COACH VELASQUEZ HOSTS AN EARLY morning Wavettes meeting on Tuesday, and as I’m leaving the dance room, I spot Breck studying pages of his chemistry book outside of the gym.

“Riveting stuff?”

He looks up, then grins. “Ah. Yeah. Not so much.”

“Hey, so, what’s with you wanting to join the decathlon?” I fold my arms. “And you better not tell me it’s to mess with Lin.”

“Why would I want to do that? I like Lin.”

He sounds genuine, but I wait for more.

“Okay, fine.” Breck groans into his hands before looking back at me. “I want to prove I can be good at something other than basketball because… I’m not sure I want to play in college.”

This wasn’t the answer I was expecting. “You don’t?”

“Nah. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll do it if I get a sick scholarship—money is important. But, you know, my brain is pretty dope.” He taps the side of his head, smiling. “And I think competing with the decathlon team could be fun.”

I study him, somewhat surprised. Breck likes partying and basketball as much as Jay, but Jay never took his grades super seriously. He was fine being average. And from what Lin told me about Breck’s GPA, he works hard. Really hard.

“I’ll talk to her.”

He closes his textbook. “You will?”

“Just don’t let her down,” I warn. “You already have basketball, but this team is important to her.”

“I won’t,” Breck says, and I can tell he’s being earnest. “I swear.”

I glance at the clock. The bell is a few minutes away from ringing. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Breck waves, and I turn down the hall and head to my locker. I need my English textbook for first period, although I wish I could skip it and consume my stress about my chemistry test in the form of glazed donuts.

“Did it work?” A voice says from behind me.

I turn around. Alex is standing there, the sleeves of his black undershirt pushed up to his elbows. The gray T-shirt he wears over it has an upside-down stegosaurus printed on it. I’m not sure what it means, but knowing Alex I can only guess it’s a film logo.

“Did what work?”

He smiles. “The excuse. From yesterday?”

“Oh.” I move out of the way so he can access his locker. “Yeah, it did, actually. Thanks.”

Alex opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. I follow his gaze down the hall. Lin sprints toward us, stopping when she sees me.

“This sucks. I stopped by the Pick Up the Park sign-up sheet and only five people have signed up so far! Five!”

Alex shuts his locker, then turns toward us. “I don’t want to tell you how to run things.” Lin looks over at him, a curious expression on her face. “But maybe next time schedule the cleanup on a Saturday? Most people have things going on after school.”

Lin’s eyes widen, like she can’t believe she didn’t think of that. “Oh! You’re so right. I need to tell Andrea.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “But you’re still coming, right?” She looks at Alex. “And you, too? I saw your name on the list, I think.”

“Yeah,” Alex tells her. “I need volunteer hours.”

“Awesome.” She turns to me. “See you at lunch!”

I watch as she practically skips down the hall. “You just made her entire morning.”

His eyes light up when he looks at me. “Did I?”

I pull a cheesy grin. “There’s a heart of gold beneath that rebellious spirit.”

Alex cringes, then yanks his beanie down over his eyes. “I can’t even look at you right now. That was awful—like a really bad movie tagline.”

I snort out a laugh. “What? You mean you wouldn’t go see it?” I pretend to think about it. “Maybe I can make a career out of this.”

Alex unveils his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but no.”

“Oh! What about this, braving true triumph is the key to her heart.”

“God, no.”

“The ultimate courage requires the ultimate sacrifice.”

“I think these are actually causing me physical pain.”

I forgot how easy it is to talk with him. If he’s still upset about my non-response to his text all those months ago, I can’t tell. I know I need to talk to him about it, but the next words out of my mouth aren’t a confrontation.

“You’re here early.”

Alex gives me a questioning look.

“I mean, Raegan says you’re usually late to homeroom.”

He studies me for a moment, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am. My mom didn’t need help in the kitchen this morning.”

“Did you tell her both me and my stomach greatly thanked her for the pan dulce?”

“Yeah, she was stoked.” He grins. “I also told her how much you loved the Pulparindo.”

“Love is a strong word, frankly. It’s a solid B-plus.”

“Your tastes just aren’t as refined as mine.”

The warning bell rings. I glance at the clock to make sure it’s right. It’s unlike me to lose track of time.

I look at him. “I better get to homeroom.”

“Me too,” he says. “You know, to surprise Raegan with my ability to be on time.”

With a quick wave, he departs down the hall. I watch him for a moment. He didn’t have to write that stuff on the board during Radical Races, but he did. There’s a part of me that’s glad for the familiar comfort of his friendship, but there’s an even bigger part of me that feels like I don’t deserve it.

“Can anyone tell me the nickname of Roosevelt’s political advisors?”

I’m sitting in AP History armed with two pens. I use the blue one every time Mr. Densick mentions something that could be on the AP exam, and my black one scribbles the notes that will be covered on our first exam. If I’d known this class would give me early onset carpal tunnel syndrome, I’d have seriously reconsidered.

I take a short break to massage my wrist, but being a leftie my elbow accidentally knocks into Jay’s. He looks up at me. Today he’s wearing a pale blue polo shirt under his letterman jacket. (Mr. Densick likes to crank up the AC so no one falls asleep. Freezing us out seems like the better option to him, apparently.) It’s a good color on him. I think I’ve told him that before. Then I wonder if he’s wearing it because I’ve told him that before.

