“What about the boys in the advanced classes? Are they show-offs, too?”

“Some of them, I suppose. But a lot of them are nerds.”

Phoebe suppressed a smile. “I’ve always liked nerds. There’s nothing sexier in a man than intelligence. Of course, there is something to be said for dumb and cute.”

Molly giggled, and for a few moments the barriers between them dissolved. “The boy who has a locker next to mine has long hair. He’s really loud and obnoxious, always making guitar noises, but he’s kind of cute, too.”

“Is he?”

“He’s in my advanced English class, but he’s having trouble keeping up.”

“Maybe you could offer to help him out.”

“He doesn’t even know who I am.” Molly shoved a sack out of the way, her face clouding. “Nobody likes me. All the girls are bitches. If you’re not a Pom Pom and you don’t have the right clothes, they won’t even talk to you.”

Now Phoebe understood what had motivated the shopping spree. “I’m sure all the girls aren’t that way. You just have to find the right group. It’ll take time.”

“I don’t care about them! You told me that I only had to stay a semester, and then I’m leaving.”

Defeated, Phoebe rose from the side of the bed. “Enjoy your new clothes. I wish we could have gone shopping together. I would have liked that.”

Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she saw a flash of uncertainty cross her sister’s face.

* * *

Just before bedtime that night, Phoebe clipped Pooh’s fuchsia leash to her collar and led her outside for a walk. After the danger of Manhattan’s streets, she loved this quiet residential area where she had the freedom to walk at night without worrying about becoming a statistic.

The town houses butted up against an area of wooded parkland. A paved bicycle path lit by an occasional streetlamp ran along the fringe. She loved the dense quiet, the loamy smell of the woods, and the crispness in the night air that announced the end of summer.

Pooh trotted ahead, sometimes stopping to poke her nose at a pile of acorns or beneath a clump of dry leaves, occasionally squatting to leave her mark on a particularly blissful spot. Phoebe’s sneakers squeaked on the sidewalk, and the fleecy sweatshirt she wore was warm and cozy. For a few moments she let everything unpleasant slip away and enjoyed the night quiet.

Her sense of well-being was broken by the sound of a car turning into her court. She watched it slow down in front of her condo, then begin to pull into her driveway only to come to a stop as the headlights caught her. The driver immediately backed the car and drove toward her. Even before the vehicle stopped at the curb, she saw that it was a red Ferrari.