I felt good in my classes this morning. I’m probably the only one who was excited every time homework was assigned. It would be something to distract me.

As I walk to lunch, I realize that I haven’t really had to make any friends since we moved to Valley Falls. It can’t be that hard. I just need to find a familiar face from one of my classes and say hello.

“Oh, hey,” a girl with bright red hair in braids calls out to me. “You’re the new girl. We’re in Calc together.” I remember her not only from her bright hair but also from her black-and-white-striped leggings.

“Yes! Hi, I’m Ally … Johnson,” I reply with my new name.

There are only three people in this school who know my true identity: the principal, the vice principal, and my assigned guidance counselor.

“I’m Jordis,” she says. “I used to live in Chicago.”

“Cool,” I reply, since I was introduced as “recently moving here from Chicago” by all my teachers this morning.

“I do not miss the weather.” Jordis wraps one of her braids around her finger as we walk in the direction of the cafeteria. “We were in Bucktown. What part did you live in?”

“Portage Park,” I answer with where Dad and I once lived. I really hope she doesn’t ask too many details, since I haven’t been there in years.

“I don’t think I’ve been there,” she says while I relax slightly. “My stepdad has our entire basement decorated in Bears gear. You a fan?”

I may not have figured out much about Allison Johnson, but I can guarantee that no matter what name you call me, I will never, and I mean never, be a Chicago Bears fan.

“Not really,” I reply evenly.

“Yeah, not a big sports fan. I’m more into poetry.” She glances at me. “So what’s your deal?”

“Um,” I start.

“Yeah. Why’d you move? Who’d you move with? You know, all the boring get-to-know-you stuff I was asked when I moved here last year,” she says with a laugh.

I freeze.

I had assumed that I’d make a couple of friends here, but now … How can I possibly get to know people when I’d have to continually lie to their faces about anything from my past? What happens if they want to come over to the house? Will they recognize Paula? Could I ever trust anybody here with the truth?

I’m one person, one click of a phone, away from having my real face plastered on the news.

Everything is going to be harder here.

“So …,” Jordis says quizzically.

“Oh, I moved with my mom, dad, and sister,” I lie. “Dad, ah, got a new job here.”