“It’s fine,” I say, pulling out my jacket. As far as I can see, there isn’t any note. I breathe a sigh of relief. “Really. There’s nothing there.”

My locker isn’t what Lydia needs to be worried about, not since that note showed up at my house. But she doesn’t know about that. No one does. If I told her, she’d tell the principal on my behalf, and then all the secretaries would know my business. Who knows how fast news spreads in the teacher’s lounge?

“Seriously. I can handle it.”

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

“What about Miles?”

My eyes snap to Claudia. She’s staring straight at me, for the first time in ages.

“Uh.” I tug at my backpack straps. “What about him?”

“Does he know about the notes?”

“No.”

“Maybe he should.”

“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“You’re getting them because of him,” she snaps. Then, lower: “And blowing us off because of him, too.”

“What?”

She raises a brow, as if daring me to disagree. I hold back a groan.

It’s not Miles’s fault I skipped GSA—it was mine. I don’t want her to blame him. I want to talk to her about what it’s like to officially date Miles, how we stare across the classroom during AP US History, making a game out of trying not to get caught. I want to tell her about trading the lucky sweatshirt back and forth, how I pretend I don’t sit around my house with it on, the scent of Miles around me while I watch TV. But I know Claudia doesn’t want to hear it.

“I swear to God, you are so far gone,” she says. We walk down the hallway, with Lydia on the left and me on the right, like always, but the tension between us is far from normal. “Do you ever stop to think about anything else?”

“You brought him up,” I say, balancing my books in one hand while holding my jacket in the other. “And anyway, you know I think about other things.”

“Like what?”

“Like…musicals,” I say. “And food. I’m always thinking about food.”

“Is that why you hang out with him?” Lydia raises a teasing brow. “Because he buys you food?”

I’m startled at her voice. Almost irritated. She and Claudia were friends before I came along. If anyone can get Claudia off my back, it’s her. But she doesn’t say anything about our weird confrontation, just like she hasn’t said anything about GSA. She just grabs a book off the stack I’m carrying.

“I pay for stuff,” I protest. “I’m gonna pay for my own stuff today.”

“Yeah, sure.” Claudia scoffs. “I’m sure you’ll have to.”

“What do you mean?”