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“About swing choir being the gayest club in school?”
    â€œAs if I care what he says,” she said. “I do what I want. I just think it might be too much for my schedule. You know how busy I am. It’s a good thing I didn’t join the cheerleading squad.”
    The truth is, she didn’t make the cheerleading squad.
    I took a big swig of soda and decided to change the subject. The less we talked about Jake Bevans and his friends, the better.
    â€œWhat do you guys think about the field trip?” I asked. I was looking at Gretchen, but Alyssa answered.
    â€œGreat!” she said. “I already have ideas on what I’m gonna wear. Then again, I might get my mom to buy something new. We have, like, an eternity before we even leave.” Suddenly her face lit up. Another announcement. “Speaking of new outfits, guess what else I found out today?”
    We looked at her, waiting.
    â€œWe get to wear Halloween costumes to the fall dance this year,” she said. “It’s going to be a-may-zing . We need to discuss costume concepts.”
    Gretchen shoved a handful of Skittles into her mouth. “I was gonna be a zombie bride for Halloween.”
    â€œDon’t you think we’re too old for that sort of thing?” said Alyssa.
    I turned to Gretchen. “I like the zombie bride idea.”
    â€œThanks,” she said. “What about you, Apple? What’s your costume concept?”
    â€œApple isn’t going to the dance,” said Alyssa, before I could answer. She turned to me with wide eyes. “Are you?”
    â€œI don’t know. I was thinking about it,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
    â€œLast year you said dances were lame.”
    I didn’t tell Alyssa that the reason I’d said that was because they both got brand-new outfits and I knew my mom would never get me one, which meant I’d have to wear something they’d already seen at school. But a Halloween party was another story—I could make my own costume.
    â€œSo are you saying you changed your mind?” said Alyssa.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “It depends.”
    â€œWell, I know I’m going for sure. And I have a feeling Jake will ask me.”
    â€œI’ll probably go with Lance.” Gretchen crumpled up her empty Skittles bag and put it in her pocket. She liked to put her junk-food trash in her pockets instead of walking ten feet to the trash can. One of her IFs.
    â€œWhy do we need dates?” I asked. “Nobody brought dates last year.”
    Alyssa sighed as if I were the dumbest person on Earth. “Things are different this year. Everyone’s gonna have a date. Well, except maybe Big-leena.” She snickered.
    I scanned the lunch crowd for date possibilities of my own, but I saw only the same faces I’d seen since elementary school, and none of them would want to go with a girl on the Dog Log. Who could blame them? I saw the neon sign again—DOG LOG, DOG LOG, DOG LOG—and felt the corners of my eyes moisten, so I blinked and blinked and then pretended I had an eyelash caught in my eye. When I finally looked up, I saw an unfamiliar head of messy brown hair by the vending machines. It wasa boy I’d never seen before. Even though he was standing in the crowd, he wasn’t part of it. He was leaning against the wall, reading a book.
    â€œWho’s that?” I asked, pointing.
    â€œI have no idea,” said Alyssa. She squinted at him. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a new student.”
    â€œMe neither,” Gretchen and I said at the same time.
    â€œWhat’s he doing?” asked Gretchen. “Is he reading a book by the vending machines?”
    Not many kids read books during lunch, but there he was. He looked really into it too. I wondered what the book was about.
    â€œIt’s probably because he doesn’t have anyone to talk to,” Alyssa