“Guys are experts at making everything about them,” Hannah says. She has our French textbook propped open in her lap, and she’s scribbling last-minute notes before class, the paper torn and wrinkled because it’s probably lived in her car for a week with the gum wrappers and takeout bags.

“What do you know about being a virgin?” Danielle says to Ava. “You haven’t been one since you were fourteen.”

Ava crumples a bit at Danielle’s comment, and I keep talking, trying to pretend I didn’t hear it. “You can’t lump all guys together though.” If what they’re saying is true, it’s all just too depressing. “Not all guys are bad. Maybe he won’t care I’m a virgin. Maybe it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure there are great guys out there,” Hannah says. “We just haven’t met them.” She sighs, closing her textbook and stuffing it back into her backpack. “Like, take Charlie.”

Hannah hasn’t brought up Charlie to anyone besides me for a while. He turned her into a crying, insecure, puffy-eyed mess, and we were all thankful when he graduated at the end of last year and moved away for college. Now he’s probably some poor girl’s problem in South Carolina.

“Charlie knew I was a virgin. He was my first relationship, obviously, and he knew that. And he was wonderful about everything. He said he loved me. We waited six months before we finally had sex, and I thought it was special. Turns out . . .” She doesn’t need to finish the story.

I look at the empty spot on Hannah’s neck where there was once a delicate chain, a silver “H” that Charlie gave her for Christmas. She used to fiddle with it constantly, probably liking the reminder of him every time she touched it. We threw it in the lake when he dumped her, but still her hands sometimes absently reach up toward her neck out of habit.

“Charlie was a Death Eater,” I say. “That’s a special case.”

“Okay, well, Chase then,” Danielle says, glancing around the room to make sure he’s not around. “Chase told everybody we did it like five seconds after he got his dick back in his pants. How’s that for special?” She pauses to let the words sink in and then we all burst out laughing.

It does seem like we’re surrounded by a special breed of assholes, but maybe that’s just guys in general. Even the good guys like Andrew still sometimes treat girls like shit, and I know it won’t be long before he gets tired of Cecilia.

I don’t want to be that girl, the one someone throws away. Danielle is right. I can’t let Dean find out the truth.