I'm so upset, I don't know what to say.

"Mommy's here," she says before I get the chance to think of something.

My mother is waiting for us in my dad's pickup truck. It has a big rust spot on the pa.s.senger side.

"Your dad needs a new truck," Leah complains before she opens the door.

"Maybe you should buy him one," I say.

The door creaks when she opens it.

I imagine her falling under the truck and telling my mother to step on the gas.

Leah holds open the door so I can climb in. She always does that. It makes her look like she's being polite, but really it's so she can get in last and sit by the window.

"How was the movie, girls?" my mother asks.

"I thought it was pretty good. What did you think, Lainey?" Leah pauses, but not long enough for me to answer. "Or were you too busy watching something else?"

I glare at Leah.

"What's that supposed to mean?" my mother asks.

"Nothing," I answer. "The movie was fine."

I move closer to my mom so Leah isn't touching me. I clench my teeth together and try to keep my hands from making fists.

I hate her, I think. I hate her so much. Screw Mr. Mitch.e.l.l and his stupid tests and theories. Or don't - so what if I don't understand Leah? I don't want to! It's easier to hate. That's what Mr. Mitch.e.l.l told us. That's why so many people do it, he said.

OK, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l. Fine. You figure her out, then. Right now, I'd rather just hate her.

When school gets out, I wait to see if Leah will call me, but she doesn't. I don't call her, either. I spend most of the summer alone or hanging out with Christi when she'll lower herself to be seen with me. None of the girls from our group call me. I always knew Leah was the only one they cared about. It's OK, though. I'd rather be lonely than deal with Leah Greene or any of her followers.

When school starts again, I make a point of keeping my distance from Leah, and since I haven't run into her, I a.s.sume she's trying hard not to see me, either.

Then one Friday my mother stops Christi and me as we're heading out the door for school and tells us that Leah is coming over to spend the night.

I try to tell my mother that Leah and I aren't friends anymore, but she won't change her mind. "Mrs. Greene needs this favor, Lainey," she says. "She doesn't trust anyone else."

Christi rolls her eyes.

"Mom, please! Can't you call her back and make up an excuse?" I plead.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Lainey," my mom says. "One night won't kill you."

"But -"

"Listen," my mom says, all annoyed. "Mrs. Greene has been having a lot of trouble with Leah lately and doesn't want to leave her alone. It's just one night. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not crazy about this, either!"

"But, Mom. I haven't talked to Leah in months."

"Well, maybe if you two had stayed close, Leah wouldn't be so -"

My mouth drops open. I can't believe she's actually going to blame me for Leah's problems.

"Nice, Mom," Christi says for me. "You should be grateful Lainey doesn't hang out with Leah anymore."

"I'm just saying," my mom says, faltering. "Mrs. Greene is afraid to leave Leah alone, and I think we owe it to them after all the things they've done for Lainey over the years."

"Whatever," I say. I will never get why my mother thinks she needs to impress Mrs. Greene. Obviously, they will never be friends.

Leah finds me at my locker that afternoon. I have a flyer about soccer tryouts in my hand when she comes up behind me and peers over my shoulder. She breathes quietly in my ear.

"Hey, Lainey, haven't seen you for a while."

"Hey, Leah." I quickly crumple up the paper, but she's already seen it.

"Girls' soccer?" She smiles and narrows her eyes, then licks her lips.

I try to step away from her. "Yeah, but - I probably won't bother," I say, trying to sound casual.

"Why not? You're athletic."

"I don't know. I guess I don't want to."

She moves in closer to me so our faces are only a few inches apart. I quickly scan the hallway for who might see us.

"You know there are perks for being on a team, don't you?" she asks.

I try to move away from her again, but I'm already practically inside my locker. Her breath smells like cigarettes and mint gum. She seems different again. Meaner. I wonder when she started smoking.

"What perks?" I ask, forcing my voice to stay calm.

"The locker room, Laine? Come on - you can't fool me."

"No. Really. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Laine, you're so good at pretending you're innocent." She reaches for my hand, touching it gently before I pull it away. I drop the paper in my locker and close the door.

"I have to get to cla.s.s," I say. Our eyes meet. For a second I think I see the old Leah there. The one who taught me how to ride horses and pa.s.sed notes in cla.s.s with me. But she quickly looks down.

"Don't give up on that tryout, Lainey. Just think of the locker room."

I start to walk away, but Leah grabs my arm.

"The locker room, Lainey. All those girls undressing in front of you? How will you control yourself?"

