“What?” I say.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying to you,” Mia says.

I spot Mia’s mother standing next to Grams. Mrs. Tolentino is dressed in a gray suit. She works at a law firm downtown and looks like she came straight here from the office.

“Huh?” I say.

“I’m saying ‘What?’ because something is seriously going on with you. You didn’t even try.” She points at the space near the front of the classroom, where the match took place. “You totally blew it.”

“I tried,” I mumble. My brain still feels cloudy and cramped.

“Did you?”

“Why are you blaming our loss on me? That’s not fair.”

She scowls at me. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That something is up with you, and it seems like the only person you’re willing to talk to is Quinn McCauley.” Mia’s white face flushes red at the mention of Quinn’s name, and I can feel my own skin heating up, too.

“I thought I was supposed to be your best friend. You can tell me things, you know.” She leans in close to me. Her natural deodorant smells like coconuts and eucalyptus. “Like are you talking to her about Owen? Do you think it’s weird to talk to me about it because Owen and I are friends, too?”

I gape at her. I am most definitely not talking to Quinn about Owen. But I’m definitely not talking about it with Mia either. “It’s none of your business.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “I’m your best friend.”

“Says who?” I blurt out.

She steps away from me as her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

I know I should apologize. I should back down. But I don’t. “I’ve never said that you’re my best friend.”

Mia’s face has turned beet red, and the tips of her ears are the shade of a fire engine. “So that’s it? You are back to being best friends with Quinn?”

“This isn’t about Quinn.” I try to keep my voice steady, but I can hear the cracks in it.

“Whatever. It clearly is. You’ve been spending every day hanging out with her.” Mia slides her foot out in front of her and drags a slow line across the shiny classroom floor like she’s trying extra hard to delineate something. “You know, I’m pretty tired of your act.”

“My act?”

“Yeah. Your act. Like you want everyone to feel sorry for you because of what happened to your sister. And we all do feel bad, but you can’t just go around and treat us all like we don’t matter.”

The heat in my face is growing. I’m sure I’m almost as red as Mia. I stare down at my shoes. I want to tell her a hundred things, but I only shake my head.

“Whatever,” she repeats. “Friends tell each other things, Cora. They don’t keep secrets from one another.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Mia’s mom comes up behind her. She gives Mia’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.