I look at Elaine, but she just shrugs and smiles. She reaches for a can, opens it, and takes a swig. Elaine grimaces, but then she drinks more.

“All right!” Mairi cheers. They high-five, and Hadley frowns. She grabs a can and takes a long drink, throwing her head back. Coughing, she throws a can to Jo Jo. Jo Jo looks uncertain for a moment, then follows suit. Everyone’s laughing and drinking, and I just sit on Mairi’s bed, arms wrapped around my knees, trying to make myself invisible.

Then Mairi looks at me, her glossy lips curved in a smile. “Your turn, Annemarie.” It’s a direct challenge, and every one of us knows it.

The last thing I want to do is drink. I’ve tasted beer before. It was late at night. I was thirsty, and I thought it was flat ginger ale. It tasted like bad medicine. No way do I want to drink that stuff again. No way do I want to be like Mama.

Every other girl in the room is staring at me, including Elaine. “What’s the matter, sugar?” Mairi taunts. “Too chicken?”

Swallowing, I say, “No … I just don’t feel well today. It’d probably be better if I laid off alcohol.”

“Like you ever drink,” Hadley scoffs, waving her Pretty in Pink nails in the air.

“I do so drink. I just don’t feel like it tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “Sure.” She runs her hand through her streaky brown curls, searching for split ends. She won’t find any. Girls like Hadley don’t get split ends.

“Annemarie, you don’t have to drink if you don’t feel like it,” Elaine says. But her eyes are saying something else, and I can tell she wants me to. She wants me to be a part of the group almost as much as I want to be a part of it, and for some reason, this makes me mad. Why does she need this so bad? Why wasn’t it enough when it was just me and her?

Mairi puts her arm around me. Her buttery blond hair smells like apples and Dove soap. “Hadley, it’s okay if Annemarie doesn’t want to drink. She’s still too young.” She releases me and smiles knowingly at the other girls.

“It’s not that,” I protest.

“Then?” She holds the beer in front of me, arm outstretched. “Come on.”

Slowly I take the can from her. It is cold and sweaty. “Just a little sip then … Seriously guys, I don’t feel good.” Now I really do feel sick. The smell of the beer and the nail polish remover makes my stomach turn.

I put the top of the can to my lips and drink. It tastes bitter, and I feel hollow, like someone’s spooned my insides out like a gourd. I wish I could spit it back out, take that moment back, do it over.

Everyone claps, and Mairi turns her stereo on loud. It’s already forgotten. It never mattered in the first place. The girls start dancing around, and I sit on Mairi’s bed watching them. Not one of them understands. They have no idea.

That night Hadley and Mairi sleep in one of the twin beds, and Elaine and I sleep in the other. Jo Jo sleeps on the cot.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep, but I do.

I wake up the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of Mrs. Stevenson shrieking. She’s brought us a pitcher of orange juice, and she’s found the empty cans of Budweiser. We forgot to throw them away; they’re just lying there on the floor for all the world to see.

Everyone scrambles out of bed. “Mama, we were just playing around, we didn’t really drink any,” Mairi says.

“Don’t you lie to me, Mairi Leigh. And to think your father and I trusted you. We trusted you girls to conduct yourselves as ladies, even with us gone.” She shakes her head at us, and then her eyes land on me. Her thin lips tighten. “Girls, get dressed. I won’t be telling your parents about this. We’ll keep it our little secret, but this can never happen again, do you understand?”

Eyes lowered, we all murmur yes ma’am, we understand. Except for Elaine, who’s from the North and never says sir or ma’am to anybody. “You, miss, are coming with me.” She grabs Mairi’s arm and marches her out of the room.

The rest of us stare at one another helplessly. “You think she’ll tell our parents?” Jo Jo says, biting her lip. We sink back down onto the beds. Without Mairi, we don’t know what to do.

Hadley’s the first to recover. “No way. She cares too much about what the other country clubbers will think. She’d die if they found out.”

