"No. Shocked isn't the right word." I realized I wasn't shocked at all. Farah had been flirting with this for a long time.

She lay back on my pillow, silent. I could hear the faint hum of my digital clock. The heat register on the ceiling blew hot air over us.

She sighed loudly. "Don't you have more lectures?"

"No," I said. "Do you want me to lecture you?"

She picked at a piece of loose thread on her sleeve. "No, but it's something you tend to do. I think you like it."

"I know. Sorry. Can't help it."

"It's kind of sweet in a way. Makes me think you care. One person who does, anyway. No, I mean two."

I nudged her. "You know I care, Farah. I worry about you is all."

"I don't mind. It's nice someone worries about me."

I frowned. "Your mother was a mess when you were missing."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't know her, Emili. She wasn't a mess for the reasons you think. She was a mess because she thought I'd pulled one over on her."

"I don't think so. She seemed genuinely upset."

"Oh, she was upset all right. It was genuine, but again not for the reasons you think. I'm telling you she doesn't care much about me either way - except it drives her insane when I do something to cause her to lose face. It's a thing with her. Her face."

She started laughing. At first, it was soft and quiet. But then she got louder and louder until it came out more like a chortle. Tears started to stream down her face. She fell over sideways onto the bed and curled up, still laughing. She was creeping me out.

"Farah." I shook her. "Farah, it's not funny. Stop."

She didn't stop. She coughed out choked sobs and the tears kept falling.

"Farah!" I shook her again. "Stop!"

Finally, she did. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and kept lying there as if comatose.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "What's going on? You're scaring me."

I remembered how mad she was about her purse the evening of the football game. And on the phone the other night, she said she'd done something she shouldn't have. I wondered if they were connected somehow.

"Farah, please don't be mad. But you never told me what was in your purse. I wanted to ask again, but I never did. Are you doing drugs?"

"No. No drugs." Her voice was flat.

"What was in your purse?"

She sat up and sniffed, ignoring me. She took a deep breath. "Everything's okay now. I'm done."

She pulled up her left sleeve. Angry red slash marks zigzagged across her forearm.

"Farah! What'd you do?"

"I thought I'd show you my new coping method," she said, bitterness dripping off each word. "Isn't it lovely?"

"You cut yourself?"

"All the rage now. Haven't you heard?"

I grabbed hold of her arm and my stomach plummeted as I noted the tiny rows of scabs. She yanked her sleeve back down. "You don't have to worry. The whole experience sucked."

I grabbed her shoulder. "You can't do it again. Does your mother know?"

"Emili, have you listened to anything I've said?"

"Okay. She doesn't know. Promise me you won't do it again."

She shook off my hand. "I already told you I wouldn't. Didn't see the thrill in it. Besides, I like to show off, making the whole thing self-defeating."

"Farah, what's with you? Of all the girls in the entire school, you're the one who knows what's what. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"Emili, we've only done it a few times."

"You said the other day was your first time."

"I never said it was my first time."

"Farah..."

"Pete said he used protection, so no worries. Interesting you mention it, though. I've been thinking..."

"What?"

"Being pregnant would fry my mom."

"It would fry any mom. You're not seriously considering it, are you?"

"No," she said abruptly. "Course not."

"Then what is it? Because your parents split up?"

"Have you ever felt lost? I mean completely lost."

The closest thing to me feeling lost would be my confusion over Marc and Lance. And somehow, I didn't think it counted. "No."

"Well, lucky for you." She scooted off the bed and stood up. "I'm going home. I've been here way too long. Mom will freak out if I don't show up soon."

"If you need to talk..."

"I don't. I'm fine. It was a temporary blip." Her smile was weak. "You know me, I'm always fine. Like you said, I know what's what."

"You promise about the cutting?"

"I said I wouldn't, didn't I?"

"I mean it, Farah."

"I heard you, and told you I wouldn't. It wasn't such a big deal, anyway."

I completely disagreed, but I said nothing. I stared at her, feeling a huge weight of sadness.

She punched my arm. "Cheer up, Emili. As I said, everything's fine. Quit worrying." She laughed. The pitch of her voice was unnaturally high. "See you Monday."

