She nodded, but didn’t look particularly reassured. From his spot in the corner, David called, “The only hooking up Harper did was with a pint of crab bisque. She ran into me, I spilled soup, and then I gave her my jacket. Like a gentleman. That’s all there was.”

He pulled his feet up onto his chair, propping the heels of his Converse on the edge of the seat, and disappeared behind his book again. But Mary Beth only narrowed her eyes at him and then turned back to me.

“Whatever. Everyone knows that you and David have been flirting since, like, third grade, and all those mean articles are his way of pulling your freaking pigtails. And you have Ryan Bradshaw for a boyfriend, and it’s like you don’t even care!”

The other girls were all circling around us now, like this was some bizarre game of Duck-Duck-Goose, and I could feel my face flaming. The only thing I hated more than a scene was people getting involved in my personal stuff, and this was both.

“You don’t know anything about me and Ryan,” I told Mary Beth, trying to keep my voice calm.

“I know that all he is to you is another . . . achievement.” Mary Beth seemed close to tears now, her voice tight and squeaky. “Look at the way you treated him Saturday night. You just ran out of the theater. No explanation, no apology. And then you show up two hours later wearing David’s jacket?”

My hands were shaking, and I realized I was balling them into fists. Afraid I’d wrinkle my gloves, I yanked them off, trying not to pop any of the buttons as I did. “I saw someone I needed to talk to. And I don’t have to explain myself to you, Mary Beth.”

“Who did you need to talk to that badly?” She was only a few inches taller than me, but Mary Beth drew herself up to her full height. Her hands were clenched in front of her, gloves wrinkling.

Bee was at my elbow now, her brows drawn together, confusion and suspicion obvious on her face.

“Just this girl,” I said, hating the words the second they were out of my mouth. Why hadn’t I thought of an excuse? Something that sounded the least bit plausible?

Maybe it was because I was tired of making excuses. Tired of lying to everyone about everything. Even Bee, who I’d let in closest of all, still didn’t have any idea about what was really going on.