Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look happier than she does right now.

Knowing it’s time to get a move on if I want to make it out of here in one piece, I take a step to the right. Blythe follows.

I cut back to the left, but she predicted my move.

I sigh and cross my arms, trying to disguise the fact that I now have a death grip on my book bag. They’ve stolen things from me before, and I can’t let it happen again. I have algebra homework in my bag that I need to turn in to Mr. Fisher after chemistry, and I don’t think I’ll have time to redo it if they decide to take it.

I brace for impact just as she begins.

“Did you really think you would get away with it?”

She looks back at Lavinia and Nellie, and the three of them all cackle like she’s never said anything funnier.

“It’s sooo pathetic,” Nellie says, pinching her face into a grimace like she’s embarrassed on my behalf.

Students are starting to gather now, eager for front-row seats to The Blythe Show.

She looks out at the forming crowd, and her eyes gleam with power. She lives for the spotlight, no matter the cost.

“Have you guys seen this?” she asks, holding out a small piece of paper for them to look at.

The crowd leans in for a good look, and she obliges them.

She doesn’t even have to finish her next sentence before my world implodes. As soon as I hear her say “Look what she keeps under—” I know what they’ve found.

I know she will say “her pillow,” and I know she will follow it up with “His picture!”

“Whose?” someone in the back shouts.

“Emmett’s!”

No last name required. At this school, in this life, there’s only one Emmett that matters.

“Oh my god, she loves him,” a girl from my English class declares.

A boy I recognize from art says, “She cut his picture out of the yearbook like some kind of stalker.”

The word freak hisses through the air, landing like an arrow in my heart.

“There’s probably more too.”

Whoever says this, I can’t tell. Tears are already starting to crowd the corners of my eyes. Soon they’ll drop.

“You need to be careful, Blythe. I can’t believe you have to sleep right next to her.”

For a moment I imagine what my mom would do in this situation, the words she’d have for these people. She’d eviscerate them. They would bow at her feet by the time she was done.

And for what it’s worth, I do try. My jaw ticks. My lips part, but then the first tear falls, stalling my courage and my words.

Collette, an older girl who hangs out with Emmett and his friends, slices through the crowd and steps across the invisible boundary separating me from everybody else.

“Blythe, you can be such a little shit sometimes, you know that? Give the poor girl her picture back.”