I dump the contents of my bag on the table.
Vicky watches a candied heart roll off the surface and onto the floor. “Uh, thanks?”
“No—what? These aren’t for you,” I amend, reaching down to grab the rogue candy. “I found them in my locker, and I need your help figuring out who they’re from.”
“What are you coming to me for? I don’t even go to your school. How am I supposed to know who has a crush on you?”
“Because, well, I don’t know, exactly.” I stumble over my words. “But you’re smart. Help me figure this out.”
She just stares at me, long and hard, and then says, “You think they’re from Sara, don’t you?”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. “What? Um, I hadn’t considered that.”
A lie. A big, giant, stinkin’ lie. Vicky’s eyes narrow like she doesn’t believe me.
“Doyouthink they might be from Sara?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.
“No, but good luck finding out. I gotta get back to work.”
She’s on her feet, long hair swishing over her shoulders as she heads to the kitchen. But I can’t let her leave. Not yet.
I step in front of her, blocking her path.
“Wait! Why’d you say no like that? They could totally be from Sara, right? She likes writing poems and stuff, and she knows my favorite candyandmy locker combination. And aren’t you forgetting she used to have a crush on me?”
Vicky remains unenthused. “Listen, I don’t know who they’re from, but they’re definitely not from Sara. All she talks about is her new crush, Joe.”
My eyes widen, but I should have expected this. Before our fight, Joe was all Sara wanted to talk about.
“I even tried asking her about you and she just changed the subject,” Vicky continues. “If you really want Sara to send you love letters or something, I suggest you start working for it. Do something about it. Because, to me, it sounds like she’s quickly moving on.”
There’s this uncomfortable twitch in my gut. Moving on? It sounds so dramatic. But haven’t I seen it with my own eyes? Sara eating lunch with Joe. Walking to school with Joe.TextingJoe. Argh, she’s even in Newspaper Club with him!
It’s one thing to suspect it myself, but it’s another thing to hear this from Vicky, who arguably knows Sara best.
Three bowls arrive in the kitchen window, and the cook motions for Vicky to run them to the appropriate table. She heads that way, but not before telling me, “Let me know whenever you figure it out.”
So that’s it. Sara’s moving on. Unless I do something about it, I’m going to lose her to Joe.
And Ican’tlose.
THIRTY-ONE
Sara
“Dad! Are you kidding me?”
I’m scrambling around the kitchen like a cricket that’s accidentally been let loose indoors. I grab my blazer slung on the back of a kitchen chair, then hop two inches left and dive for my shoulder bag. Did I remember to put on deodorant? I sniff and—yes. All good. Dad just watches me from his seat at the table.
“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” I go on. “I’m gonna be late for my test!”
Dad sets his coffee down. “You’re a grown adult, Sara. You should be wakingmeup.”
I pause in the middle of tying my shoe. How does that even make any sense?
“Oh, sonowI’m a grown adult? But the other night whenIwanted—”
“You’re late!” Dad interrupts, skirting around my argument. “Hurry up!”
