“And who’s that with Morgan?” I point over at Puck, who’s flexing his muscles for the passersby now. “Also why the wood joke? Am I missing something?”

“Because his family owns the lumber mill and Natalie’s not very original,” rings a baritone over my head. The voice’s owner pulls out the chair next to me, depositing a Gatorade and an apple onto the table as he sits.

“Ben,” Bronte says, registering some surprise.

“His name is Caleb Hardy. The last name doesn’t help,” Amber supplies, then nods at Ben. “Benjamin. Fancy seeing you here.”

He ignores her, laser-focused on me. I can’t say I mind.

“I forgot to say yesterday…if you want help to catch up on AP Enviro or Government, I could share my notes.”

“That would be great.” Never mind I’m not worried about AP Gov, and the AP Enviro teacher already gave me detailed lecture notes. My stomach is tumbling like a washing machine, and I find I quite like it.

Ben sinks his teeth into the golden yellow of his apple, grins. “Awesome. I’ll see you later?”

And then he’s pushing back his chair and making a quick retreat.

Bronte and Amber blink at me, then at each other, then at me again.

Before I can ask why they’re looking at me as if I’ve sprung a third head, the scent of citrus and spice descends, Natalie’s perfume announcing her. She sits down in the very chair Ben recently vacated. She’s left Luke behind to tend their table.

“So did everyone vote for Old Hollywood Glam?”

“You know it,” Amber says with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Excellent.” If Natalie knows she’s being mocked, her tone doesn’t betray it. “And do you all have your Spirit Week costumes set?” She helps herself to the oatmeal cookie on Amber’s tray, takes a bite. Guess she figured it out. Amber glares.

I clear my throat, distracting Natalie. “Spirit Week?”

“Yeah, we all dress up before the big game,” she explains breezily. “Monday is PJ Party, Tuesday is Superheroes. Wednesday is Decades Day. And thanks to yours truly, I ensured we got the seventies, and, yes, I will be dressing up as Cher, so dibs on that. Then Thursday is Twin Day.” Natalie eyes me keenly. “You make an uneven number of girls, unless you want to twin with Ben. I saw you talking to him.”

“Uh, I don’t know him very well. We just met. Do I have to twin with someone?”

“No,” Bronte reassures me. “Spirit Week isn’t law. It’s meant to be fun. Don’t worry.”

“Your hair is so pretty,” Natalie says, twisting a strand between her fingers. Her eyes narrow. “Maybe you and I can pair up. Morgan refuses to dye her hair, so we can never complete the illusion.”