I force those thoughts to an abrupt halt. No. I am not going there. I’m a better friend than that.

Sorry, I mouth, then point to my limp writing hand.

Jay smiles, then shrugs. He makes sure Mr. Densick is preoccupied with talking about the current slide on the board before flipping open a fresh sheet of paper in his notebook. He draws a tiny hangman game in the corner. There are twenty spaces for letters underneath it. Then he raises his eyebrows at me, hinting I should play along.

I freeze. This is the second time he’s initiated this in class. It doesn’t help that he looks immaculate today. His short brown hair is styled, like he took time this morning doing it. I tell myself not to look at his most attractive features (eyes, lips, hands) because I have to put a stop to the fluttering inside me.

At the top of the hangman Jay writes MOVIES in block letters.

Okay. This is not a big deal. I keep building it up because I want it to mean more than it should. But to Jay, it’s just a way to pass time in class. Besides, we’re friends. And I’m supposed to be in the process of reconnecting our friendship, according to step 6 on my list.

I shift my spiral over an inch so he can read. A? I guess.

Jay fills two A’s in the blank spaces.

“Who can tell me,” Mr. Densick is saying, “What the very first agreement for self-government in America was called? We went over this yesterday.”

“Mayflower Compact,” Jay calls out.

“Thank you Mr. Valenski, but next time please raise your hand.” Mr. Densick writes Mayflower Compact in huge letters on the board. “I would highly advise you to familiarize yourself with this.”

I go back through my notes and put a star next to where I’ve written about the Mayflower Compact. I flip back over to my page and guess: T?

Jay grins. There are three T’s.

His movie ends up being The Fast and the Furious, which I guess near the end, but I stump him with Shrek. We play back and forth for the rest of class, stopping occasionally to scribble important information from Mr. Densick’s slides.

With ten minutes of class left, Jay draws up another hangman board. On the top he writes NAMES.

I guess O, I, E, T, S, D, and A before I finally lose. Right before the bell rings, Jay fills the rest of the blanks in for me: Kira Kay.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until Jay looks at me. I try not to read into it, but how can I not? That was his old nickname for me. The nickname he gave me when we were going out. But we are not going out anymore. So why would he write that?

The bell rings. It seems to jolt Jay from his thoughts, and he slams his notebook shut with more force than necessary. He doesn’t look my way once as he gathers up his things and leaves the classroom.

I run into Whitney as I’m walking to my car after Wavettes practice.

“Oh!” she says, after nearly colliding with me as she cuts through a row of cars. I’d gone to the locker room to change into my purple boatneck top and jeans, but she’s still wearing her red Wavettes tank top and black dance pants. I thought she’d left by now, but maybe she stayed after to talk to Jay. “Um. Sorry.”

It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since making posters at Raegan’s house. She looks distracted, like she’d rather be anywhere else. I think back to my twelve steps. I know I have to try to make amends for the both of us, and I know it won’t be easy. She’s made that much perfectly clear. But I have to keep trying for the sake of our friendship.

“Hey, so,” I start. “I was thinking, do you maybe want to hit up the mall before Breck’s thing on Saturday?”

Cedarville’s mall is nothing spectacular, but when we were in middle school we spent way too much time there. We’d split an overpriced cone from Häagen-Dazs and spend the rest of the time wandering in and out of stores only to end up watching guys from the high school at the indoor skate park.

“My mom’s making me go to my grandpa’s birthday brunch,” she says.

Disappointment drapes over me. “Oh, well—”

She looks toward her car. “I should get home.”

“Okay.” I give her a small wave as she begins to head in that direction. “See you.”

Just like that, I am dismissed. It hurts more than I want it to.

I’d told Lin what happened in Raegan’s kitchen on Saturday, and she’d told me to give her time. But a part of me was angry. I know I’d been unresponsive, but she wasn’t exactly Miss Communicative when she started dating Jay.

I’m walking to my car when I pass Alex’s beat-up Chevy. My insides twist with guilt. Alex has three more detentions to complete for what he wrote on the board. If I hadn’t choked during Radical Races, he probably wouldn’t have done it.

I stare at his dented bumper. The green paint is fading from sun damage, and the door to the bed of the truck is completely missing. It’s easy to tell that this car has been loved for a long time. He’s not even embarrassed by it. I watched him pull into the parking lot yesterday morning with the windows rolled down.

With nothing but homework to do, I jump into my car and drive to 7-Eleven. I’m in the mood for a Slurpee, and since the summer days are dwindling down to fall, I decide to take advantage of it one more time.

I walk to the back and pour myself a cherry slush. As I make my way toward the register, I pause at the candy aisle. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I pick up a pack of my favorite candy, Starburst, the tropical kind. I used to carry a handful in my backpack in eighth grade, and Alex and I would use the discarded wrappers to write notes to each other during class. He even taught me how to make a bracelet out of the wrappers, learned courtesy of Marlina’s crafty side. His was red and mine was yellow.

I pay for my sugary loot and head out the door.

When I’m back in the car, I make a right instead of a left and drive back to the school parking lot. Alex’s car is still there. Good. I pull into the empty space beside him and fumble for a Sharpie in my book bag. On the candy packaging I write, From my refined taste buds, to yours.

I hop out of my car and slide the stick of Starburst under his windshield wiper. I don’t leave my signature. I have a feeling he’ll know who they’re from.