“Sure,” Ryan said, automatically rising to his feet.

“Are you going to talk about your periods or something?” Brandon said, frowning.

“You’re disgusting!” Bee shrieked, slugging him in the shoulder.

Even Ryan frowned with distaste. “Dude, really?”

Brandon grabbed Bee by the waist, lifting her with him as he stood up, pressing a smacking kiss to the side of her neck. Once she was on her feet, Bee’s cheeks were red, her blond hair a fuzzy halo around her head. “Go,” she told Brandon, playfully shoving at him.

The boys loped off, and Bee and I watched them go. Shaking her head, Bee sighed. “I don’t know why I put up with him.”

Me neither, I thought. But I needed Bee on my side for what I was going to say next, and ragging on her boyfriend was not going to accomplish that.

Once the boys were out of sight, Bee turned to me, sympathy in her big brown eyes. “Look, you and Ryan are perfect together,” she said. “Don’t worry about that.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Bee tilted her head. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about? Ryan saying he never knows what you’re thinking? I know how you can obsess over stuff like that, but it doesn’t mean anything. Brandon probably doesn’t even know I have thoughts.”

Impulsively, I reached out and wrapped my arms around Bee, squeezing her tight. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, but your best friend skills are seriously off the charts.”

Laughing, Bee hugged me back. “I try.”

We pulled apart, but I held on to her elbows, keeping her at arm’s length. “Ryan and I are fine, promise,” I told her. “But I actually needed to tell you . . . kind of a secret.”

Bee chewed on her lower lip. “I thought we didn’t have secrets from each other. Wasn’t that what the pinkie swear was about?”

I linked my pinkie with hers again. “It was, and it is. That’s why I’m telling you this now. But, I’m warning you, it’s . . . weird.”

Bee’s pinkie tightened around mine. “I can handle weird, Harper.”

Seriously hoping that was true, I tugged her to sit down next to me under the oak. “It’s about Saylor Stark . . .”

• • •

A few hours later, once school was out, Bee and I stood on the Starks’ front porch. She stared up at the house, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “You’re totally serious about this?”

Ringing the doorbell, I nodded. “One hundred percent.”

We could hear the bell echoing throughout the house, and as it did, Bee straightened her skirt self-consciously. “But . . . Saylor Stark? Seriously?”