Paige had thought I was a little strange, pacing back and forth across her room and poking into all her stuff, but eventually, another image had popped into my head, one of Paige’s little sister swiping the phone off the nightstand so she could snoop through Paige’s text messages. I’d told Paige what I’d seen, and sure enough, we’d gone down the hall to her sister’s room and found her using the stolen phone.

Paige blinked, finally shaking off the rest of her daze.

“Gwen Frost,” she murmured again, her voice a little stronger this time.

She turned away from the mirror, and her eyes dropped to the wooden bench I was sitting on. Paige had already fixed her hair, which looked sleek and perfect as always, and she’d put her brush down on the end of the bench, less than a foot away from my hand. Paige stared and stared at the hairbrush, her green eyes bright and glittering, and she had that weird, twisted look on her face again.

What was wrong with her? Was Paige high or something? It wasn’t unheard of for kids to get totally wasted on pot or something worse, even in our rather tame North Carolina high school. But Paige had seemed fine in gym class, shooting layup after layup, since she was one of the stars of the girls’ basketball team. I hadn’t been so lucky, because I was a total train wreck when it came to basketball. Today, I’d managed to bang myself in the head with the ball when I’d tried to shoot a freaking free throw—with the whole class watching, of course. Even the coaches had snickered and rolled their eyes at me. Yeah, I was just that kind of loser, a book-smart Gypsy girl who sucked at pretty much every sport you could think of and probably a couple that hadn’t even been invented yet.

“So can I use your hairbrush or not?” I asked, getting a little impatient.

I’d already swapped my gym clothes for my usual sneakers and jeans. I’d also unzipped my purple hoodie and put it on over my T-shirt of Karma Girl, one of my favorite superheroines. Maybe I wasn’t a budding fashionista like some of the other girls were, but I didn’t want to go back to class with my hair frizzed out to epic proportions.

Paige hesitated, and a strange emotion flashed in her eyes, almost like a warning. “Sure.”

“It’s okay, Gwen,” my friend Bethany Royal piped up from her spot on the far end of the bench. “You can borrow mine.”

Paige kept staring at me, and I looked back at her, even more suspicious now. She was definitely hiding something—something huge. Maybe it was the fact that Drew had pretended I was Paige when he’d kissed me. Maybe I was a little more angry, jealous, and hurt over that than I wanted to admit. Maybe I wanted to find some way to get back at Paige, even though I knew it wasn’t her fault that Drew liked her instead of me.