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grandmother on my father’s side always made me go when we visited her. And my mother joined a church when we were in New York. We haven’t been since moving here. But she started going like two weeks ago and really wants me to join her.”
    “Great, your parents are dragging you to church and mine are dressing me up to smile and play nice at a party. I really wish they’d get a clue.”
    “Who doesn’t like a party?” Lindsey Yi chimes in. She’s the new girl at Settleman’s High. She joins our table and immediately starts talking.
    We met Lindsey the night of the spring dance. That night she was hitting on Jake like he was drenched in honey and she was queen bee. The memory of how exasperated Jake looked as Lindsey was gyrating her body against him still made me giggle.
    Ever since that night, Lindsey has been popping up whereverwe are, which probably isn’t a good thing because, with all the freaky stuff going on around us, she might see something she doesn’t understand. Although, I swear, the girl never stops talking long enough to see anything other than the words coming out of her mouth.
    Case in point, she’s still chattering away even though none of us have said hello or gotten a word in edgewise.
    “At my last school we had a dance every month. There was always a theme to the dances like a masquerade ball, a black-and-white party, a slumber party. Like I said, everybody loves to party. I don’t get that Lincoln is like that, though. Seems a little more uptight here than it was in Milan.” She shrugs. “Guess that might be a cultural thing.”
    I almost choke trying to swallow my bottled water. Did she just say a “cultural” thing? I’m pretty sure she’s Chinese. I’m half Argentinean. Jake’s white and Krystal’s part Native American, part African-American. Could our little table be any more diverse?
    “It’s a private party,” Jake says in a tone that’s unlike him. Lindsey makes him uncomfortable. I wonder if that means he likes her—I mean, likes her.
    “Just a little get-together that my parents are having,” I say, trying to defuse the tension. Even though Lindsey doesn’t look like she’s bothered by what Jake says at all.
    She just waves a hand as if dismissing Jake altogether. “That’s fine. I was just saying that we used to have parties all the time. Anyway, what else do you guys do around here to have fun?”
    Fun? In Lincoln? Was there any? Not that I can think of.
    When nobody answers right away, Lindsey just shrugs. “I understand how you feel, Sasha.”
    “What?” I say because I haven’t said anything, and I’m totally lost as to what she’s talking about.
    “You don’t want to go to the party, don’t want to be bothered with your parents and their fake friends. Actually, it’s still a mystery to you why they even want you there.”
    And how did she know all that? “Ah, yeah, I guess,” I say, stumbling over my words as I stare at her.
    She’s short, I mean shorter than both me and Krystal, which means she’s got to be like five feet two or three inches. Her hair is long and jet black and hangs straight down her back. Her bangs are cut stylishly long so that it looks like she can barely see. Yet she’s looking at me as if she can see right through me. Strange.
    The bell rings, and Jake quickly jumps up from the table first. “Gotta go,” he says but then waits for Krystal to get up.
    But as Krystal gets up, we’re joined by another student. I’d been wondering where Franklin was. After the spring dance he’d almost become a member of our little clique.
    Franklin Bryant is Krystal’s boyfriend now. Most lunch periods Franklin sits with us, his arm around Krystal’s chair while Jake watches them both out of the corner of his eye. Now Jake’s frowning as Franklin’s arm—as expected—snakes around Krystal’s shoulder.
    “Hey, ready for afternoon classes?” Franklin asks in that geeklike voice of his. He’s not really a geek just because