The lobby gleams and shines, despite the loud teens now loitering about and sprawling on velvet sofas and armchairs. Add a few video-game consoles, TVs, and a soda machine, and we’d make ourselves right at home. Soon the chaperones turn over the distribution of the keys to Jamie and Josh, our trip leaders, and they wander toward the fireplace to warm up while we get sorted out. Jamie and Josh group us together. Two beds in a room, four girls or four guys to a room. Again I hold myself apart, wanting to disappear from this trip where escape into the woods or even my car is impossible.

I needn’t have bothered.

Some of the guys, including Blake, wander off, but a lot of the others stick around, even after they have their keys. A sly silence spreads, and looks bounce between Jamie and me. More rooms are assigned and I do the math in my head. There are twenty-one girls: five still await their room keys, including Jamie.

Jamie gives me a smug smile, and I wince. Then she points to Janet Chou. “You can room with me. And you,” she adds, pointing to Amery Hoffmeyer.

Danielle Alcala and I are the last ones standing. Of course, Danielle is Jamie’s friend. Jamie makes a production of putting the tip of her finger to her lips, playing to her audience. Everyone watches, and my eyes burn with embarrassment.

Finally, she shakes her head, oozing pity. “I don’t know, Quinn. I’m not sure I want to share a room with you. I mean, have you had your shots?” She takes a step toward me and drops her voice just enough to go unnoticed by the chaperones. “Who knows what I could catch from bed-jumping trash like you?”

Right. Now my whore cooties can spread through close contact.

I roll my eyes.

Jamie’s eyes narrow and she calls out too loudly, “OMG, Mrs. Peringue, we have too many girls! I think Quinn is going to be sleeping in the lobby.” She waits for the teacher to join us before adding in her sweetest voice, “Unless someone wants to volunteer to let her sleep on their floor?”

Twenty seconds. That’s how long they stare at me, letting me hang.

Finally Angel makes a move to step forward, but Nikki grabs her arm. That’s all it takes for Angel to back down, refusing to meet my eyes. Nikki covers her smile with a fist. Clearly enjoying the situation, Josh grins. And the whole time Mrs. Peringue stands there, wringing her hands and doing nothing.

With a little shrug, Jamie says, “Oh well, Quinnie. I tried.”

I want to punch her in the face. I hate her. I hate them. I really wish I hated them all.

Mr. Horowitz finally steps in and asks what’s going on. He takes charge of the situation. Jamie is on ten, playing teacher’s pet. Horowitz listens to her explain how I was a last minute addition and there simply isn’t a room for me. I can actually feel myself sinking into the ground, a gelatinous blob of humiliation.

“Well, Jamie, I can see only one solution. Since you’re such good friends with these ladies”—he gestures to Nikki and Angel—“you can take a cot in their room. You won’t mind Quinn taking your spot, now will you?”

The last part does not come out like a question. Crossing his arms, Mr. Horowitz waits for her to slap her key in my palm, and then orders us all to our rooms. “Get some sleep, people. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

As I pass him, I mutter, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says.

In the elevator, I shift my duffel to my other shoulder and analyze my feet while people straggle in around me. Someone’s feet face mine, and her breath crosses my face, smelling of red hot gum.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Jamie says. Rage boils her low whisper until it blisters my skin. I wish the doors would close already because then I’d be that much closer to getting in a room away from her.

“Nothing to say?” she prods. “No? I guess we all know you’re better on your back.”

That hurts, but I can deal. It’s just more of the same from her.

I ignore her, and she adds, “You’re just like your mother. I bet if Carey had a brother you would’ve slept with him, too.”

Bull’s-eye. Blake is Carey’s brother in all the ways that matter.

Shocked, I hiss a breath and a cold sweat pops up on my skin. Maybe I really am my mother’s daughter when it comes to using people. What if everyone figures it out? Figures out Carey’s secret? Does she suspect it’s Blake in the picture? What will happen to him then? What will happen to Carey’s family?

Worse, I can’t even defend myself; it’s hard to argue with truth.

I tremble and sway on my feet, and Jamie knows she’s finally gotten to me. Her eyes glow like light hitting a polished trophy.

The elevator doors begin to slide closed, locking me into this nightmare. Like a coward, I tuck my tail between my legs and shove past the others to slide back into the lobby. I am completely horrified when a sob claws out of my throat.

They hear it. She hears it. She laughs, and I bleed.

*   *   *

Last July, my only concerns had been waiting for Carey’s leave in August and keeping Nikki out of trouble so she didn’t get kicked off the squad for what Coach Breen called “inappropriate behavior.” Coach meant the drinking, the boy-chasing, the mean-girl rep, and every other clichéd cheerleader behavior TV had used to label us. Nikki, of course, took the rules as a challenge. For some reason I never understood, she liked to press up to the point of no return without actually crossing over.

One summer day after a grueling practice, we swooped into Angel’s house, hot, sweaty, and tired.