"Okay, now I know you're insane," April said. "That's due in like an hour."

"It wasn't mine anyway--not anymore."

Chapter Three Tabula Rasa

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER LUNCH

When art class started up again, I pulled out a crisp new piece of drawing paper and shot off a sketch of my favorite childhood teddy bear. It wasn't exactly up to par with my usual work--actually it wasn't up to par with my usual work when I was nine--but Mr. Barlow had a

"no tolerance" policy for not finishing an assignment. I figured shoddy work was better than no work, and slipped it under the stack of drawings on Barlow's desk before leaving class. April hung back to discuss her portfolio, and I ambled off to my chemistry test with only slightly less foreboding. My stomach felt better once I decided to forget I'd ever seen Daniel, but as far as the test? Well, my mother was not going to be happy. I'd managed to go over Pete's notes a couple of times before lunch ended, but even if I'd had a full night of studying, I'd be lucky to pull a C. I'm not a bad student. I have a 3.8 GPA, but I'm most definitely right-brained. AP chem was my mom's idea. Dad loved it when I worked on my paintings at the kitchen counter. He said it reminded him of his days in art school before he decided to join the clergy like his father and grandfather. But Mom wanted me to "keep my options open"--which meant she wanted me to become a psychologist, or a nurse like her.

I slipped into my seat next to Pete Bradshaw and drew in a deep breath, preparing to let out a languid sigh to prove I wasn't nervous, and was caught off guard by the clean, spicy scent of my chem lab partner. Pete had gym fifth period, and his hair was still damp from the shower. I'd noticed his scent of citrusy soap and fresh-applied deodorant before, but today it filled my senses and made me want to scoot closer to him. I guess it had something to do with what April said about his liking me.

I fumbled around in my backpack for my notebook and dropped my pen three times before I got it to rest neatly at the top of my desk.

"Feeling a little weak in the knees?" Pete asked.

"What?" My chem book took a dive off the desk.

"Test jitters?" Pete retrieved my book. "Everybody's freaking. You should've seen it, Brett Johnson only snarfed down half a supreme pizza for lunch. I thought that was bad, but you look like you've just seen the Markham Street Monster."

I winced. That joke had never been funny to me. I snatched the book out of his hands, "I'm not nervous at all." I drew in another deep breath and forced out a long, calm sigh. Pete flashed me one of his "triple threat" smiles, and my book hit the floor again. I chuckled as he picked it up, and I felt too warm in my sweater when he handed it back. Why am I such a dumb girl? I mean, seriously, get it together.

There was only one other boy who could make me feel stupid like that, but since I wasn't going to give him a second thought, I turned my focus to Mrs. Howell as she passed out her thick stack of tests.

"Hey, Brett and I are going bowling at Pullman's after practice." Pete leaned in with his lingering scent. "You should come."

"Me?" I glanced up at Mrs.. Howell as she put an upside-down test in front of me.

"Yeah. You and Jude. It'll be fun." Pete nudged me and grinned. "You can buy me that box of donuts you owe me."

"Jude and I are supposed to help Dad with his deliveries to the shelter." Pete actually looked disappointed for a split second, but then he perked up. "Well, how about I come over to help you after practice. It'll take, what, a couple of hours? Then we can bowl."

"Really? That would be great."

"Eyes up front," Mrs. Howell said. "Your test begins"--she tapped her watch--"now." Pete grinned and flipped his test over. I turned mine over and wrote my name at the top. That warm, bubbly sensation you get when you know something fresh and exciting is beginning swept through my body.

Chapter Four D-vine Intervention

IN THE MAIN HALL, AT THE END OF SCHOOL

"Why didn't you tell me in English class, you dork?" April sidestepped around a sign-up booth for the spirit club's holiday fund-raiser. "I told you he was going to ask you out!"

"It's not a date," I said with a smile.

"Who asked you out?" Jude asked, coming out of the main office right in front of April and me. His question sounded more like an accusation, and his expression looked as cloudy as the winter sky beyond the hall's windows.

"No one," I said.

"Pete Bradshaw!" April practically squealed. "He asked her on a date for tonight."

"It's not a date." I rolled my eyes at April. "He offered to help out over at the parish after practice this afternoon, and then he wants to go bowling. You're invited, too," I said to Jude. Jude jangled the parish's truck keys in his hand. I wasn't sure how he'd feel about my being interested in one of his friends--especially considering the last friend of his I'd liked. But Jude's expression brightened as he smiled. "It's about time Pete asked you out."

"See!" April pinched my arm. "I told you he likes you. Jude playfully punched April in the arm. "So are you coming this time?" April's cheeks flared red. "Uh ... no. I can't." Little splotches of crimson spread from her face to her ears. "I, uh, I, have to ..."

"Work?" I offered.

I knew from experience that no amount of coaxing was going to get her to come. April was absolutely mortified that Jude would think she was just a tagalong. Even getting her to occasionally eat lunch at the cafe with Jude and me was as difficult as taking a dog to the vet.

"Work ... Yeah, um, that." April hitched her pink Jan Sport backpack up on her shoulder. "I've gotta get going. See you later," she said, and scurried off to the main doors.

"She's ... interesting," Jude said as he watched her leave.

"Yep, that she definitely is."

"So ..." Jude looped his arm around my shoulder, leading me through a throng of sophomores toward the exit. "Tell me more about this date." "It's not a date."

AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER

"Pastor D-vine is truly an angel of the Lord," Don Mooney said in awe as he scanned the jam-packed social hall of the parish. There were boxes upon boxes of food and clothing--and Jude and I were in charge of sorting through all of them. "I hope you still need these." Don adjusted the large box of tuna cans in his arms. "1 got them from the market, and I even remembered to pay for them this time. You can call Mr. Day if you want. But if you don't need them ..."