I’ll have to take his word for it. “Okay. But I need to get some mustard for my pretzel.”

Eyes follow me as I cross the room, and I have an urge to jump up on a table and scream “food fight!” or something stupid so I’ll actually deserve the looks.

When I make my way back to Jackson’s table, I stop when I hear the hushed voices.

“Dude, seriously,” the boy with the jersey says. “I get you like the charity shit and all, but you don’t need to drag us into it.”

I stop around two feet short, unsure of what to do. No one looks at me.

Jackson stands, leans forward, and puts his hands on the table. “When I say she’s cool, I’m not just blowing smoke. She hasn’t even spoken a word and you want nothing to do with her. What does that say about you?”

“That I’m human, dude,” the football player says, sending a glance across the room.

I follow his gaze and see a group of kids watching us. The cool kids, maybe? Is there really such a thing?

Then the football player sees me. His eyes flicker to mine and grow larger, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Guys,” Jackson says. He hasn’t seen me behind him, and that fills me with a warmth that takes me by surprise. He’s not saying these things for my sake. He means every word. “You can’t listen to these rumors. She’s just the new girl. What does it matter?”

“How do you know they’re just rumors? Maybe she really is a drug addict or just got out of juvie,” the dragon T-shirt kid says.

“Yeah, and maybe she was abducted by aliens, or the Soviets. Maybe she’s really a Russian spy.” He straightens his shoulders. “Besides, didn’t you go to juvie last year?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Yeah. So worst case, she’s just like you.” He looks around the table. “Like all of us.”

His friends are silent at that. What would they say if they knew those “rumors” are just watered-down versions of the truth? If they knew that the things they’ve done pale in comparison to my past? If they knew I was really a hooker…well, let’s just say his friends might have every right to look at me like I’m Bigfoot.

I make up my mind then. I turn and walk away. I’ll see Jackson later. I’m not sure what he wants out of this, what he expects to get for being so nice to me, but I need to get out of there before things get worse.

When I look back, Jackson’s watching me go, a look on his face that I hate. Sadness. So I wave and smile to let him know it’s okay. He cocks his head, confused, but nods, seems to get that the world hasn’t ended just because his friends were jerks.

I find a table in the middle of the cafeteria that’s empty. I sit and pick at my pretzel and sip on my Gatorade and pretend I’m fine being alone. But then a tray clinks down in front of me, and I see a girl sitting across from me.

She smirks. “Do you mind?”

I shake my head. She sits and dips an odd-looking crinkly french fry into a cup of ketchup. She’s pretty, but the kind of pretty that tries to hide it. Choppy short hair, dark eyeliner, and an eyebrow piercing.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Alex.”

“Oh, hi Alex,” I say.

She waves goofily.

She looks too old to be a freshman. Maybe even my age. “What grade are you?” I ask. I’ll be jealous if she’s a senior. That should be me. Except, you know, I’m technically stuck in the ninth grade.

“That’s up for debate.” She smirks.

I blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sort of a junior, but most likely I won’t graduate with that class.”

“Why’s that?”

She shrugs and bites off a piece of one of her odd-looking fries. “Failed a few important classes.”

“Like what?”

“Like gym,” she says and laughs.

I’m oblivious. I have no clue if she’s joking or not. “Gym? Isn’t that a ninth-grade class?” I’m surprised I haven’t seen her in gym with me.

“No. I mean yes, I’m in a freshman gym class because I’ve skipped a few too many times the last two years. But no, it’s not one of those important classes. You only need two of them to graduate.”

“Oh.” Guess I just don’t know how this all works.

“I failed English freshman year. I want to just leave, but my parents won’t let me drop out. I figure if I fail enough classes, they’ll just give up and let me get my GED.”

That never even occurred to me. All I have to do is give up on good grades and I’ll get out of here for good?

“Maybe I should go that route, too,” I say.

She nods.

I see a girl walking slowly down the side aisle close to us with a tray in her hand. I recognize her. She’s Jen, the girl who’s supposed to tutor me. She looks even shier out here in the wild than she did in the library—which is saying something.

“That’s Jen,” Alex says, head lowered like it’s a secret or something. “She slept with Marissa Larson’s boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, so now everyone hates her.”

That sounds familiar. But looking at this lanky shy girl, shuffling her feet, I can’t imagine she’s very much like me.

“Everyone?” I ask.

“Well, almost everyone. Marissa is Miss Popular and thinks she owns the school. Unfortunately, she kind of does. If anyone even thinks about being Jen’s friend, Marissa and her friends make their life hell. Which apparently scares everyone enough that they won’t talk to her. Losers.”

“Who’s Marissa?” I ask quickly.

Alex stands and looks around for a moment, then points to a table toward the front of the cafeteria. “Curly brown locks,” she says.

I stand to see. There’s a group of girls and boys about my age, the same ones Jackson’s friends seemed nervous about. Yeah, definitely the cool kids. How lame is that?

I recognize Marissa from the “curly brown locks” Alex described her by. She’s sitting next to the girl who said that nasty thing about Jackson this morning.

“So what, they’re like the popular kids?”

Alex snorts. “Hell no. They’re just mean to everyone and it makes them think they’re cool.”

Jen’s slow steps bring her past our table. Her head’s down. I guess she doesn’t expect to find help any time soon. Is it like this every day? I notice a hint of red in her eyes as she finally passes us.

Screw this. I stand. “Hey, Jen!”

The shy girl whips around so fast her apple falls off her lunch tray.

I smile and look down at the empty chair beside me. “You can sit here,” I say.

Alex’s eyes grow wide, but I see a hint of a smile.

Jen pauses. She looks at me, then at Alex. Then her eyes dart to the “popular” table and she says, “Are you sure?”

“Can’t get much worse for me.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she says, but she sits anyway.

Alex no longer hides her smile.

The lanky girl looks down at her plate. She doesn’t eat any of it. “You’re coming to my house after school, right?” I ask her. She’s supposed to come every day after school, but yesterday I wouldn’t leave my room, so my parents canceled the appointment. Good times.

“I didn’t realize you knew each other,” Alex says.

Jen takes in a deep breath and drinks a small sip of her milk. “I’m her tutor.”

Alex raises her eyebrows, and I just shrug. Is it embarrassing that I need a tutor? I think I’ve got bigger problems than that.

After a few moments of silence, Alex asks Jen, “Was it good at least?”

“What?” I ask, but Jen’s wide eyes give me a pretty good clue. Alex just raises one thin eyebrow.

“I was drunk, he wasn’t.”

Apparently this wasn’t what Alex expected to hear. She doesn’t speak.

Of course, it wasn’t what I expected to hear either, but I guess you don’t have to go to New York for a guy to take advantage of you.

I find myself looking over at Jackson’s table. He glances at me, just long enough to catch my eyes and smile, like he’s checking up on me.

The popular kids are watching us with hate in their eyes, Marissa especially. I have a feeling I made the wrong kind of enemy here. But it kind of feels good, to be honest. I’m not a victim anymore. I chose this. I’m in control here.