Maren thought of all the crummy, spiteful names Curtis had called her. She hated the way other kids laughed along, just because it meant he wasn’t making fun of them. She abhorred his mean little tactic of repeating the same fake stories over and over until they stuck and people started believing them. He’d made up so many lies about her over the years that she’d lost track of them all, but a few lingered painfully:

Maren ate a bunch of nightmares when she was a baby. That’s why she’s such a freak now.

Maren’s so gross, she has to put secret ingredients in those dreams she sells to make people like her.

Maren’s sister has a different dad. That’s why she’s so pretty and Maren looks like a troll.

Maren shoved her chair back, and the screech on the tile echoed through the room. “Just because he’s nice to you, that doesn’t erase the fact that he’s horrible person,” she said. “Thanks for the cake.”

“Wait,” called Amos, but Maren didn’t look back.

Ten

“There you are!”

Maren jolted awake. She’d been curled up like a cat in the chair beside Hallie’s bed. Lishta’s apron hung askew, and one of her braids had come unpinned. It pointed off the side of her head like an antenna.

“You said you’d be in the cafeteria,” she said, sitting on the edge of Hallie’s bed and picking up one of her limp hands.

“I was in the cafeteria for a long time,” said Maren. “And then I left.”

Lishta crinkled her already crinkly forehead. “What’s wrong?”

Maren was about to say nothing, but she swallowed the word. “I guess I was the only one who thought Hallie waking up was a big enough deal to spend the whole day here. But I guess I was also the only one silly enough to think she was actually going to wake up.”

“Oh, love.” Lishta pulled Maren out of her chair and folded her into the softest hug Maren had felt in a long time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My car battery died, and I had to ask Alfredo to jump-start it for me. Then when I finally got on my way, the back bumper fell off.”

Her car was an original Volkswagen Beetle from the 1960s. Maren was honestly surprised the bumper hadn’t fallen off before. It probably had.

“Then the car behind me ran over it.” Lishta’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, if he hadn’t been tailgating, he would have had plenty of time to stop. We had to wait for the police, and then I had to duct-tape my bumper back on until I can get it properly repaired.”

“That stinks,” said Maren, though she felt that her day had been worse.