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shuffled through herneatly stacked books as if her pink studded bag could be flattened between them.
    One of Gretchen’s IFs: She loses her purse about once a week. Sometimes she finds it right away. Other times she has to retrace her steps until she discovers it in the girls’ bathroom or under the bleachers in the gym. I groaned.
    Gretchen found her purse, but just before she closed her locker again, Heleena tapped Alyssa’s shoulder. Tap-tap-tap. Alyssa’s ponytail whipped around. I smelled coconut.
    â€œYes?” said Alyssa. Smooth like butter.
    Heleena had a tiny voice. She’s had the same tiny voice since second grade. It was the only tiny thing about her.
    â€œCan I get to my locker, please?” she asked.
    Alyssa blocked Heleena’s locker 80 percent of the time. At first I didn’t think it was on purpose, but now I’m not so sure.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry.” Alyssa put her hand to her chest.“I would have moved, but I didn’t see you coming.”
    Alyssa shifted to the side to get out of Heleena’s way, but she didn’t move far enough. She never did. Heleena had to say excuse me two more times.
    â€œSorry again for getting in your way,” said Alyssa as we headed down the hall. “Blame Gretchen. She takes forever.” She rolled her eyes in a big display that said, You know how best friends can be.
    Heleena turned the dial on her locker without saying anything.
    â€œI always try to be nice to her, because I know she doesn’t have any friends, but god, could she be more disgusting?” said Alyssa, under her breath. “She needs some serious help. That’s not even healthy . I heard she even has lunch in the library, because no one can stand to watch her eat. Or maybe it’s just because she has no friends.” Alyssa turned to me. “You may be on the list , Apple, but it could be worse. At least you aren’t Big-leena Moffett.” She paused. “Unless . . .”
    â€œUnless what?” I said. The socked-gut feeling wasstill there. I wouldn’t have been surprised to lift up my shirt and see a big bruise.
    â€œUnless you’re above Heleena on the list,” said Alyssa. She frowned.
    Gretchen rolled her eyes. “That’s not possible.” She looked at me and said again: “That’s not possible, Apple. And the list is stupid anyway. Who cares?”
    But we all knew that everyone cared.
    â€œI’ve got to find out what number you are,” said Alyssa. She smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. “For your sake. Wouldn’t you like to know? I mean, if you’re, like, eighth, that’s not so bad, is it? That’s still almost okay.”
    â€œStill almost okay for what?” I asked.
    But she didn’t answer.

5
Hello, Good-bye
2FS4N: “Hello, Goodbye”

    G retchen, Alyssa, and I settled in our usual spots under the giant oak tree for lunch and waited for a “big announcement” from Alyssa. She loved to make big announcements. It was one of her IFs. She made one almost every day.
    She inhaled sharply, like she was about to tell us that she had terminal cancer.
    â€œI don’t think I’m going to try out for swingchoir tomorrow,” she said.
    Gretchen gasped—her usual reaction. I opened my bag of chips.
    â€œYou have to!” said Gretchen. “Who will I hang out with? Besides, you’re the best one.”
    Alyssa nodded as if to say, I know, I know. “I’m just not sure I can do everything.” She opened her bag of Funyuns. “I’m doing community theater in the spring, and I’ve got dance class once a week.”
    â€œYou have to, Alyssa,” Gretchen said. “You have to.”
    Alyssa nodded again. I know, I know. “I’ll think about it. I’ll decide by tomorrow.”
    â€œDoes this have anything to do with what Jake said?” I asked, popping the top on my soda.