“Are you sure?” Jo Jo asks.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps. “Now let’s just get dressed and get out of here.”

My mind is on that bacon. Mrs. Stevenson makes an incredible sleepover breakfast—bacon, sausage, eggs, pecan waffles. Restaurant-quality food. If I can smell bacon, she must have made all the other stuff too, Mairi’s diet be damned. My mouth waters and I say, “But what about breakfast?”

Hadley looks at me like I’m the village idiot. “We’re not staying for breakfast.”

Chapter 34

During lunch Jack got into a fight with an eighth grader. There was chocolate pudding everywhere. He got out-of-school suspension, and his mother had to come pick him up from school. I watched from the window in science class. I saw them walking to their car. Mrs. Connelly was wiping tears from her eyes, and Jack looked miserable. I felt sorry for him.

It’s Jack’s third fight this school year, and we’re barely even halfway through. I really don’t understand him. If he’d quit getting into fights and talking back to teachers, maybe he’d actually learn something.

After school I ride my bike over to Jack’s with his assignments for the week. I only volunteered to do it because no one else came forward. And also, I feel sort of guilty for not sticking up for him at Mairi’s sleepover. Not that he would ever find out about it, and not that I have any reason to stick up for him, but it was wrong of me not to say something. On behalf of his mama, at least. I could’ve told them that she doesn’t work at a diner; she works at a steakhouse. And his daddy’s in AA, which means he’s not even a drunk anymore. I could’ve and should’ve said both those things, but instead I kept my mouth shut like a yellow-bellied coward.

When I pass Mark’s house, he’s shooting hoops in the driveway. I wave. It’s the first time I’ve seen him at home in a long while. I’m really not planning on stopping, but he comes over to me. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off even though it’s pretty cold out. “What are you up to?” Mark asks, dribbling the ball with his left hand.

“Going over to Jack’s house.”

He pushes his hair out of his eyes and squints at me. “Oh yeah? You guys have tutoring today?”

“No, I’m just bringing his homework to him.”

“I can’t believe he was stupid enough to get into another fight. Sometimes he’s a real idiot.” He dribbles the basketball between his legs. “You wanna play Horse?”

“Nah, I gotta drop this off at Jack’s.”

“Aw, come on, just one game.”

We end up playing four games, and by the time we’re done, it’s getting dark. I’m regretting volunteering to bring Jack his work for the week. Things feel so normal between Mark and me, and the last thing I feel like doing is trekking all the way over to Jack’s house. Still, I gave my word.

Then I think of that sad look on Trish’s face, and I pedal extra hard.

Jack answers the door. When I see his black eye, I don’t even feel sorry for him. I just feel mad. I’d like to blacken his other eye.

“Here.” I shove the stack of papers at him, hard.

“Thanks.” He looks at me, and with his eyes he says it again, thanks.

Shaking my head, I say, “You know, you can’t keep getting into fights over stupid stuff.”

“Are you here to give me my homework or to nag me?”

“I’m just trying to help. You’re gonna get really behind if you keep this up, Jack.”

“That’s my problem.”

“It’s my problem too, when I’m the one tutoring you! Sometimes you act like an idiot!”

Redness is creeping up his neck, and he says, “I’m really not in the mood for this today, okay? I feel bad enough already, I don’t need you reminding me of what an idiot I am.” His voice breaks.

I look away. I wish I was still playing Horse in Mark’s driveway. “I said you act like an idiot, I didn’t say you were one.”

“My mom says that if I get into another fight, I’m gonna have to go and live with my dad.” Baby tears are forming in the corners of his eyes, and he scratches at them like they itch. I look away again. Never thought I’d see Jack Connelly cry. I want to say the right thing, but what is the right thing?

I say, “Shoulda thought of that before you went and got into another fight.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, and it’s so unlike him that I feel sorry, really sorry. I say, “Hey, let’s study for that quiz, okay?”

