“My goodness, O’Hara,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “This is your school? It looks like the setting of an Italian romance.” She opened the window and leaned out to get a look at the cone-shaped tops of the two rounded towers that framed Frances Perkins.

“I am left breathless by the symbolism in this construction,” she added.

Scarlett was at lunch before she noticed the seven thousand, one hundred dollar–size lump in her pocket. She accidentally pulled it out while she was in line for her taco. (Taco Fridays had gone down so well that Taco Tuesdays had also been instituted. Everyone loves a taco.) A freshman caught sight of it as she struggled to stuff it back in. She remained paranoid about it all day—too scared to keep it on her person, too scared to put it in her locker. In her mind, an unnamed god smote her boss with thunderbolts. Meanwhile, her phone buzzed all day with messages from said boss to come right over after school.

At least one part of this day was a little better than the one before—since they had spoken, Max was acting more like his normal self, doing his best to annoy Scarlett all period long in Biology. Moreover, he made a huge effort to make sure Dakota saw him do this. Once again, he positioned himself in the music room near her locker. Scarlett deliberated going in, and then impulsively opened the door.

“I have to go see my boss,” she said. “She’s been calling me all day. I just wanted to say bye.”

“You say that like I care where you go,” he replied.

“Later, freak.”

“Whatever.”

As Scarlett turned to go, she caught his reflection in the glass of the door, and he was smiling. So was she.

Spencer skidded alongside Scarlett on his bike as she approached Mrs. Amberson’s building. The bike was slightly less wobbly than before, but not much.

“She call you, too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Scarlett said. “She must have news. Your bike seems a little better.”

“Yeah, it is a little. I sat working on it all day. I had nothing else to do.”

He got off and pulled out the lock to attach the bike to some ornamental gating outside the building. It still wasn’t quite stable enough to even lean correctly, and immediately started to fall. Spencer caught it before it slipped.

“I would have missed this bike if it had gone,” he said. “I have to admit it. It stands for something. I’m not sure what. I’m not even sure if it’s good. But that doesn’t matter. I believe in this bike.”

“Hey!”

This was from Murray, who had stepped outside to survey his doorway domain.

“Yeah?” Spencer said.

“You can’t lock that bike there!”

“Why not?” he asked.

“You can’t lock that bike to my building!”

“I’m visiting someone in the building.”