Emily and I meet at the cafeteria for supper. She’s elbow deep in ribs. We only get them on Fridays. She texted me earlier to say her weekend with Brad is called off and she’s not happy about it. Up until now, she refused to tell me what happened over texts.

I stab some lettuce and put it in my mouth.

Emily moans and takes another bite of her ribs. I finish swallowing and put down my fork. “Please tell me what happened. How can I help if you won’t talk to me?”

She pouts a moment before speaking. “His sister promised to let him borrow her car, but she switched shifts with someone else so she’s going to be home this weekend and needs it now.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

She frowns at me. “Isn’t that enough? You know how much I love Thin Thieves.”

“Yeah, almost as much as I love Wonder Woman.”

She sighs. “I paid two hundred and eight dollars for those tickets. Now they’ll have to go in my scrapbook, never to be used.”

“Why don’t you take my car?” I say.

Her rounded shoulders straighten and her neck elongates as she sits up tall. “Really?”

“Of course. I can’t believe you didn’t ask me.”

“Honestly, we never use your car. Sometimes I forget you brought it to school.”

“I used it the other day to go to Blandford.”

She looks left as she purses her lips. “I didn’t put two and two together. Are you sure?” She reaches out to place her hand on top of mine, and I turn mine over and hold hers, squeezing it once before letting go.

“It’s yours. Just don’t leave it somewhere where it will get towed. And don’t leave garbage in it.”

“I would never.” She manages to look offended.

I frown at her. I lent her my car in twelfth grade to go visit some college guy she was dating. Her parents were away, but they wrote down the mileage on the car before they left and told her she wasn’t allowed to use it on penalty of never getting permission to use it again. When Emily brought it back to me, she left McDonald’s wrappers all over the floor and soda cups in the cup holders, one of which leaked. I cleaned it, of course. But I remind her about the mess she left every time we use my car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Emily asks. “I’m sure we could get you a ticket from a scalper.”

“Umm…nope, I’m good.”

“What are you going to do?” She waggles her eyebrows. “Or should I say who…?”

I roll my eyes and check my watch—completely ignoring her question. “What time is the concert?”

“Nine. Shit! I should call him and let him know we’re back on.” She pulls out her phone from the back pocket of her skinny jeans and dials his number. After she tells him the news, she hangs up quickly. “He’s coming to get me in a half hour. We gotta go. Last chance to come?”

“No. Go. Have fun.”

“I’ll feel better if I know you won’t be holed up in our room studying. Please tell me that you’re finally going out on a Friday night with Mr. Sexy.”

I grin at her. “He asked me to meet him after practice. Speaking of which, he already had practice this morning. How much do they train?” That gives me a great idea for a story, one I could actually use without hurting Ozzie. The life of a varsity athlete: training without sacrificing grades.

She shrugs. “Brad trains six days a week, never twice in one day unless they’ve pissed off their coach.”

“I went to their practice last night, and I’m not entirely certain because their coach seems like an angry guy anyway, but I think he might have been pissed with them.”

“That’ll do it, and Coach Handler has a reputation for being exceptionally tough.” Emily drops her ribs and wipes her hands clean with a wet wipe from a paper packet.

She has to leave, and to help, I pick up my garbage and hers and put it all on one tray. I unload it in the garbage bin while she continues wiping her hands. As we stroll by on the way back to our room, she tosses it in the trash.

In our room, Emily tries on a half-dozen outfits until she decides on a tight dress and a jean jacket. The carnage of her unsuccessful outfits litters the floor on her side of the room, with a few pieces reaching into mine. As she sits on the bed and shoves her feet into black, heeled boots, I pick up the clothes and start hanging them back up.

She rolls her eyes at me affectionately. “Thanks, friend.”

“You’re welcome, asshole.”

She laughs. “Friend gets a new boyfriend and develops an attitude. I’m not sure I like this.”

I shake my head. “You know I’m teasing.”

“I know. I’ll still bring you back a souvenir.”

