I know that I wrote the darn thing myself, so it feels a little silly to think this, but something about this letter makes even me feel better. It’s hard for me to piece together my feelings about Kiera, but if anything, I know what she’s going through, so I hope this letter helps her just a little.

Cheese’s paw reaches under the door, yanking on it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m almost done.”

Oscar isn’t waiting for me on the bus like he usually is, so I just head right into Mrs. Young’s class. He was out sick yesterday, and I forgot to call him. If he’s out again today, I might just have to make a house call.

But when I walk into class, there he is at his desk, flocked by Alyssa, Samantha, and Tyler, his friends from the Valentine Community Theater’s production of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.

Those friend thieves! I knew it!

Oscar’s eyes flash on me for a second, but then he turns back to his conversation.

Kiera sits down in front of me, and I stare a little too closely, trying to tell if something is somehow different about her.

“What are you looking at?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “I mean, I was looking at you, and you’re not nothing, but . . . sorry.” I shake my head. “I spaced out.”

I wait for her to say something, but after pausing for a beat, she just nods. “It’s cool. I’m feeling kinda spacey too.”

“All right, class!” calls Mrs. Young. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover this morning. Let’s get out those geography books.”

A few rows back, Cooper lets out a snort. “Covering ground! Geography. I get it!”

Mrs. Young smirks. “Nice to see someone has a sense of humor bright and early this morning.” She claps her hands together. “Let’s go, people! You’re not in eighth grade yet!”

I reach under my desk for my textbook and try to get Oscar’s attention as I do, but I think he’s actually doing everything he can not to look in my direction.

As Mrs. Young goes over our chapter review, I tear out a piece of paper from my notebook and jot down a message.

You still mad at me?

I fold the paper up as tiny as I can and write Oscar on the outside.

The moment Mrs. Young turns her back to write on the board, I pass the note over to Tyler, who passes it to Greg, who turns to me and smiles before passing it to Oscar. Success!

Oscar holds the note under the palm of his hand before discreetly opening it in his lap. He stares at my message for a minute.

Come on! It’s five words! What’s there to think about?

He crumples up the paper and coughs into his elbow to cover up the sound.

Oh crud. My stomach sinks.

But then he turns to me and looks me straight in the eyes before shaking his head and mouthing the word no.