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Should the death penalty be outlawed? —behind a lectern with her charming grin and rapid wit, being tossed question after question. But on paper her ideas have no flow or organization, and her jokey asides undermine her credibility. She seems to have foregone heavy research, used to the force of her personality carrying her point. I close the lid and drum my fingers on the top, trying to think of how to approach this with her. In a way I’m relieved. She’s not dumb. She’s definitely not dumb. But now I have to convince her to learn a new way of thinking to write a persuasive essay.
    I read through the other two essays, and they suffer the same problems. I’m about to e-mail her back when a piece of chocolate cake with fudge frosting is waved under my nose.
    â€œCome back to earth, star child,” Amber says with a grin, which is the nickname of Mark Sizler’s love interest in the movie. “You’re just in time for the big concert song where he woos her back.”
    I set aside the laptop and take the plate and fork she offers. The cake is painfully good. And the concert scene in the movie is kinda fun. It’s a big number in which Mark Sizler allegedly did the singing himself. I watch Mark drop to his knees as he wails through his power ballad, face screwed up with emotion. A series of fireworks go off behind him during the last, long note. Amber rewinds the scene to watch it again, and Mrs. Ederlee starts to sing along quietly.
    I collect everyone’s empty plates and set them in the sink. When I return, I go back to my open reply to Scarlett.
    Â 
    Hello, Scarlett,
    I reviewed your essays and I see where the problem spots are. I can meet tomorrow at lunch or immediately after school. To be honest, I would prefer after school because I tend to use my lunch breaks for homework. We can meet in the study room of the library at 2:30, if you are amendable.
    Thank you,
    Audrey
    It isn’t ten minutes after I hit Send that I get back:
    Â 
    Sounds good. See you soon.
    S

C HAPTER F OUR
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    A MBER DRIVES me home on days I go to her house after school. My family has two old vehicles, used primarily by my dad and Jimmy for work. My dad works security in a massive building on the outside of town, and Jimmy’s pet store is too far away for walking, especially in bad weather. My dad taught me to drive on the old Toyota, and I got my driver’s license with flying colors, but I rarely have the opportunity to use it.
    When she drops me off, I notice the house at the end of the road, where it dead ends, is lit up for the first time in a year. I look at it while I wave at Amber. Her headlights illuminate me, and then the road, as she backs out of the driveway and drives away.
    I start walking toward the house, curious about my new neighbor. Deep bass music pulses from the interior of the place rented out by three young twenty-somethings two doors down from our place. It fades behind me as I approach the last house. Just as I do, the door swings open and a man emerges with a black trash bag. He freezes when he sees me walking up. I open my mouth to greet him, but before I can, he backs inside and slams the door shut, trash and all. A second later the lights go out.
    I’m startled by this reaction but not astonished. Like I said, this isn’t the greatest neighborhood, and in the dark he couldn’t see that I was basically a harmless kid. I shrug and go home.
    The next day seems to creep by. My meeting with Scarlett is never far from my mind, making the hours seem to drag. I’m starting to really regret what now seems like an impulsive decision. What if this is all just a cruel prank to humiliate me in front of her group of friends? I’m not sure exactly how, but visions of the prom scene in Carrie keep popping up in my head. At the same time, I have a hard time visualizing Scarlett anywhere in that scenario. A jerk, yeah, but she’s never struck me as