“She moved here from Asheville, North Carolina,” says Kiki, her hands flailing like they do when she’s excited about info she’s uncovered, sleek black-painted fingernails catching the light at Lily’s Café. “Her mom’s still there, but Jasmine’s living with her dad now. Apparently he’s some big CEO and his house is incredible.”

“Who knew they had Balenciaga out in the sticks?” Shannon stabs methodically at a lettuce leaf. She always eats as if she’s dissecting a lab rat.

“What’s with her hosting the party?” Gia asks.

“Rumor has it, Hunter tried working his charm on her with a party invite and she looked right at him and said she was busy that night with her housewarming and he was welcome to come. By next period, he was telling everyone the party had moved.” Kiki is a fount of information, barely stopping to inhale her pizza. Except none of it is the information I care most about, like why she’s living with her dad now and why she didn’t tell me she was moving here, but I’m thirsty for any and all of it and I’ll take what I can get.

I listen silently as my three best friends break down everything from Jasmine’s wardrobe (expensive) to her hair (too long, Gia thinks, and I shove three fries in my mouth at once so I don’t say a word about how she wouldn’t think that if she’d ever wrapped it around her fingers) to her flawless French (which I can attest is panty-droppingly good).

Jasmine was supposed to be my secret, and in one morning, she’s become the world’s top news story.

I really need to change the subject.

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about this girl when Chase Harding has been hitting on me all morning,” I say with an aggrieved sigh, and though I meant it as a subject-changer, I’m also a little disappointed. I’ve made these three girls sit through hours upon hours of Chase obsession, and the morning he returns the slightest bit of interest, there’s no parade in my honor? What the hell, ladies? How am I supposed to process this on my own?

“I thought we were playing it cool,” says Shannon, smirking like she’s trapped me in something. “So much for that, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“He told Alex you’re playing hard to get,” says Kiki, helping herself to my fries. “Said you gave him a big ol’ ‘maybe’ about the game Friday night.”

“But you are going, right?” Gia asks, starting to follow Kiki’s lead with my fries before yanking her hand back as she presumably remembers it’s cheer season. “You guys promised you’d come watch me.”