But then Mrs. Gardner drops a yellow slip of paper on my desk. Lillia Cho is written on the first line. Then it says Report to guidance office. There’s a line for the time I’m supposed to be there. It says Now.

Inside me, everything tightens up. Today is Reeve’s first day back. Could he have said something to someone?

I push my hair over my shoulder and pack up my stuff. Alex looks at me on my way out the door. I smile and shrug my shoulders, carefree, like, Weird. What could this be about?

I take a deep breath and walk quickly down the hall. If I were in trouble, if someone figured out what I did to Reeve at the dance, I’d be sent to the principal’s office. Not to guidance.

Mr. Randolph has been my guidance counselor since freshman year. He’s not old. His college graduation diploma is dated ten years ago. I checked on that once. I bet he was cute, back then, but he’s started to lose his hair, which is unfortunate. His parents own the stables where we board my horse, Phantom. There are equestrian plaques and medals all over the place, from when he used to compete.

I wait for a second in his doorway. He’s on the phone, but he waves me inside.

I sit down and rehearse in my head what I’ll say, in case he does confront me. I’ll scrunch up my face and go with something like, Excuse me, Mr. Randolph? Why would I ever, ever do something like that? Reeve is one of my closest friends. This is, like, beyond ridiculous. I don’t even know what to say. Then I’ll fold my arms and stop talking until I get a lawyer.

Mr. Randolph makes an annoyed face and rubs his balding head. I wonder if that’s why he’s balding prematurely, because he’s so stressed and he rubs his head all day. “Yeah, okay, yeah, okay. Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and lets out a deep breath. “Why so nervous, Lillia?”

I force myself to smile. “Hi, Mr. Randolph.”

“I haven’t seen you at the barn much lately. You aren’t thinking of selling that horse, are you?”

“No! I’d never sell Phantom!”

Mr. Randolph laughs. “I know, I know. But if you ever change your mind, you know who to call first, right?”

I smile, but there is no way. I’d never make that phone call. I’d never, ever sell Phantom. “Right.”

“So . . . I was going over your transcripts. They look really good, Lillia. Really good. You might even have a shot at salutatorian.”

Relief washes over me. “Wow. That’s amazing. My dad will be happy.”

Mr. Randolph opens up a file with my name on it. I’m wondering if he’s going to tell me my class rank, but then he says, “However, I did notice that you still haven’t taken the swim test.”

“Oh.” Ever since Jar Island had the indoor pool built, it’s mandatory that all students pass a swim test. It’s part of graduation requirements.

“Unless that’s a clerical error?”

I wriggle back in my seat. “No. I haven’t taken it.”

He rocks his head from side to side. “All right. Well, you do understand that passing the swim test is required for graduation.”

“Unless I get a doctor’s note, right?”

He looks surprised. Surprised and disappointed. “Correct. Unless you get a note.” He closes the file. “But don’t you want to learn to swim, Lillia?”

“I know how to not drown, Mr. Randolph,” I assure him. “But actual swimming is just not my thing.”

He gives me a look like I’m being ridiculous. “It’s a good life skill, Lillia, especially for a girl who lives on an island. It could save your life one day. Or someone else’s. Promise you’ll think about it.”

I will think about it. I’ll think about how to ask my dad to write me a note. If he won’t, I’m sure I could get Kat to do it on his stationery.

As I walk back to class, someone’s stapling paper pumpkins on the big bulletin board, framing the October calendar. It’s only been a little more than a month since Kat, Mary, and I met down by the docks, which seems crazy. It sure feels like we’ve been friends for longer than that.

We’re all at the lunch table, and people keep coming over, trying to sign Reeve’s cast. The Reeve I know would have lapped up the attention; he would have loved every second. But not this guy. This guy couldn’t care less. All he wants to do is talk about his physical therapy plan with Rennie. They’re huddled together on the other side of the table, his cast up in her lap.

