At first, I think the clear choice is Oscar. But the more I think about it, the more I realize there’s no good answer.

I feel just sick with guilt every time I think about how down Kiera was today. Maybe she’s just using me to get away from her parents, but what if we could go back to the way things were? And Oscar . . . well, he’s my best friend until the end of forever. No way could I ditch him like this. But then again, Oscar comes over every Friday, so maybe it’s okay for us to take a weekend off. And maybe it is kind of weird to have a boy spend the night at my house every Friday. I don’t know.

Either way, I’m running out of time to make a choice. I reach for the phone on the counter and punch a number into the keypad.

A voice answers on the third ring. “Sweet Pea!”

“Mrs. Rivera?”

She laughs. “I certainly hope so! When are we going to see you over here again?”

“Oh, trust me,” I say. “I’ve got a whole bunch of nothing planned this summer, so you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

She tsks into the phone. “You’re not signed up for any extracurricular activities yet? Lots of those run through the summer. I’ve got Oscar signing up for all kinds of clubs and even wrestling, I think.”

“What? Oscar signed up for wrestling?” Oscar avoids sweating as much as I do, and he hates when his brothers horse around. Why would he sign up for wrestling?

“I could’ve sworn he gave me the schedule.” I can hear her shuffling through papers. “You’ll have to ask him yourself, hon. I’ve got paper coming out of my ears over here.”

“Speaking of, could I talk to Oscar?”

“Just a moment!” She muffles the receiver, but the speaker still crackles when she shouts, “Mijo!”

A few seconds later, Oscar sighs into the phone. “I’ve got it, Mom!”

“Hey, it’s me,” I say. “Your mom said something about you signing up for clubs? And a sport even?”

I can hear him chewing on his lip—his nervous tic. “Yeah, we can talk about it tonight. My mom’s getting my brother to give me a ride later. What time should I come over?”

“Well, I sort of have some bad news. . . .” And then I lay it all out for him, and to my surprise, Mrs. Bryant’s dumb rule is the least of his concerns.

“You invited Kiera to our sleepover without even asking me first?”

I groan. “I don’t know. I mean, yes. But you dragged me to her birthday party. How was I supposed to know you’d even care?”

“I didn’t make you go to her party. You wanted to check out Trampoline Zone as much as I did.”

“I just . . . we used to be such good friends. And she’s going through a lot right now.”