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as he put the tray down. “You get one of the good ones.”
    “I’d hate to see one of the bad ones,” Claire muttered.
    Mr. Webb explained that the first assignment was to find the frog’s brain. He pinched his fingers together so there was about half a centimeter of space between them. “It’s about that big, so you might have to do a little digging.”
    For the first five minutes, Claire and Jim poked and prodded at the frog with the scalpels—in complete silence. Jim studied the frog carefully, shooting covert glances at Claire, trying to think of something to say. Suddenly, he felt like he had to be entertaining with everything he said or he might as well not say anything. What if she found out that he was boring? Last night on the water tower already felt like a dream. He could picture the moment like a painting, the two of them sitting there watching the sunset and looking at his mural. The One and Only Time Jim Blest Talked to a Girl Successfully , by the artist known as Fate. Or maybe he would draw it himself.
    He made a face and poked cautiously at the frog. There was a juicy sucking noise as its belly burst open. Purple guts spilled out.
    Claire wrinkled her nose. “This is exactly the way I want to spend my last day of being fifteen. Digging into frogs.”
    Jim looked up at her, his scalpel halfway in the frog’s stomach. “It’s your birthday tomorrow?”
    “Yeah, Gunner and I are turning sixteen. We’ll finally be able to drive, not that Gunner has been stopped by that little legal hurdle before. My mom gave him a Range Rover and he drove it this morning already. That’s why we weren’t on the bus.”
    “Oh.” Jim took a breath. Gunner had gotten a Range Rover for his birthday? Jim would be lucky if his dad even remembered. “It’s actually my birthday tomorrow, too.” He always tried to forget about his birthday because it was always a disappointment. He couldn’t decide which was worse, when his dad forgot completely, like two years ago, or when he remembered and got too drunk, then cried about Jim’s mom, the memory of her death rising fresh in his mind. Jim’s throat tightened.
    “What are you doing for it?” Claire asked eagerly. “Aren’t you excited?”
    “Uh . . . well . . .”
    She seemed to see something in his face. “If you want, we can combine our parties. Gunner and I are doing ours today, since our mom will be out of the house.”
    The whole crowd of Shane’s friends shuffled through Jim’s head. Ben, Shane’s even more muscular bodyguard. Julia, who could insult people faster than anyone else in school. Maria, Shane’s girlfriend, with her sharp eyes that never missed an opportunity to make someone feel shitty. Erik, who thought he was slick and everyone else was beneath him. But then Jim looked at Claire, and heard himself saying, “That sounds fun.”
    “Great, just meet me out in the parking lot after school and we’ll head to my place.” Claire seemed genuinely excited, but part of Jim still wondered if this was some elaborate trap.
    She turned back to the frog, jabbing at the mess of organs with her scalpel. “You know,” she said, her voice strained as she twisted the scalpel deeper. “You gotta wonder what this means. You’ve got all the fairy tales talking about how kissing frogs turns them into princes.” Claire’s scalpel tore through something else and a little tiny black organ popped out. “What happens when you dissect one?”
    “Frog zombies?” Jim asked. He wondered if there was anything less romantic you could do with a person than cut open a frog.
    “I think we did it!” Claire proclaimed triumphantly, giving the organ an experimental prod. She raised her hand. “Mr. Webb! We found the brain!”
    Mr. Webb, who had been patrolling the room with his hands clasped behind his back, hurried over to their table. His mustache twitched again as he looked down at the black thing Claire had unearthed. Alone and removed from the frog, it