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that had at one time graced her walls and painted them a pale blue. There was certainly less clutter than when Jolie had occupied it. No photos stuck to the mirror, no make-up and jewelry scattered across the dresser top. Her jewelry box was still there, though.
    Her Aunt Melonie had given the box to her for her tenth birthday. Black lacquer with a Far East motif and lots of small drawers to hold her treasures. She lifted the lid and the miniature ballerina sprang to life, twirling around the tiny mirrored dance floor to a haunting Japanese melody.
    Jolie gently fingered the long-forgotten trinkets lying atop the faded pink satin lining. She opened one of the drawers and withdrew a locket on a gold chain. Where had this come from? She frowned, quite certain she’d never seen it before.
    She opened the locket and stared. Inside were two pictures. One was her third grade school picture. She’d beamed at the camera, apparently proud of her missing tooth. The other was of Court at the same age, smiling his crowded-teeth smile from behind wire-framed glasses.
    A very clear and vivid memory came to her. Court had given her this locket the day before she left for her internship.
    Jolie sat in the swing on the front porch waiting for Chip to take her to Jenny Johnston’s pool party, and there Court was, hands shoved in his pockets. His hair, as usual, seemed to be going in six directions at once, and his glasses obscured the majority of his face.
    She patted the seat next to her and he sat.
    “I brought you something,” he said, and he handed her the small box wrapped in shiny red paper with a tiny white bow on top.
    “Oh, Court. That’s so sweet.”
    She opened the little box and withdrew the locket on its fine gold chain. “How pretty.” She gave Court her best, brightest smile of appreciation. She was leaving tomorrow. She could afford that much. The front of the locket was engraved with the word Friends in swirling script.
    “Open it,” he suggested.
    She did. She saw the beaming faces of those two eight-year-olds.
    “It’s us,” he explained. “When we were in third grade.”
    “Yes, I know.” She closed the locket and turned it over, rubbing her thumb across the inscription on the back. Forever . She chanced a quick look at Court again. What she saw in his eyes left no doubt as to what “forever” meant to him.
    “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I could apply to some schools in New York.” So he could be closer to her. That’s what he wasn’t saying.
    She panicked. Despite appearances Courtney Harrison was a million miles ahead of her in so many ways. He seemed to know things. He was sure of himself, of his direction in life. He was sure of her, too. Sure they belonged together. All she could think was, No, I’m not who you think I am. I can’t be what you want me to be.
    What Court didn’t know was that the appeal of design school in New York, far away from everyone and everything familiar, was to let her reinvent herself. To be the Jolie she longed to be. Smart. Successful. Secure. But it wasn’t without risk. It could all fall apart like a house of cards. She didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s life decisions when the ones she was making for herself seemed precarious at best.
    A horn honked. At the curb Chip swerved to a stop in a shiny red Jeep and saved her from an even more awkward moment.
    She hastily stuffed the locket back in the box and dropped both on the swing cushion before she hopped up. “There’s Chip.”
    Court stood as well. He seemed about to say something.
    “Let’s go, baby,” Chip hollered. He revved the Jeep’s engine and she practically ran to the driveway, looking over her shoulder only once to wave. “Thanks for the locket, Courtney. I’ll see you.”
    She’d left Court standing there, hands in his pockets, hurt and disappointment written all over him.
    After Jenny’s party she broke up with Chip. She’d come home to find the locket right where