around, waiting for Kelley and Dee to catch up, trying to convince myself that the goose bumps on my skin are just from the cold and not from the feeling that . . . something’s out there.

Which is kind of silly because something is out there: the Drau.

But this feeling is more immediate, more personal.

I push the thought aside and watch as Kelley pulls a checkered blanket from her backpack, snaps it open, and spreads it on the ground. She catches me watching her and says, “The ground’s too cold. It makes my butt ache.”

Carly flops down and gets comfortable. “If you’d put on a couple of pounds, it wouldn’t be so much of a problem,” she teases. “Or maybe start running, like Miki. She has a little muscle padding.” She reaches up to slap my butt. I dance out of her reach just in time.

“Jealous?”

“Insanely. I could bounce a quarter off your butt.” She grins slyly. “Or Jackson could.”

“So start running with me.”

She does the Carly eyebrow thing. “Not that jealous. I value the extra hours in bed.” Her gaze slides past me to where a group of girls clusters around one of the picnic tables near the side door of the school. “Queen Bee and her drones,” she says. “Again.”

The Queen Bee being Marcy Kern with her head lady-in-waiting, Kathy Wynn, by her side.

“Weird,” Dee says. “I wonder why they started hanging out after school. Seems like lately they’re here every time we are.”

“Weird,” Carly agrees, then glances over at the track, where Jackson, Luka, and Aaron are doing laps. “Maybe they like the scenery.”

Dee laughs.

I study Marcy’s group a moment longer, trying to shake off the impression that they aren’t watching the guys, they’re watching us.

“So did you hear about Aaron and Shareese?” Kelley asks. “They broke up.”

“What?” I ask, my attention snared by the news.

“Oh my gawd.” Dee’s eyes widen. “They’ve been together forever. They can’t break up. They’re, like, the perfect couple.”

“Are they?” Kelley asks. “They’ve been together for, what, two years? And Aaron’s parents still didn’t know they were dating. He snuck around behind their backs because he knew they wouldn’t approve. Supposedly, he even went on a date with some girl who’s the daughter of his father’s friend just to placate them.”