“So what really happened?”

“Nothing,” I said. “He totally singled me out for no reason.”

He raised his eyebrows. “None at all?”

I kicked his shoe again before I said, “I may have been, like, half a minute late.” I paused. “And it’s possible I was texting Ally during announcements.” Jake snickered, and I said, “What? It’s not like I haven’t done worse.”

“You bend the rules,” he said, lifting his shoulder. “I get it.”

I crouched down beside him, careful to pull my skirt over my knees as I grabbed the back of his chair to steady myself. “So what’s up? Are you okay?”

He was still for a second, and I wondered if he’d heard me until he hung his head and shook it. “Not really.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “We broke up. And I think it’s for good.”

It took a moment to process what he’d just said. At first I thought he was talking about him and Clover, or maybe some other girlfriend I didn’t know about, but as soon as I realized he meant Ephemera, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Ephemera had been his world for the last couple of years. We all thought they’d be one of those bands that started in high school, stayed together forever, and went on to be huge.

“What happened?”

Jake shook his head again. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. I just know Keith and Zack had it out late last night.” He began rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb, something he did whenever I held his hand while he was nervous or scared about something. “Keith told me this morning. I guess it was pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry.” It pained me to see him like this. He was sullen and despondent, not at all his usual self.

“Clover thinks it’s for the best,” he said, and I froze at the sound of her name. I’d always been the first person Jake would turn to about stuff like this. Since when had she become his main confidante?

“Show some hustle, Mr. Miller,” Mr. Jorgensen called to someone from the open door at the front of the class as the bell rang. I hurried to my desk and slid into my seat as a lanky classmate loped into the room. “I’ve seen you on the basketball court, Shawn,” Mr. Jorgensen said to him. “I know you can move faster than that.”

My lip involuntarily curled up in a sneer. Mr. Jorgensen was usually way more relaxed and didn’t reprimand people for tardies and stuff unless they were excessive. It was almost as if he’d woken up that morning with a resolve to hand out as many detentions as he could that day.

It took a few minutes for the class to settle down, and then our teacher launched into his lecture. It began with a quick review of the nineteenth century, mostly stuff on the last semester’s midterm exams, and by the time he started covering new material on the twentieth century, my brain automatically tuned him out. It was pure luck that I heard the question he directed toward me.

“And the result of the built-up tension related to this resurgence of imperialism through the European powers was what, Miss Nicoletti?” He stared at me as though his sharp, hawklike gaze could look into my brain and know what I was thinking.

I wracked my brain and blurted out the first early twentieth century event I could think of. “Um, World War I?”

“Correct.” His mouth curved downward ever so slightly, as if he was disappointed he didn’t catch me daydreaming. I exhaled quickly through my nose, feeling annoyed. Hadn’t he busted me enough already today?

“That will be our focus for the month,” Mr. Jorgensen said to the class. “The Great War, as it was called, lasted four years. I think we can devote at least four weeks to studying it.”

I raised my hand, and my teacher stilled before calling on me. “I thought World War I started because some Russian prince got shot.”

Mr. Jorgensen smiled in that indulgent way teachers did when talking to an exceptionally dense student. “No, no,” he said. “Not a prince. Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria was of Prussian descent, not Russian.” He practically smirked when he corrected me. “And no, though some people cite his assassination as the catalyst for Austria-Hungary’s declaration of war against Serbia, it was really nationalism and imperialist policies that, over time, caused tensions to reach that proverbial boiling point.” He glanced around the class. “That will be on the test.”

I nodded as if I understood, and he turned his attention to other students. Since I’d already been called on to answer one of his questions and had followed it up with an obligatory one of my own, it was doubtful Mr. Jorgensen would call on me again that period. After a quick glance over my shoulder at Jake, I tuned out my history teacher’s droll, monotone voice and let my thoughts drift to Clover, wondering how she’d heard about Ephemera’s split before I did.

Chapter Four

“But, Mom,” I whined into my phone as I walked toward the cafeteria, “he completely embarrassed me in front of everyone, all because I was sending Ally a text.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to use your phone in class, anyway,” she replied. Then, to her assistant, she said, “Karen, this has all the notarized statements Garcia wanted. I need you to messenger this to him, and then would you get me the Franklin deposition before you go to lunch? Thanks.” There was a brief pause before she spoke again. “Did Ally get in trouble, too?”

“No, but—”

“So you’re upset about getting caught.”

“That’s so not the point,” I said, growling in frustration.

“Well, I see he didn’t confiscate your phone,” she said. “Did he give you detention?” Another pause. “Please tell me you don’t have detention today. I need you home right after school.”

I made a face at my phone before I said, “No, I don’t have detention.”

She let out a heavy sigh, and I could picture her lips pressed tight together in a straight line. “Talia, sweetheart, I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I thought you talked to the school about cutting me some slack.”

“Yes, regarding your hair,” she said, correcting me. “That’s the only exception I asked Martin to make.”

Martin. She was on a first-name basis with my principal. I tried not to gag.

“What I did not do,” she continued, “is insist upon the right to brazenly break rules at your discretion, especially when you’re doing so right under your teacher’s nose.”

“But—”

“You are not a special snowflake, honey,” she said, “and even if you were, the same laws that apply to all other snowflakes would still apply to you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you need to follow rules like everyone else. There can’t have possibly been anything so critical this morning that you had to tell Ally right away.”

“You’re—”

“So I’m certainly not going to drop everything and run to Westgate because Mr. Jorgensen hurt your feelings and censured you in front of your class.”

“But that’s not—”

“I am buried in stuff I need to get finished before I leave for my conference. We’ll talk about this later.”

“But—”

“Talia.” Her clipped tone held in it a finality that let me know the matter was no longer up for discussion. “We will discuss this later.”

“Ugh,” I said as I ended the call. I shoved the phone into my pocket.

“That sounded like a fun conversation,” Keith said, startling me. I didn’t know how long he’d been walking beside me. He was close enough to hear most of my side of the call but far enough away that I didn’t notice him.

“You have no idea.” I glanced around. “Aren’t you going the wrong way? Why aren’t you over by the grove?” Even as I asked, I knew the answer. Zack and his other friends hung out at a small copse of dogwood trees near the faculty parking lot. If things got as heated between them as Jake had said, Keith wouldn’t be welcome.

Keith shrugged off my question. “I figured I’d check out the cafeteria. Maybe try it out and see why Jake likes hanging out there.” He grinned and elbowed me, and I laughed.