“You’re so lucky you brought lunch,” Kira said, dropping beside me in a chair at a table near a window, harried, hair damp, catching her breath. “This is what the cafeteria calls a salad.” She stabbed a plastic fork into a piece of ranch-drowned iceberg lettuce. “I hate having PE right before lunch. I’ll always be late.”

“Blessing in disguise,” Tiana chirped as she and Katrina dawdled past our table. “Less time eating might help you win the cellulite battle.”

Jesus. Already?

“Good luck with that.” Katrina smiled, and I watched them stroll off into their adoring crowd of girls all dressed alike. Kira was staring into her salad.

“Kira.”

“Yeah.”

“The hell is up with that?”

She shrugged. “First day. They just need to remind me to stay in my place. They’ll get bored sometime in October and move on to someone else.”

I took in her small, wiry stature. “But why the fat route? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“They don’t need a reason to fat shame anyone, even if I’m not. They’re in PE with me; I’m the only one who ever uses the showers. Apparently it freaks them out.”

“No one showers?”

“And it’s basketball this semester! Plus, we start with a mile run around the damn track. People are sweaty AF and they just spray Axe for girls or whatever all over themselves and then put their clean clothes back on. I think they don’t want to have to redo their makeup or something? I freely admit I’m a little OCD with handwashing and sweatiness in general, but this is legit full-body cardio sweat; I’m not kidding.” She accepted a Francine apple slice and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Not worth trying to figure them out. I’m showering whether they pull a Carrie in there or not. It’s only one more year.” She put her head on the table then and closed her eyes.

“Kira. What’s up?”

“I think I may have overdone it,” she said, lifting the bottom of her tank top to reveal a pair of nicotine patches near her ribs.

I put my head near hers. “Uh…are you supposed to use two of those at once?”

“Probably not,” she said, pulling the tank aside to show two more patches.

I sat up. “Dude.”

“I was nervous!” she whispered. “When I’m nervous I want to smoke. Drastic times!”

“Okay, well, this is more dangerous than drastic. Take three of them off or you’re going to get nicotine-high or sick or something.” She peeled three of the patches away, I wadded them up and tossed them in the trash, then sat back beside her. “Why is Katiana after you?” I asked.