I feel sick to my stomach.

"Look at you," Leah says, close to my face again. "You can't hide it, Laine. I know what team you play on." She moves even closer and whispers in my ear. "See ya tonight."

She turns and walks down the hall. As she swings her hips, her short skirt swishes back and forth, going higher up her thighs.

I lean against my locker. She's wrong. Other girls don't make me feel different. Only Leah.

But she's the one who did those things to me.

So what does that make her?

By the time Mrs. Greene drops Leah off that night, my parents have already left for a party. Christi has escaped to her room and shut the door, leaving me to welcome Leah in. Great.

She opens the door without knocking and throws her leather backpack on the floor by the door. She checks out the room. And me.

"Well, this is going to be a blast," she says sarcastically. "How the h.e.l.l are you, Lainey?"

"OK," I say. "You?"

She shrugs. "I'm hungry."

"There's some leftover pizza in the fridge," I say. "Feel free to help yourself."

She wrinkles her nose as if I offered her leftover meat loaf, but she goes into the kitchen anyway. I don't follow her.

I watch TV in the living room, waiting for her to come back out. But she doesn't. After a while, I hear her voice through the kitchen door. I turn down the volume on the TV.

"Come on," she says. "Why don't you come over and party? Her parents aren't even here."

I walk to the kitchen and poke my head through the doorway. Leah's sitting at the kitchen table with her feet propped up on it, one of my father's antique bar gla.s.ses in her hand.

"Just a minute," she says when she sees me. She lets the mouthpiece slide down below her chin. "May I help you?" She takes a sip of her drink.

"What are you drinking?"

"Gin and tonic. Want one?"

Who is this person? To a stranger, Leah probably looks about eighteen or nineteen, not sixteen.

When I don't answer, she takes a long drink and turns her back to me.

"So will you please come?" she asks the person on the phone. She laces the cord of the old phone my dad restored through her fingers as she talks in a fake whine.

"I bet I could cheer you up." She pauses as the other person says something, then giggles.

I leave her there and find Christi in her room, studying French.

"Oui?" she says, looking up.

"Leah's drinking Dad's gin."

Christi stops smiling. "Perfect. When will Mom and Dad be home?"

"I don't know."

"Lainey?" It's Leah calling from the kitchen. "I'm still hungry!"

Christi looks worried.

"She was asking some guy to come over and party," I tell her.

"c.r.a.p." Christi gets up, annoyed. "Can we just lock ourselves in here?" She's kidding, but I would have been up for it.

"Lai-ney! Where are you?" We hear Leah climb the stairs and make her way to my room. "Lainey?"

"I'm in Christi's room!" I call back reluctantly.

"Hey, guys," she says from the hallway. "I didn't even know you were here, Christi. What were you doing? Hiding?" She has one hand behind her back. In the other is a full gla.s.s of gin and tonic. She's even cut a lime for it, like my parents do at their parties.

"I'm trying to study," Christi says. "What are you doing?" I can tell she's trying to sound authoritative, but she isn't really pulling it off.

"If you're the babysitter, maybe you could make me something to eat?" Leah takes a long drink from the gla.s.s.

"There's leftover pizza in the fridge," Christi says. "Didn't Laine tell you?"

"Why don't you like me, Christi? You've never liked me, have you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I make you nervous, don't I? Just like I make Lainey nervous. Why do I make everyone so f.u.c.king nervous?" Leah walks closer to us as she speaks, keeping her hand behind her back. Her lips are wet and shiny. Her cheeks are pink. She smiles as she walks toward us, swaying a little, then takes another drink.

"How much have you had, Leah?" I ask.

"Get over it, Laine. G.o.d, you're such a prude." She smiles, though. "Or at least you'd like to be, wouldn't you?" She looks at Christi, then winks at me.

I move closer to Christi.

Leah stops in front of us.

"What do you want?" Christi asks.

"I want you to make me something to eat." Slowly, Leah starts to bring her hand from around her back, still hiding whatever she's holding. She smiles mischievously. The ice cubes in her gla.s.s clink.

"Fine." Christi moves past us and starts down the hall. Leah follows her. That's when I see what she's holding behind her back. It's a tiny paring knife that she must have used to cut the lime for her drink.

"Leah!" I yell before I can even think what she's doing.

Christi stops at the top of the stairs and turns around. "What is it?" she asks.

Leah stands between us, still facing Christi. "Oh, this?" she asks, showing Christi the knife.