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offended I called her fat? Because it’s true. What is it with you? I feel like everything I say has to be censored. First your dad, now this. What happened to freedom of speech?”
    For a split moment I thought it would be nice and convenient if I still had the Spider. Not only would I not be stranded without a ride, but I might get the pleasure of plowing Marcie over. The school parking lot was chaotic after school. Accidents happened.
    Since I couldn’t bounce Marcie off my front fender, I did the next best thing. “If my dad owned the Toyota dealership, I think I’d be environmentally minded enough to ask for a hybrid.”
    “Well, your dad doesn’t own the Toyota dealership.”
    “That’s right. My dad’s dead.”
    She raised one shoulder. “You said it, not me.”
    “From now on, I think it’s better if we stay out of each other’s way.”
    She examined her manicure. “Fine.”
    “Good.”
    “Just trying to be nice, and look where it got me,” she said under her breath.
    “Nice? You called Vee fat.”
    “I also offered you a ride.” She floored the gas, her tires spitting up road dust that wafted in my direction.
    I hadn’t woken up this morning looking for another reason to hate Marcie Millar, but there you go.
    Coldwater High had been erected in the late nineteenth century, and the construction was an eclectic mix of Gothic and Victorian that looked more cathedral than academic. The windows were narrow and arched, the glass leaded. The stone was multicolored, but mostly gray. In the summer, ivy crawled up the exterior and gave the school a certain New England charm. In the winter, the ivy resembled long skeletal fingers choking the building.
    I was half speed-walking, half jogging down the hall to chemistry when my cell phone rang in my pocket.
    “Mom?” I answered, not slowing my pace. “Can I call you ba—”
    “You’ll never guess who I ran into last night! Lynn Parnell. You remember the Parnells. Scott’s mom.”
    I peeked at the clock on my cell. I’d been fortunate enough to hitch a ride to school with a complete stranger—a woman on her way to kickboxing at the gym—but I was still cutting it short. Lessthan two minutes to the tardy bell. “Mom? School is about to start. Can I call you at lunch?”
    “You and Scott were such good friends.”
    She’d triggered a faint memory. “When we were
five
,” I said. “Didn’t he always wet his pants?”
    “I had drinks with Lynn last night. She just finalized her divorce, and she and Scott are moving back to Coldwater.”
    “That’s great. I’ll call you—”
    “I invited them over for dinner tonight.”
    As I passed the principal’s office, the minute hand on the clock above her door ticked to the next notch. From where I stood, it looked caught between 7:59 and eight sharp. I aimed a threatening look at it that said
Don’t you dare ring early.
“Tonight’s not good, Mom. Patch and I—”
    “Don’t be silly!” Mom cut across me. “Scott is one of your oldest friends in the world. You knew him long before Patch.”
    “Scott used to force me to eat roly-polies,” I said, my memory starting to come around.
    “And you never forced him to play Barbies?”
    “Totally different!”
    “Tonight, seven o’clock,” Mom said in a voice that shut out all argument.
    I hurried into chemistry with seconds to spare and slid onto a metal stool behind a black granite lab table on the front row. Seating was two to a table, and I had my fingers crossed that I’d getpaired with someone whose understanding of science surpassed my own, which, given my standard, wasn’t hard to beat. I tended to be more of a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic. Which put science and me at odds right from the start.
    Marcie Millar strolled into the room wearing heels, jeans, and a silk top from Banana Republic that I had on my back-to-school wish list. By Labor Day, the shirt would be on the clearance rack and in my price