“Clearly, Talia, you’re missing the point.” She let out an exasperated sigh.

Bianca giggled behind her hand. “I think it’s cute,” she said. “And it’s a great First Kiss story.”

Ally clasped her hands together and began dancing around the room, a dreamy smile lighting up her face.

I was happy for her. I really was. She’d wanted a boyfriend for about as long as I’d known her, and I hoped Hunter would treat her well. All the guys vouched for him, so I was certain he would. Still, not counting the time her beloved Pomeranian had to get put down when we were in middle school, I’d never seen Ally heartbroken before, and I didn’t want to.

“Are you going to ask him to the Sweetheart’s Dance?” I said.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Should I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Ally stomped her foot in frustration. “Because I don’t know what any of this means! Okay, so he kissed me. Does this mean we’re official? Or are we just kind of dating but not really together?” She sat beside Bianca and flopped backward onto her bed. “This is just so confusing.”

I looked at Bianca. “Did you have to go through this with Tim?”

She paused, as in thought. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “Well, I mean, not exactly. But he also told me he was in love with me before I kissed him, so I at least knew how he felt about me.”

Ally whimpered and covered her face. “Why are boys’ brains so complicated?”

I thought of Jake and his recent odd behavior, and I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

Bianca was more helpful. “If he kissed you, though, doesn’t that at least imply how he feels about you? I mean, I don’t know him or anything, but does Hunter seem like the type to randomly kiss someone without it meaning anything?”

That seemed to cheer Ally. She sat up, and their discussion shifted to what Ally should wear to the dance (“Of course he’ll go with you,” Bianca had assured her) and whether or not Bianca would go shopping with her to try on dresses. I tuned them out. I couldn’t help it; I had nothing to contribute. I’d have been more interested listening to Ally’s brothers talk about football. I eyed my backpack where I’d left it by the door and contemplated breaking out my homework while they chatted. It wasn’t until Ally tossed a pillow at me that I started paying attention again.

“What’s with you?” she said. “You’re mopier than usual.”

I tried to dodge the question. “Just some stuff.”

Bianca studied me for a second and frowned, concern etched in her brow. “Yeah, you’re hyper mopey. What’s going on, Talia?”

I hesitated. I may have been among my best friends, but there were plenty of things I’d never told them. I knew they’d heard the rumors about why my parents split up years ago. I’d never bothered to correct anyone, though. It was easier that way.

“My dad’s back,” I said at last. “Sort of.”

Ally froze. “The sperm donor?”

Bianca’s eyes were wide with horror. “Ally!”

“What? That’s what she calls him.”

“That doesn’t mean you should.”

“It’s fine,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I don’t care.”

“So what does that mean, anyway?” Ally said. “That he’s back, I mean.”

I sighed. “He wants to get together for some daddy-daughter time next week.” I stared at a spot on the other side of her room. “He was at my house when I came home from school Monday.”

“And you waited until now to tell us?” Ally glared at me. “And I thought you went to Jake’s right after school. Did I miss something? What’s going on here?”

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” I said, ignoring the rest of Ally’s questions. I hugged her pillow to my chest, trying to mask the guilt I felt for not mentioning it while we hung out that night. But I had other stuff on my mind, too. Like Jake and Clover. I shuddered.

“I wonder why he suddenly showed up,” Bianca mused aloud.

“My mom called him.” Their eyes widened, and I explained, “I guess getting remarried meant she had to renegotiate some divorce settlement things.”

“Renegotiate,” Ally repeated. She made a face. “That’s awful. Like you aren’t even human.”

“Ouch!” Bianca said as she elbowed her. “Harsh much?”

“No, she’s right.” I tucked my legs into a lotus position and rested my elbows on my knees. “It’s just weird. Like, he’s been out of my life for so long, you know? I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Bianca said. “You know, to get to know each other again. I mean, none of us are the same people we were in fifth grade.”

Ally scoffed. “I should hope not.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but I’m not even sure I want to know him anymore.”

Neither of them said anything; they just watched me for a while. I cleared my throat. “Hunter seems decent,” I said. “I’m glad your date went well.”

Her face lit up. I’d said the right thing.

“Me, too,” she said, the dreamy smile back on her face. “And hey, if you ask Jake, then we can all go to the dance together!”

“Yeah, right.” I threw her pillow back at her. “Go back to your fantasy world, Katz. I like it here in my reality.”

“He would totally go with you,” she said.

I thought about telling them my suspicions about the amount of time he was spending with Clover but thought better of it. Ally would probably accuse me of being jealous, and that was the furthest thing from the truth. Thankfully, Bianca came to my rescue.

“Leave her alone,” Bianca said. “She’s got a lot going on as it is.”

I smiled, grateful to have someone on my side.

Chapter Fifteen

I spent most of the remainder of the three-day weekend working on my Chicago posters. Two were mostly done but still needed work, especially the Struzan-esque one I really liked, and I only had a few more days to get them right. That was why, in my European history class the following Tuesday, I was sketching in my notebook and only glancing up periodically as I listened to Mr. Jorgensen’s lecture.

“By now, all ships going to and from Great Britain were potential targets,” he said, moving his pointer so that it circled the northern Atlantic Ocean on the map projected onto the screen. “So you see, despite President Wilson’s attempts to stay neutral, the United States’s entry into the war was inevitable.”

Mr. Jorgensen was so engrossed in his lecture on the first World War, he didn’t notice that Mrs. Baker, the principal’s secretary, had entered the room until she stood behind him and cleared her throat. They spoke in hushed voices for a few moments. Mr. Jorgensen paled before he looked at me and said, “Talia, will you please go with Mrs. Baker to the front office?”

I blinked, surprised. I almost asked why I needed to go until I realized he’d called me by my first name, not “Miss Nicoletti.” I felt everyone watching me as I stood, ready to follow the stout woman to the front office. I couldn’t make out any of the whispered murmurs, but I knew my classmates were speculating what egregious violation I’d made to land me a trip to Mr. Hamilton’s office.

My history teacher cleared his throat. “You, er, might want to take your things.”

A few girls gasped, and someone near me snickered, but I didn’t look for the source. An oddly sympathetic look on Mr. Jorgensen’s face kept me from shooting him a nasty glare. Instead, I focused on getting out of the room as quickly as possible. I shoved everything into my backpack and flung it over my shoulder. After a quick nod to Jake and a few wiggled fingers at Bianca, I followed Mrs. Baker into the hallway.

The secretary gave me a sad smile but didn’t say anything as we made our way to the office. I mentally reviewed my activities at school that day. Other than my skunk stripe — now a bright tangerine color — I’d been a model student. I’d arrived early to school and turned in all my homework. I wasn’t even wearing combat boots, something I’d lamented during my morning trek to homeroom since my sneakers were doing little to keep my feet dry in the pouring rain.