“Oh, I think I’ve been once,” Danielle said. “The Tennessee Aquarium’s there, right?”

“Yep,” Elise said, biting into an apple.

“Do you miss it? Your old school, your friends?” Anjali asked, and Elise just shrugged.

“Did your parents get transferred for work?” Danielle said.

“Something like that.”

It went on for a while—polite questions and short answers. I grew nervous, unsure why Elise was so reserved. She wasn’t rude, just quiet, like she didn’t like all this attention on her. She only seemed to relax when the others moved on, shooting me a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as Melody, Anjali, and Danielle talked about a bake sale they were organizing for that Thursday.

By the end of lunch, Melody had pushed me into baking muffin tops and asked Elise to contribute too.

“I’m not really good at that kind of stuff,” Elise said.

“Oh, I’m not good at that kind of stuff either,” Melody said, even though that was a lie. For each of our birthdays she’d bake our favorites: coconut cake for me, brownies for Anjali, and red velvet cupcakes for Danielle. And she’d do it all from scratch.

“I just get mix or frozen cookie dough,” she continued, waving Elise’s concerns aside.

“I’d burn them,” Elise said with a forced laugh. I looked between the two of them, just trying to think of a way to prevent a fight over some stupid cookies.

“I could come over and help Wednesday after school if you want,” Melody offered, still oblivious. I knew they were different, but I still wanted Elise to like her, or at least give her a chance. Though I think I was also secretly impressed—most people had a hard time saying no to Melody when she was this determined, but not Elise.

“No, thank you,” Elise said firmly, not making an excuse this time. Melody frowned in confusion.

“But—” she began to protest.

“I can do cookies too,” I said, trying to defuse the situation. “If you want.”

Melody stared at Elise’s stoic expression and answered me without looking over. “Sure, I guess.”

After lunch, as Melody and I walked to honors language arts, the one class we still shared, she asked how I’d met Elise.

“Why?” I said.

“Just wondering.” She adjusted her backpack straps.

“At homecoming.” Cameron had broken up with me only a couple days ago and I hadn’t had a chance to tell her yet, so I didn’t elaborate.

“So that’s where you were,” she said. “I texted but you never got back to me.”

“Sorry,” I said. “She gave me a ride home.” That was technically true. There were just a few detours.

Melody paused outside of our classroom, tapping her chin as she considered this.

“Why?” I asked.

“No reason. She’s just a little weird.”

“Because she didn’t want to help with the bake sale? Come on, Mel,” I said. Elise hadn’t acted weird, she just didn’t want to give in to Melody’s demands.

“No, it’s not that,” she said. “I don’t know, I tried so hard to talk to her and she just seemed so . . .”