“God, you’re such a klutz, Austin,” says an annoyed voice. I turn to see who spoke.

Ladies and gentlemen, once again, Edie O’Shea.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbles to Edie, who’s standing behind him looking deeply unimpressed. “I mean, sorry,” he says, this time to me, before streaking off into the lab. A couple people laugh, and then everyone turns back to their lockers and their conversations.

Edie marches off down the hall, leaving me alone to wonder what exactly just happened.

35

For the rest of the week, I’m the one stealing glances at Edie, trying to detect any hint of the girl I saw crying in the bathroom. But she seems pretty much normal. Well, normal for Edie O’Shea. The only two things out of the ordinary are the faint shadows under her eyes, and the unusual quiet that has descended over her lunch table.

She hasn’t said another word to me about what happened in the bathroom or about Austin. Did she snap at him because she was worried I would tell someone what I saw? And what’s she crying over that she’s so embarrassed about?

She didn’t need to worry, though. I told Fina about what happened with Edie and Austin. (“She probably has a guilty conscience,” Fina replied. “Who knew Edie had a conscience to begin with?”) But I don’t tell her about Edie crying. Because I know if things were reversed and it was Edie who saw me crying in the bathroom, she would tell everyone.

And I don’t want to be like Edie.

The rest of the week is surprisingly okay. Maybe the scene outside the computer lab has something to do with it, but nobody else does anything mean the rest of the week. Or maybe people are just getting used to the new me.

I still get the occasional stare, but I try to remember what Fina said on Monday. When I catch a group of eighth graders looking at me before homeroom on Friday, I force myself to smile instead of look away.

And they actually smile back.

Still, it’s a relief when school lets out on Friday afternoon. Especially because Friday is stakeout night.

Mom comes and picks me and Fina up from school. We both sit in the back, even though I know Mom hates that because it makes her feel like a chauffeur.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Fina!” she says.

“You, too, Mrs. Talbot.”

“How’s school going? Are you liking it so far?”

“Yeah,” says Fina. “It’s smaller than my old school, and the kids aren’t so bad.” She shoots me a look and nudges me in the ribs.

“Does your family have big Thanksgiving plans?”