"How about this one?" Liz held up a silky dark blue dress with thin little straps. It looked sort of like a nightgown or something. "That's a definite ten on the man-o-meter," Alex said.

"Whatever this man-o-meter is, don't show it to me," Maria mumbled.

Alex ignored her. He was imagining that silky stuff under his fingers. The material was so thin, he'd be able to feel the warmth of Isabel's skin through the cloth. Isabel. Oh, man. He was doing it again. He had given himself strict orders not to think about Isabel, but she kept popping into his head.

Forget about her, he told himself. Remember what she called you-a pathetic wanna-be. She didn't even bother to wait for you to get all the way out of the gym before she started making fun of you with Stacey.

But there was something about Isabel, something about the way she looked at him while they were talking.… There was an attraction between them, a connection. Alex couldn't believe she was quite as cold as she seemed. If they could just get away from her little cheerleader clique and all their crap, he had a feeling something could develop between them.

"So are you going to try it on?" Maria asked Liz.

Liz checked the price tag and grimaced. She showed it to Maria. "I think we're in the wrong store."

"Let's try the Clothes Barn," Maria suggested.

Alex led the way out of the store. He took a deep breath of the nonperfumed air. The smells of the mall's food court filled his nose-chocolate cookies mixing with chow mein, tacos, and fries. Much better.

"You know, we've been sort of selfish," Maria said to Liz. "Alex is going to the dance, too. He might need us to help him with a little shopping. I'm seeing a collarless shirt and-"

"Don't even think about it," Alex warned them. "I'm not a Just My Size Ken doll."

"Alex, you're seventeen years old. It's time to explore fabrics beyond flannel and denim," Liz put in.

"I wear other stuff. I wear cotton. And… what sweatpants are made of-I wear that."

Maria grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him down the walkway. "Macy's is right over there, just waiting for you."

Alex spotted Michael Guerin and Max Evans heading toward them. "Guys!" he yelled in relief. "Hey, guys, you have to help me." He broke away from Maria and hurried over to them. "The makeover mafia has me in their clutches."

"They do look pretty dangerous," Michael said as Liz and Maria joined the group.

"They're trying to use force to make me stop wearing flannel," Alex complained.

He expected Maria to jump in and try to get Max and Michael on her side. But she'd suddenly gotten quiet. Liz, too. What was up with them? They were never quiet.

"Don't let them, man," Michael answered. "If they can't accept you as you are, just walk away. Right, Max?"

"Every American has the right to wear flannel," Max answered. He leaned over the railing and stared into the fountain in the lower level. It was obvious he didn't really feel like talking.

Alex didn't know Max that well, but he'd always seemed like a cool guy. Alex wouldn't mind asking him a couple of questions about Isabel, something that would help him figure her out.

Maybe her brother would know which Isabel was real-the Isabel who had flirted with Alex and acted like she was totally enjoying herself? Or the Isabel who had cut him down behind his back?

"What is it with chicks?" Michael asked. "They can have a guy who's crazy about them, but that's not good enough. They have to get in there and start changing things. Guys don't do that. Max, you like Liz just the way she is, right?"

There was a strange little silence.

Liz shot Michael a look that said "back off" loud and clear. Alex frowned. What was going on with everyone? Liz wasn't usually so touchy.

"I mean, you'd never tell her what to wear," Michael amended, avoiding Liz's eyes.

"Liz looks good in everything," Max answered. He pushed himself away from the rail and turned back to face the group. "You even looked cute in that dress you hated, the goofy one with the cupcakes on it."

"You remember that?" Liz cried. "I hated that dress so much, but my abuelita gave it to me, so my parents were always making me wear it."

"I don't remember it. What grade was that?" Maria asked.

Liz thought about it a second. "Kindergarten. I remember Ms. Gliden let me wear one of the finger-painting smocks when I had to wear the dress to school. She was so nice. She…" Liz's voice trailed off.

Maria was frowning. "But Max wasn't in your kindergarten class, was he?" she asked.

Liz turned to Max. "I have to talk to you alone. Right now." She strode away from the group. Max hesitated a moment, then followed her.

Another strange little silence. Maria had gone pale.

"All righty, then," Alex muttered.

"I have to buy some nail polish," Maria blurted. "I'll meet you at the food court." She rushed toward the escalator.

Alex looked at Michael and shrugged. "You want to get some food?" he asked.

"I can always eat," Michael answered.

Liz and Maria must have popped a few psycho pills when I wasn't looking, Alex thought as he and Michael headed down the walkway. I hope they wear off fast.

"Don't even think about it," Isabel snarled at the perfume sample guy before he could spray her. She usually avoided this entrance to Macy's. It was like trying to maneuver through a minefield of perfume bombs. The smell of all the scents-flowery, spicy, fruity, powdery-made her stomach turn over.

"Hey, he was kind of a cutie," Tish protested.

Isabel glanced over her shoulder. "He's too bulky and bulgy. Look at those veins popping out on his neck."

"I thought you loved that muscle beach look." Tish held her wrist out to a pale woman in a white smock, who delicately spritzed her with a floral scent.

"I must be maturing. Guys like that seem a little too obvious to me now," Isabel said. "Besides, who wants a guy who spends more hours in the gym than he does with you?"

Yeah, that's it, Isabel thought. It didn't have anything to do with the memory of the way Alex's lean body felt pressed up against hers in their dream dance.

"I like it," Tish said. "I still say he's cute."

"You think everyone is cute," Isabel shot back.

"Pretty much everyone has something cute about them, even if it's just one little thing," Tish insisted. "Like that guy by the glove counter. Bad clothes, bad hair, bad skin-"

"Bad personal hygiene," Isabel cut in.

"But look at his mouth." Tish grabbed Isabel's chin and turned her head toward the guy. "Look at those big, cushy lips. Yum."

"Okay, what about him?" Isabel jerked her head toward a pudgy guy who would probably be calling the Hair Club for Men about a year after grad.

"How can you even ask?" Tish exclaimed. "Look at his butt. Pure Charmin. Don't you just want to squeeze it?"

"Uh, not really," Isabel answered. She scanned the crowd, then smiled. "Okay, I've got a tough one for you-over there by the Lancome counter."

Tish glanced over and started making gagging noises. "It's the Anticute. Let's get out of here. We see Stacey way too much at school."

"I want to talk to her," Isabel said.

"Is-a-bel." Tish said her name in a long whine.

"Come on." Isabel sauntered toward Stacey. She didn't bother to check and see if Tish was following her. Tish always followed Isabel.

"Hey, Stacey, looking for a lipstick to go with your lavender dress?" Isabel asked.

Stacey whirled toward them.

Tish gasped. "What happened to your face?" she exclaimed.

"I had this horrible dream, and I kept scratching myself in my sleep," Stacey admitted. She ran her fingers over one of the long red scratches covering her face.