"Farah, before you go, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

I struggled to get the words out, but if I couldn't ask my best friend, who could I ask? "What was it like?"

Farah raised her eyebrows and shook her head. She sat back down. "The s.e.x? It was great." Her voice had a strange edge, which didn't match her words.

"Truthfully?"

She frowned. "Okay, if you must know, it's weird. And it kinda hurts - I'm not used to it yet, and I don't want to talk about it. But, it makes Pete happy, and I like him a lot, Emili. If it makes him happy, well, then..."

I peered into her eyes. Maybe Pete was happy, but she sure wasn't. And when had I ever known Farah to be interested in whether someone else was happy?

"I gotta go. Later."

"Farah-" I started. She hurried from my room. I watched her go, and the sadness still hovered over me.

I climbed back under my covers. I wanted to sleep for a week.

And have no dreams.

Without my phone, it was impossible to keep up with anything. Maybe Lance had called or texted and was waiting for an answer. I knew how mad I got at Farah when she didn't answer.

When Monday finally came, I hurried into school and saw Lance standing next to his locker. Jennifer Gibbons stood with him - the same girl who was strangely at the drinking fountain every time Lance went near. I again observed her every perfect blonde hair and curve. She'd struck a pose, preening like a princess at the ball. She was also leaning way too close to Lance, which didn't seem to bother him one bit.

"Lance!" I called.

He looked over and waved. He turned back to Jennifer and teasingly pushed her on the back. She walked away but not before glancing back at him with a way-too-friendly-smile. The whole scene appeared awfully cozy to me.

"Cecily! I tried to call you all weekend."

"No phone. Part of my punishment."

"Sorry. How bad was it?"

"Not as bad as I thought. Mom took my phone and gave me a lecture on how disappointed she was."

"When do you get your phone back?"

"Four more days."

He looked at his watch. "And how many minutes?"

"Not sure." I shrugged and hit his arm playfully.

"What did you do all weekend?"

"Slept, studied, sat around. Nothing much. Farah came over."

He stopped moving. "She did? You didn't get in trouble?"

"Hey, this is Farah we're talking about. Of course, she didn't get me in trouble. She sweet talks her way in and out of everything."

He nodded. "Yeah, not surprising."

I studied his face and my mind started in. My jealousy of Farah where Lance was concerned was getting bothersome. Why did I bring her up? Was this some sort of evil self-punishment? I shook my head and faced facts. I was testing him, watching his expressions and voice for clues. Who did he like best - Farah or me?

I knew it was absurd even while I was doing it. Yet I'd do it again. Checking, always checking. Self Torture 101. The bell rang.

"We'd better get going. I'll try to see you later," Lance said. He touched my shoulder and took off.

"See you," I said. My eyes fastened on him walking down the hall. No matter how many times I stared at him, it still gave me delicious tingles up and down my body.

I paused, motionless, enjoying the sensation. And then another image jerked me right out of my dreams and sent cold fingers over my heart. For some reason, the picture of Farah and Lance together rose before me. I shook my head in disgust at my imagination and quickly turned on my heel.

I rushed off in the direction of cla.s.s and spotted Marc. I couldn't catch a break. He looked down at me, his face turning pale. "Okay, awkward moment!" he said. Then he chuckled and his color returned. "How are you, Emili?"

My smile was wobbly. "I'm okay."

"Me, too." He seemed better than okay - he seemed happy.

"I miss you sometimes," I blurted. I felt my face go red. Would I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?

His eyes widened. "Uh - well - thanks."

We stood there for a painful moment, not moving. His eyes narrowed - scrutinizing me. I'd revealed way too much.

"Bye," I said quickly and escaped.

I needed to plaster tape over my mouth. I miss you sometimes. What was my problem? Homeroom was up ahead, and I broke into a run. I hurried into the cla.s.sroom and dove into my seat as the last bell rang.

"What's the rush?" Jeannie asked. "You still had at least a half second left."

"Yeah, whatever," I replied. Like I wanted to sit there and chat it up with Marc's new love interest.