I freeze, my knee poised over the table, ready to launch into Stella’s smirking lap. Knowing they’ll never let me actually get away with throttling her at the dinner table I lower back into my seat.

“What is this about?” Mom asks once I’ve calmed down.

“Why don’t you ask the ice queen over there?” I snap.

Stella schools her features into a look of pure innocence. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, girls,” Mom begins. “Whatever’s bothering you, it will be better if you talk it out. We will all be living in the same house for the next year, and—”

“Nine months.” I think it’s important to be clear when it comes to details.

That earns me a mom look. “There is always a period of adjustment when families combine.”

“Her face could use an adjustment.”

“Phoebe,” Mom gasps.

Stella crosses her arms across her chest and raises one eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Stella,” Damian warns, “do not make the situation worse.”

“Damian,” Mom says, moving behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. “Why don’t we leave the girls alone for a few minutes,” she suggests. “I’m sure they would rather discuss their problem without an audience.”

Damian looks like he wants to argue, but lets Mom lead him to the kitchen anyway. Just before they disappear out the back door, he looks over his shoulder and gives Stella a stern look that clearly says, “Work this out. Now.”

Hey, I was willing to forgive and—well, not forgive, but forget anyway. But she has to keep throwing it in my face with the whole I’m-so-full-on-my-latte thing.

“I have no idea what your problem is,” she says, casually taking a sip of her water. “Your attitude is really quite awful.”

“My attitude?” I gasp. “You’re the one who—”

“Still crying the same old song, Phoebe? Let it go.”

“Let it go?” She is so full of—

I stand up slowly and calmly and say in as steady a voice as possible, “Listen. You made that awful bet with Adara. You tricked me into helping you win that awful bet. You let me believe—”

Oh no, I can feel the tears tightening up my throat. Not good. I take a calming breath. I’ve decided on brutal honesty at this point, there’s no stopping now.

“I actually started to believe that Griffin liked me—me, the lowly little nothos—when no one else in your high and mighty cliques would do more than look at me with scorn.” I blink against the tears now filling my eyes. “And the worst part is that I was actually starting to like him, the real him. Or at least what I thought was the real him. And come to find out he was only playing a part, too.”

That’s what hurts the most. Not the bet or the deal or any of that. It’s that they’re right about me. I really am so weak that I would fall for a guy who’d done nothing but treat me like scum since I got to this stupid school without even putting up much of a fight.

I’m pathetic, and that’s what really hurts.

“Phoebe,” Stella says, an unnatural softness to her usually icy voice.

I’m prepared for a scathing comment.

Instead, she walks around the table to stand right in front of me, and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much—” She shakes her head and starts again. “I know how much unrequited love can hurt. If I had known you had any real feeling for him . . .”

I am floored beyond belief. Stella is exhibiting real honest-togoodness sympathy, an emotion I believed her incapable of.

That, and she’s apologized.

I almost feel like checking out the windows for flying pigs.

“If it helps any,” she says quietly, “it wasn’t my idea.”

“It doesn’t,” I say, mostly because I’m not surprised. Sure Stella’s right up there with the evil bi’atches in history, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Adara.

“And I don’t think Griffin—”

“No,” I interrupt, not wanting to even hear his name. I’d rather forgive Stella. I still have to live with her. “Look, I—I accept your apology. Just don’t mention him again, okay?”

Then, to my total shock and amazement, Stella pulls me into a big hug. At first I’m kinda startled and I just stand there, awkward. Eventually I realize she’s waiting for me to participate, so I lift up my arms and pat her gently on the back.

Apparently that’s enough because she releases me and steps back.

“Just don’t think this is going to change our relationship. I still don’t like you.” Her eyes are shining a little brighter than usual.

“Right back at ya.”

I’m blinking in astonishment at the fact that she’s wiping away tears when Damian and Mom walk back in.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” Stella says, moving back to her chair.

Mom looks at me, her eyes questioning. I shrug and take my seat. I don’t have any more of a clue about what happened than she does. I have a feeling, though, there won’t be any more bets made on my anticipated behavior in the near future. And I guess that’s all any girl can ask for.

“This is our last practice before the big meet. No practice tomorrow, so I expect you all to rest up and eat complex carbs. On Friday