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been there for me so often. The least I could do was return the favor.
    Well, I tried. But he kept changing the conversation — “How are you doing? Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Are you still mad at your dad?”
    Ducky “You First” McCrae.
    I was not going to let him off easy. I had to find out what had happened. So I cut math and yanked him out of the cafeteria during 10th-grade lunch.
    I wanted to drag him to the Fiesta Grill. He’s allowed to go there during lunch. But he kept reminding me that 8th-graders are not allowed and I would get into trouble. Like I care.
    So we went outside and hid in the backseat of his car. Which smells terrible. And is cramped.
    And has gum in the carpet.
    (I am such a good friend.)
    Ducky’s problem?
    Alex.
    Alex the drip.
    Alex, who doesn’t deserve to look at Ducky.
    Here’s what happened: Ducky had gone to pick him up this morning, and Alex had yelled at him and told him to go away.
    Yes, that was it.
    I nearly smacked Ducky.
    “Don’t waste time with people who take advantage of you,” I told Ducky.
    I should know.
    “He’s a good guy,” Ducky insisted. “Just seriously depressed. He’s been cutting school.
    Disappearing without letting his mom know where he is. Acting hostile to everyone — ”
    “Sounds like me,” I said.
    “Sometimes I worry about you too,” Ducky replied. “But I know you, Sunny. You’re there.
    With a heart and a soul. Alex is lost. You’re not.”
    “Oh, really?” I said.
    “I mean, you connect. Like now. Look, I know what you’re going through. I know it’s really hard. But you’ll come out the other end, Sunny. Because you’re not shutting down. You never will.” Ducky grinned. “I won’t let you.”
    Cool, or what?
    He just gives and gives and gives. And he never seems to want anything in return.
    I wish all my friends were like that.
    5:15 P.M.
    I did it.
    I figured out a way to give back to Ducky.
    A job.
    Dad needs a clerk. Someone old enough to work, part-time, legally. Someone who is not me.
    Ducky needs the money. His parents are in Ghana, and his older brother is always borrowing cash from him and not paying it back.
    I mean, duh. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?
    I just called to tell him my idea.
    He loved it. He promised he’d apply.
    I’ll put in a good word for him.
    Actually, maybe I won’t.
    Knowing Dad, he’ll refuse to hire him for that reason alone.
    Wednesday 3/25
    8:25 A.M.
    “Does this young Ducky fellow have any references? Is he literate? Does he present a clean appearance?”
    What kind of stupid questions are those?
    Uh, no, Dad. He wears dreds [sic], has a pierced tongue, can’t read, and likes to pick his nose in front of customers.
    I should never have talked to him.
    I should have run off when I had the chance.
    And now look what I’m doing.
    Inflicting him on Ducky.
    study hall
    I flunked yesterday’s math quiz.
    The reason: I didn’t take yesterday’s math quiz.
    Because I was out of class, and because I didn’t have a note, and because Ms. Whalen is a cruel and heartless excuse for a human being, I got an automatic F.
    She told me this while I was leaving class today. Then she gave me this look, like I was supposed to kiss her feet and say I’m sorry.
    Puh-leeze. I just shrugged.
    “Don’t you care?” she asked.
    I shrugged again.
    I love seeing the Whale fume.
    She started yelling at me, but I left in the middle of it.
    Dawn was waiting for me in the hallway.
    “Why did you do that?” she asked.
    “Do what, flunk?” I said. “She didn’t even give me a chance.”
    “You cut the quiz, Sunny!”
    “I didn’t know there was a quiz.”
    “That’s not a good excuse!”
    “Okay, when I think of a better one, I’ll tell you.”
    Dawn threw her hands up and walked away. “See you later, Sunny.”
    That’s what she thinks.
    4:14 P.M.
    Am riding to the Vista Hills Mall. Carol’s driving.
    Don’t know where Dawn is.
    She’s probably with the Whale as we speak. Talking