“I don’t really feel like it today,” he says, his hand on the door. “But thanks for bringing my work.”

“Aw, come on, Jack.”

He shakes his head and shuts the door. And I’m left standing there, feeling like a real crumb.

Chapter 35

The call comes that night, and as usual, I’m the one to pick up the phone. I swear, you’d think I was the only one in the family with hands.

“Hello?”

“Is that you, Annemarie honey?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“It’s Mrs. Findley, sweetheart. Is your mother home?”

“My mother?”

“Yes, dear. Is she at home?”

“Uh.” What in the world could Mrs. Findley have to say to my mother? And furthermore, what would Mama say to Mrs. Findley? I am tempted to say no, Mrs. Findley, Mama’s left the state and has no plans of returning. Ever. “Yes, ma’am, just a moment.”

Phone in hand, I sprint to the living room where Mama’s lying down. “Phone for you, Mama.” Her eyes remain closed.

“It’s Mrs. Findley,” I hiss.

Mama holds her hand out for the phone, and she doesn’t open her eyes. “Hi, Helen,” she says. “What can I do for you? I’m fine, thank you. Mmmhmm. Oh, I see. Well, yes, Billy probably will be away on business. But I’m sure I can make it. I’m always happy to help. … Yes, you too, Helen.” Mama clicks the phone off.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “What did Mrs. Findley want?”

Mama opens her eyes and says, “I’m going to help chaperone your dance.”

WHAT? This time my heart really does stop beating.

She smiles tiredly. “There, aren’t you pleased? Your mama’s joinin’ in and doin’ mamalike things. Next thing you know, I’ll be headin’ up the PTA.”

“I’m not even going to that dance,” I say. “So thanks but no thanks.”

Her smile fades. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re going to the dance.”

“No, I’m not. Dances are stupid. I’m not going.”

Flatly she says, “You’re going, Annemarie.”

In my head I think, Not if I can help it. But I’m smart enough not to say it out loud.

Chapter 36

At the lunch table Mairi asks me if my parents are getting divorced. She says her mother told her that my daddy was looking to get his own apartment in Atlanta.

I pretend not to hear her. I concentrate on eating my tuna fish sandwich, like it’s the most important thing in the world, but inside it feels like something in me is breaking. Then she says, louder, “Annemarie, is it true your parents are getting divorced?”

It’s like the cafeteria has gone silent, and all I hear is buzzing in my ears. In that moment, it’s just Mairi and me. There’s no one else at that table, just me and her. I feel like a skinny brown rabbit under Mairi’s paw, and there’s no way out.

Everyone stares at me. Even Elaine.

At times like these, you realize just how alone you are in this world.

I chew slowly, then finally say, “No. No, that’s not true.” My voice sounds quivery and weak, and I hate it. I hate everyone at this table. “They’re crazy about each other. They’re completely in love. Tell your mother to mind her own damn business.”

Mairi’s mouth falls open. “My mother says that your mother’s a drunk, and that’s why your father’s leaving,” she blurts out.

“Shut up. Shut your fat mouth. She’s not your real mother anyway; your real mother didn’t even want you.”

Hadley gasps, and I almost gasp too. I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. Mairi’s gaping like a dying fish; her mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. Her blue eyes look shiny, like she might actually cry. There, I’ve done it now. I’ve committed social suicide. I’m done for.

Shaking, I stand up and crumble my lunch bag into a tight ball. And then I walk away. I think I may have given up my seat at the lunch table for good.

Later that night, Elaine calls me.

“Mairi was way out of line,” she says.

I don’t say a word.

“We all thought so. After you left I told her she shouldn’t have said it.”

Silence from my end.

“I’m sorry, Annemarie. I should’ve said something right away; I was just so surprised. I mean, you never mentioned anything. …” Her voice trails off.

“That’s because it’s not true. Mairi Stevenson is a damn liar, and so is her mother.” My voice breaks. “Everybody knows that Mrs. Stevenson’s a liar.”