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scoops of my favorite vanilla bean ice cream into a waffle cone, she glances up at me. “You’re settling in?”
    I take the cone and hand her the money. “I guess.”
    Tapping a key on the cash register, she plucks out some coins. Dropping them into my palm, she squeezes my hand. “Change is never easy. But Rosewood is special. You’ll see.”
    She keeps squeezing my hand until I meet her eyes. For a moment, her smile seems as false as the facade on her storefront. Forcing a smile of my own, I pull my hand away, and mutter, “Hope so.”
    Regan must pick up on something odd, because her voice is higher than usual when she orders her cone, which is a different flavor every time. After she pays, she tells Paloma we have to hurry back to school in time for our dance audition.
    Outside, Regan says, “Did I miss something in there?”
    “I’m not sure.” I chase a drip down the cone with my tongue. “It felt like a warning or something. I guess putting someone in the hospital doesn’t make a great impression.”
    “Everyone knows it was an accident. Stop worrying.”
    “Kai called me a disease, Regan. No one wants to hear that from a hot guy.”
    “No one cares what Kai Seaver thinks. He may be hot, but that’s all he has going for him.”
    “He’s a good swimmer,” I say. “Why isn’t he on the Eastfield team?”
    “Because he’s a loner. He acts like he’s better than everyone else—when he even bothers to show up at school.” She ponders for a moment and relents. “Maybe he’s depressed or something.”
    “If he isn’t, he should be,” I say. “With that personality.”
    “Are you going to ask your dad what’s going on with his family?”
    I make a face. “I’ll try, but Dad’s not exactly chatty, and I don’t see that much of him. Could you try your dad?”
     “I already did. He changed the subject.” She sighs. “I wish Mom was here. She’d tell me.”
    Regan was nine when she lost her mom and remembers her well. All I have is a few fractured images of my mom, whose sandy hair and hazel eyes I inherited. My one vivid memory is of the two of us at a swimming pool, when I was about five. Mom was sitting on the edge, trying to get me to hold my breath and open my eyes under water. She threw a handful of coins into the pool and when I picked them all up, she was so excited she let me spend the money on candy. I didn’t get what the big deal was about, but I remember being happy that I’d made her happy.
    The next year, she died in a car crash on the way to pick me up from school. I waited outside for ages until the principal and Nate came out to find me. I knew something bad had happened because Nate was crying. The principal drove us to the hospital in his van, and all Dad said was, “It’s too late. She’s gone.” It took me a couple of weeks to realize that “gone” meant gone for good.
    Regan and I are still lost in our private musings when we reach the school, but shake off the mood when we see Melissa.
    “Coming to the audition?” I ask.
    “No way,” Melissa says, laughing. “I’m scared of the competition.”
    She gestures down the hall, where Bianca and her troops are advancing on us like an army. They’re all dressed in identical yoga gear, trying to look like a chorus line. There are four girls besides Bianca, and while they’re all pretty, none are as pretty as Bianca. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be in the group, I bet.
    “Don’t tell me you losers think you can make it into dance club?” Bianca asks, giving my sweatshirt and jeans the once over.
    I return the once over. “Bianca, you’re the only person I know who actually looks better in a bathing cap and goggles.”
    There’s a silence, in which everyone, including me, contemplates my social death wish. I’ve started a war I can’t win.
    “I guess you think you’re some kind of hero in the pool,” Bianca says. “But I bet you’re as graceful as a whale on land. Look at those