I mean, Danny and I became friends when I accidentally superglued myself to his desk. Maybe that’s not the same thing.

I did tell Danny what happened and he said I should text Gilly, but I don’t think either gay male or Chicago rules apply to any relationships in Greenville.

Then I started and erased two texts to Gilly which said something along the lines of: Hey! It’s Anne! Hope your ankle is okay. Would be totally cool to hang out. Do you wan t to?

Plus there was the whole Berry thing. What did Berry mean? What was complicated? Was Berry, like, with. . .Gilly at some point?

Was that just me projecting? Should I definitely not say anything to Berry about “rescuing” Gilly?

The next morning Gilly wasn’t in class.

Berry showed up in a set of coveralls solidly splattered in pink, with pink paint in her hair and on her nose.

“Were you painting this morning?” I asked.

“Oh.” Berry looked at her arms. “Yeah.”

“You paint in the mornings? At the mini putt?”

Berry nodded, then, with a little furrow of her brow, changed the subject. “I heard you saved Gilly from the woods yesterday after she fell off her horse and sprained her ankle.”

I plopped my books down on my desk. “HOW do you know that?”

She sprained her ankle? My stomach flipped. Was she okay?

“Small town,” Berry noted. “I also heard you were in your socks.”

“Okay, that is super detailed.”

“So, what happened?” Berry slid into her seat.

“It’s actually a long story.” I pulled out my geography book, “It was a whole horse thing.”

“George?”

“Yes! How do you know her horse’s name?”

“That’s what she always names her pets,” Berry said just as Mr. Hempher stepped to the front of the class and started writing our assignments on the board.

“All right, everyone, pipe down,” he warned.

Berry opened her book and began turning the pages with great concentration and precision.

Curiously Tanner and Sarah were also both absent, which honestly was a kind of magical blessing. Maybe they were helping out Gilly with her sprained ankle? Maybe they were no longer needed to be the villains of my story now that I had taken my place in Greenville High Broadway fame?

No. Obviously.

But it was nice to at least have a lunch in peace. I lingered over the pizza in the cafeteria line, but chose yogurt instead because I’m not a fool. Once we’d settled into a lunch spot on the steps, I slipped in my big, curious question. “So, uh. What was complicated? With you and Gilly?”

Berry was sitting cross-legged on the steps with her skateboard on her lap, wheels up, a bag of chips in one hand. She spun the plastic wheels on her board as she munched.