“While I have the hard cast on, I’m focusing exclusively on my upper body. Chest, biceps, triceps, back, core. Bulk up from the waist up. Then three, maybe four weeks and I’m in the soft cast. Boom. Hydrotherapy.”

I’m mesmerized as I watch him tear through two steamed chicken br**sts and a huge ziplock bag of cut-up carrots and spinach. He’s inhaling food like he’s a vacuum.

“I ordered you a buoyancy belt last night,” Rennie says. “It should be here by the end of the week.”

Alex keeps leaning over and trying to convince Reeve to come to the football game on Friday, but of course selfish Reeve isn’t having it. Alex says, “Come on, Reeve. You know it would be huge for morale. The guys are scared shitless about Lee Freddington quarterbacking for us again.”

“That’s ’cause Freddington can’t throw for shit,” Derek says, his mouth full of pizza.

It’s true. Our game last weekend, the first without Reeve, was a complete disaster. We lost big-time to a team that’s second to last in our division.

PJ pipes up, “We miss you, man. And, I don’t know, maybe you could give Freddington some tips or whatever.”

“Yeah,” says Alex. “You don’t have to suit up or anything. Just be on the sidelines. I really think it’d make a big difference.”

Reeve gulps down his Muscle Milk. Wiping his mouth, he says, “You guys are on your own now. I can’t carry you anymore. I’ve gotta worry about myself. If I don’t get my shit straight, I don’t play next fall.”

“You’re still a captain of this team,” Alex reminds him.

“I have to focus on my recovery,” Reeve says. “I’m in bed by nine and up by five thirty to work out. You think I have time to go to a football game?”

“Just think about it,” Alex says. “You don’t have to decide today. See how you’re feeling on Friday night.” It gives me a stomachache to see Alex be so patient with Reeve’s temper tantrum. If I were him, I’d tell Reeve to forget it.

Shaking his head regretfully, Derek says, “Damn, man. I can’t believe this happened to you. I was looking forward to watching you throw TDs on ESPN next fall.”

Reeve jams a forkful of salad into his mouth. Chewing forcefully, he says, “You’re still gonna see me on ESPN. Don’t count me out.”

“Yeah, Derek,” Rennie says, glaring at him. She points at Reeve. “From here on out, this is a no-negativity zone. Only positive thinking allowed.”

Reeve heaves himself out of his seat and up onto his crutches.

“Where are you going?” Rennie asks him.

“Bathroom.”

He lurches off toward the men’s room, and Rennie watches him like a hawk, ready to spring into action if he needs her. When he’s gone, she looks around to make sure no one else is listening, and then she says to Ash, “He’s being so strong. He practically cried in my arms the other night when he heard Alabama was out. That was one of his safety schools! And there he was, begging the coaches to redshirt him for the first season.” She closes her eyes and rubs her temples. “But his injury is too much of a risk. They don’t think he’ll ever get back to where he was. I can’t wait until he proves those idiots wrong.” Rennie takes a sip of her soda. “Sure, he might not end up at a D-one school after this is all over, but any division two or three school would be lucky to have him.”

“Did you spend the night over at his house again?” Ash whispers.

Again? They’re doing sleepovers now? I fully believe that Paige would let Rennie sleep over at a guy’s house, but Reeve’s parents have always seemed pretty traditional to me.

Running her hands through her hair, Rennie says, “I’m basically the only thing keeping him going right now.”

“Did you guys finally DTR?” Ash asks her.

“What does DTR mean?” I wonder aloud.

“Define the relationship,” Rennie says, rolling her eyes like I am a moron for not knowing. But she doesn’t look at me. “And no, we didn’t. Not yet. He has too much on his mind right now. I just want to be there for him. That’s all he needs.” Rennie stands up and gathers her things. “I’m going to go look for him.” She leans down and gives Ashlin a peck on the cheek. “Bye, Ash. Bye, Peej, bye, Derek.”

Without even a glance in my direction, she takes off. No one notices that Rennie said good-bye to everyone but me.