The door rattles on its hinges with a heavy knock. Emily squeals and grabs her overnight bag before answering it. She opens the door, and Brad gives her a long kiss that doesn’t end until I finally clear my throat.

“Charlie,” he says with a nod.

“Hey, Brad.”

“Thanks for the car. You made my girl really happy.”

I shrug. “No problem. Any time.” I hang up the last of her tops and head to the desk. I sit down with one leg tucked up under my bum.

“We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Try not to miss me,” Emily says.

“I’ll try my hardest.”

She skips over and gives me a wet kiss on my forehead with her ruby-stained lips. “Have a good night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Which pretty much leaves anything on the table,” Brad says with a wink.

I really don’t need to have mental images of my friend getting it on with Brad.

I wave goodbye, and the door slams shut, rattling the few photos on my desk. I grab my backpack, pull out my pencil case and books, and search around for my day-timer. I open my bag wide and peek inside once it’s empty. It’s missing. How is it missing? I wanted to add notes about my new story idea. My whole life was inside that book, including all my notes on Ozzie and information about his family. Sometimes I scribble diary-like entries in it, and learning about his family affected me. I needed to write it down and work through my feelings.

I search the floor. Did it fall out? I get on my hands and knees and look under the desk and under the beds. It has to be here somewhere. Thirty minutes later, my mattress is on its side, my sheets are in a pile in the corner, my clothes from earlier today are on the floor, as well as my last two days of laundry. My books are strewn on the desk. My heart is beating out of my chest.

My day-timer is nowhere. I retrace my steps, and the last time I remember seeing it was in English. I slap my head to my palm and recall how quickly I gathered my stuff and left class. It must be there still. I don’t remember putting it in my bag…but I do remember Piper sitting in my seat smiling like she had a secret. A big one.

I slump down along the wall to the floor. It hits me only now. Piper took it. She had to have stolen it. And if she took it, that means she’ll share it with Sam. She’ll know my inner thoughts and learn some of Ozzie’s secrets. And she’ll know I was writing a story on him.

Without him knowing about it.

I spring to my feet and throw open my door. In my sock feet, I try to run down the hall but slide more than I run. I get to the end of my hall, turn, and slide down the rest of that hallway, all the way down to the stairwell exit door. Piper’s room is beside it.

I rap on the door and don’t let up until she opens it. My heart pounds in my chest, and it’s hard to catch my breath. She stands in the doorjamb and stares at me before folding her arms across her chest. “Can I help you with something?”

“My planner! Did you take it?”

Her lips are set in a firm line. Second by second, the tightness relaxes as her lips twitch up at the corners. “What planner?”

“Please. Don’t mess with me. It’s mine, and I need it.”

She takes a deep breath, and her expression changes to mock sadness. “If I had it, I would give it to you.”

I exhale slowly. “So, you don’t have it?”

She shakes her head, her smile returning.

Her words replay in my head—word for word. She doesn’t have it right now, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have it earlier. “Okay...did you have it?”

She tips her head to the side. “I’m busy. There’s a party tonight at Ozzie’s place. At ten…after practice. You should come. It’ll be a good time.”

“Piper, no. Please don’t do this.”

“Please don’t do this? Sam asked you nicely, and she wasn’t a bitch about it. Girl code. You don’t date your friend’s exes.”

“Sam and I aren’t really friends.”

She laughs without humor. “Then she owes you nothing. Have a nice night, Charlie.” Piper attempts to close her door in my face, but I jut out my hand and foot and try to force her to stop and keep talking to me. She’s stronger than me, though, and I end up losing the tug of war. The door slams in my face, and I’m left on the other side, struggling to catch my breath.

I finally find a guy who cares about me perhaps as much as I care for him, and I’ve managed to wreck my relationship with him in under a week. Why couldn’t I tell him the truth? Why didn’t I have the courage? What sucks even more is that when he finds out from Sam, he’ll never believe me when I tell him I decided not to write the story. He’ll think I'm lying. And I won’t blame him. He’ll never trust a word I say from this point forward.

The only hope I have is to get to him first, and that’s not much hope at all.