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weeks of his emails for warning signs, but, I mean, if I was her sassy best friend, I’d have been sewing her prom dress.”
    “Oy.”
    “And there’s a kicker.”
    “Hit me.”
    “She lives directly across the street from him. Bedroom stares right into his.”
    “Wow.” She pauses to take in the enormity. “New challenge. Okay, kick ass on calc tomorrow! Bye!” She kisses Zach on the cheek before walking away toward the subway.
    Max sighs contentedly as she makes her way to Union Square, her tasks for the night completed. She relishes the feeling of being worn out by a full day of work, looks forward to getting into bed and waking up fresh tomorrow to tackle this new challenge of getting Bridget over the boy-next-door. Which is way worse than boy-from-camp, boy-in-school-play, or even boy-in-homeroom. She’s learned that there’s bound to be a strategy, she just has to think long and hard and shake down what the world doesn’t even know it has to offer.
    Nothing makes Max happier than the emails from her graduated clients reporting on their happiness. She makes a point of staying up on everyone’s progress, all the way back to Client One, Olivia Petra. A few days after Max’s Met epiphany, Max spotted her sobbing on a barrel of sardines behind her family’s Italian grocery. Max approached her, laid out her mission, and asked if Olivia would be open to being her guinea pig. Olivia said anything was worth a shot as she couldn’t feel worse than she did. Through trial and error (which Olivia thankfully had a sense of humor about—Max will never again take anyone to the totally depressing Tibet Center to work on focus), Max honed her program. At the end of four weeks, Olivia walked into senior homeroom and didn’t even blink as she watched her ex suck her cousin’s face. Olivia was so grateful she referred a friend, and slowly the word spread.
    As she passes through the northern tip of NYU’s campus, she gets excited anew about her plans. A self-described optimistic realist, Max knows colleges aren’t exactly falling over themselves to admit high school dropouts. Even ones with a 3.8 GPA. So she knows she has to bring something amazing to distinguish herself. After some measured cyber-stalking (how many fan letters do psych professors get?), just this week Max was completely floored to hear back from NYU’s Professor Jane Schmidt. The renowned psychologist hailed for her groundbreaking work in pain management. She is intrigued by Max’s work and has agreed to meet in December to review Max’s findings on “Strategies for Ameliorating Heartbreak in the American Adolescent Female.” If Max’s presentation is stellar and her data sound, Jane will vouch for Max to the admissions committee.
    Then Max can co-major in psychology and business so she can take Ex, Inc. national. A branch in every mall. An article in every magazine. Max will be the one in the history books—the famous woman who cracked heartbreak.
    Sure, equal pay, maternity leaves, and pro sports are important. But a girl can’t make a free throw from the foul line if her head’s not in the game. This is the next frontier.

CHAPTER 4
    T aylor Bradley wakes the next morning with a start, the tense anticipation that’s bummed him out the last few days still gripping him before he remembers … he did it. He broke up with Bridget. It’s done—behind him! He feels a rush as he drops his feet to the floor and ruffles his hair. His single hair. That some girl could rub at anytime. Any girl. Because he can do that now, ’cause he’s single. He scrolls his iPod in search of the perfect anthem to start this new era of his life. Settling on Drake, he rolls the volume up and raises a fist pump in his dresser mirror. What to wear his first day back? What are guys even wearing now? He feels at the scruff on his chin as he dances into the hall and to the bathroom to shower. He should totally get a haircut, let the world know what’s up. And sayonara