It’s been like this since homecoming, and every day it gets a little worse. I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Rennie’s mad at me. Like, really mad. I hate that it affects me this much, but it does. I want things to go back to normal, where nobody’s in a fight with anybody.

As soon as she’s out the door, I say to Ash, “Has Rennie said anything to you? About me?”

Ashlin shifts in her seat, avoiding my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been acting like a total bitch to me ever since homecoming. Is it because I got queen and she didn’t?” I bite my bottom lip. “I’ll give her my tiara if she wants it that badly.”

Ash finally looks up at me. “Lil, it’s not because of that. It’s because you kissed Reeve on stage at the dance.”

My mouth drops. “I didn’t kiss him! He kissed me!”

“But you let him. In front of everybody.”

I feel like I’m going to cry. “Ash, I didn’t want him to! He basically forced me. You know I don’t even like him. And . . . why is she mad at me and not Reeve?”

Ash gives me a sympathetic shrug. “You know how she feels about him. He’s her first love. He’s her Reevie. She’d forgive him for anything.”

“But it’s not fair,” I whisper.

“Tell her you’re sorry,” Ashlin says. “Tell her you’d never think of Reeve like that.”

I frown and rock back in my seat. Maybe that would make it better, but I kind of don’t think so. “That’s the thing,” I say. “I shouldn’t have to.”

CHAPTER THREE

It’s the end of the week, thank goodness, and I’m on my way out of school, totally and completely exhausted from playing catch-up with all my classes. When I hear Kat scream from the parking lot. It’s a playful scream, not a scared one or anything. I glance around and spot her a few feet away, cigarette clenched between her teeth, trying to pull a flannel shirt off some guy.

I recognize the guy, sort of. I don’t know his name, but I always see him wandering aimlessly around the school grounds. I don’t think he has any classes. Or if he does, his teachers must be pretty liberal with their attendance sheets.

Kat could be on the Jar Island wrestling team, she’s so light on her feet. She keeps moving, bouncing on her toes, twisting left and right as she works the back of the flannel up over the boy’s head. I bet her brother, Pat, taught her how to do that.

The guy is unsteady, and also it seems like he doesn’t exactly know how to fight back against a girl. Kat definitely takes advantage of it. She stays aggressive, tugging and pulling until she has most of the flannel free, distracting him by poking him in the ribs or pulling out the rubber band that’s holding back his shoulder-length hair. It doesn’t take long before all he’s left clinging to is one tiny bit of sleeve.

Kat plants her feet like she’s preparing for a serious game of tugof-war. She warns him, “It’s gonna rip if you don’t let go, Dan.”

“All right, all right,” the guy—Dan, I guess—finally concedes.

Kat lets out a howl of victory and does a spin, whipping the flannel around over her head like a lasso. “This is a teachable moment, Dan. When I want something, I take it. Boom. End of story.” Dan’s face turns bright pink. I bust up laughing because she’s so crazy.

Kat must hear me, because immediately she looks over to where I’m standing. She nudges her chin my way the slightest bit. I smile back, quick, and am about to climb on my bike and ride away, when Kat does something surprising.

She holds up a finger, like I should wait up for her.

It happens so fast I wonder if maybe I imagined it. We haven’t really ever done this before. Acknowledge each other in public, out in the open. I guess we can now, since our whole revenge plan is over. But I take out the book I need to read for English class and flip through it, so I don’t look obvious. I watch as she grinds out her cigarette.

“Come on, Kat. Give it back.”

Kat puts it on over her sweatshirt. “But I want to wear it. I promise to bring it back on Monday. And then it will smell like me.”

He pretends to be annoyed, but I can tell he likes her by the way he gives in so quick. “You want a ride home?”

“Nah. I’m gonna walk. But can I bum one more smoke?” She doesn’t wait for him to give her a cigarette. She takes it and tucks it behind her ear.

Then she heads over toward the bike path.

I put my book away and start walking slow, pushing my bike along, waiting for her to catch up. We probably should still be careful.

“You hanging in there, Mary?” she asks when she gets close.