“I brought my lunch.” A lie. But her stomach was in knots from the drama with Gabriel, and food seemed like a bad idea.

“If you’re so hungry, go hang out in the cafeteria.”

“And leave you by yourself? God, Layne, do you know how that would look?”

Layne rolled her eyes, hoping yet not hoping that Kara wouldn’t see it. “Thanks for your concern.”

“Layne! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The bright voice had Layne jerking her head up.

There stood Taylor Morrissey and Heather Castelline. Glossy hair, glossy lips, formfitting clothes. Paragons of perfection.

Layne wondered if she should be running but they were on the cheer squad and could probably catch her. Would they beat the crap out of her right here in the library?

Kara’s mouth was hanging open.

“Hi?” Layne offered.

Taylor was smiling at her. “We were wondering if you were coming tonight. See, everyone is bringing something, and we’re trying to plan.”

“Coming where?” said Layne.

Heather giggled. “The party, silly.”

Kara punched her leg under the table.

Layne folded her arms across her chest. “The party. You want me to come to your party.”

“Well, Gabriel said you guys are friends, and it’s so obvious he’s got a thing for you, so ”

Kara punched her leg again. Layne was ready to hit her back.

She narrowed her eyes at Taylor. “Funny. In class you said I was a . . . wait, let me get this straight . . . a butchy dykey ”

“Please,” said Heather, rolling her eyes. “We call each other that all the time. Taylor’s a total whore.”

Taylor flipped her hair. “Totally. So are you coming or what?”

Layne stared at her.

“Yes,” said Kara. “Yes, we’re coming.”

Layne studied them. “I don’t buy it.”

She blocked her leg before Kara could punch her again.

“Look.” Taylor pulled out the chair and dropped into it. “I know we’re not always nice. But that’s how we have to be, or we’d be surrounded by losers.” She shrugged. “If Gabriel Merrick says you’re in, you’re in.”

“Come a little early,” said Heather. She stepped around the table and picked up the end of Layne’s braid. “We’ll do your hair. I bet you have awesome hair.”

Layne couldn’t move.

“She does,” said Kara. “It’s, like, all the way to her waist.”

“If you don’t want to come,” Taylor said, “I totally get it. I mean, Gabriel wasn’t going to come until I told him we’d be inviting you . . .”

Layne tried to imagine it, Taylor confronting him in the hallway, Gabriel brushing her off until hearing Layne would be there.

No way.

Then she thought of those two notes on her desk.

Maybe?

“Here’s my address.” Heather slid a piece of paper across the table. “Come at seven. Everyone else will show up around eight.”

Layne glanced down at the paper not like she needed to. It figured that Heather wouldn’t even remember that Layne lived right down the street. But it meant she wouldn’t be trapped at the party. If the girls started acting bitchy, she could walk home.

“Okay,” she said, hating that part of her was a little eager.

She hated these girls. Hated them.

But sometimes she desperately wished she were more like them.

Especially lately.

“I’ll come,” she said. “Seven?”

“We’ll come,” said Kara.

“Great,” said Taylor. “Bring something sweet, ’kay?”

Layne ticked down the minutes until her father would walk in the door. Another late night, as usual. She’d called to tell him that she and Kara were going to a friend’s house down the street, and he’d promised to be home before they left.

She and Kara had baked chocolate chip cookies, and they sat on a plate, covered in saran wrap. Kara was actually being nice for a change, and for the first time, Layne wondered if this was what a friendship was supposed to feel like: laughter and teasing and baking cookies.

Simon was upstairs, locked in his room. He’d worn a different shirt home from school, and when she’d tried to ask what his problem was, he’d given her a pretty universal sign of displeasure.

Kara was licking the spatula. “Are you seriously going to wear jeans and a turtleneck? To a party?”

Layne shrugged. “I think you’re showing enough skin for both of us.”

Kara was, in a spaghetti-strap top and skintight denim capris.

The pants were a little too tight, but Layne didn’t feel like opening that can of worms.

Kara dropped the spatula into the sink. “I have no idea how you got one of the Merrick brothers’ attention.”

“Me neither.”

“You don’t have to show skin to look sexy, for god’s sake.

What if you wore tights and a skirt? You could even keep the turtleneck.”

Layne hesitated.

Kara grabbed Layne’s hand and started dragging her toward the stairs. “At least try.”

Kara fished through Layne’s closet with abandon. Most of the clothes were older, grade-school stuff.

“Here!” She yanked out a pleated black and red plaid skirt.

Layne made a face. “Please. I used to wear that in fifth grade.