My gut twists again. “Grey, I wasn’t stealing because of . . .” I trail off, fearing what everyone will find out if I say it aloud. I’m scared they’ll find out I’m not as good of a person as people think. And most of all, I’m afraid of what will happen if somehow word gets back to my parents.

“Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone what happened.” He pauses, looking as though he’s having a mental tug-of-war with himself. “Luna, I’m here if you need to talk. I know you have friends and stuff, but I just wanted you to know that.” He smiles at me as he sits back in his seat.

“Okay . . . thanks . . .”

I feel so lost. Why is he being nice to me? Does he feel sorry for me because he thinks I’m poor? Or is it simply because he’s trying to be a nicer person now?

As class begins, I’m left with a handful of unanswered questions, stewing in my own guilt.

By the time lunch arrives, my brain is drained. I’ve spent half the day obsessing over why Grey was so nice to me and whether he’ll keep his promise not to tell anyone my secret. I haven’t heard any rumors plaguing the hallways, though, so that has to be a good sign.

After I grab some snacks and a soda from the vending machines, I join Ari, Beckett, and Wynter outside under the trees. We sometimes leave campus to eat lunch, but my friends always stick around with me and offer moral support when I have to ride out my mother’s punishment.

“This is the worst idea ever.” Wynter playfully whacks Beckett in the back of the head as she sits down on the grass beside me, and he blasts her with a nasty look. “Why would you get Luna into this kind of situation? Why, Beckett? Why? You know how much she hates Grey Sawyer.”

“I don’t hate him.” I rip open a bag of cheese crackers to eat.

“That’s because you’re too nice.” Wynter steals a cracker from my bag and pops it into her mouth. “But deep down, under that niceness, you kinda, sorta hate him, even if you won’t admit it. You have since sophomore year.”

“Hey, I never actually made Grey pay for spreading that rumor about you back in tenth grade, did I?” Beckett slides on his sunglasses. “I should probably do something about that.”

“You mean, like manipulating Luna into tutoring him?” Wynter asks, rummaging through her purse with her head tucked down. “Because that’s a great freakin’ way to make Grey pay for being an asshole. He ends up with good grades, and Luna ends up traumatized from his douche-baggery.”

“Luna didn’t have to agree to tutor him,” Ari says, picking the crust off his sandwich. “She could’ve said no.”

“Don’t be a traitor. Remember who loves you more,” Wynter warns, pointing a finger at Ari.

Ari adjusts his square-frame glasses and brushes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Since when do you love me more? Because, if I recall, Beckett wasn’t the one who yelled at me for spilling his beer.”

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but when it comes to love, I think Wynter’s your girl,” Beck says with his head tipped down as he scrolls through his phone. “I mean, I’m all for an occasional bromance here and there, but love really isn’t my thing.”

Ari rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just meant that you’re nicer than she is a lot of the time, but you know what? I’m going to take that back.”

Wynter grins smugly at Beckett. “See? I’m the nicer one.”

Beckett snorts a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Wynter lightly smacks Beckett’s arm, and he ignores her, which seems to irritate her more. She places her hands on her hips and starts teasing him about being a pothead until Beckett finally scowls at her. Then she smiles, satisfied with herself, while Ari and I exchange a look.

We had a conversation once about the two of them probably secretly being in love, and all the fighting is just sexual tension. That’s Ari’s theory, anyway. I’m not really buying into it just yet. I wonder if they’ve known each other for so long they have more of a sibling relationship than anything.

“So, are you really going to tutor Grey Sawyer?” he asks me loudly over Beckett and Wynter’s bickering.

“I don’t want to, but I already told him I would.” I stuff a cracker into my mouth. “And I can’t think of a way to get out of it without being a jerk.”

He bites down into his sandwich. “You’re allowed to be a jerk every once in a while. You don’t have to be so nice all the time.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” And I’m not nice all the time, not even close. I just keep my dirty, little secrets hidden because the Harveys aren’t supposed to be bad or mean or improper.

“Hey, I can be mean sometimes,” Ari tries to argue, peeling more crust off his bread.

I laugh. “You so cannot. You’re like the nicest guy ever. Inside and out.”

“I can, too,” he insists. “I think everyone is mean at some point in their lives, right?”

“Okay, I see your point, but still—”

“God, I’m so tired I can’t even see straight.” Willow drops her bag next to me then dramatically falls down on the grass and drapes her arm over her head.

“Napping helps with that,” Beckett says, stealing the bottle of water from Wynter’s hand. “Trust me, I’m an expert.”

“I’m sure you are, but I can’t nap,” Willow unties the over-shirt that’s around her waist, balls it up, and tucks it under her head like a pillow. “My mind won’t slow down enough.”

“I have something that can help with that,” Beckett offers, reaching for his bag.

“No way.” I point a finger at Beck. “I’m not going to let you corrupt our Willow.”

“I’m just giving her a choice.” Beck raises his hands in front of him, surrendering. “Chillax, Lu.”

“He’s not going to corrupt me,” Willow murmurs, her eyelids drifting closed. “I’m already corrupted.”

The four of us look at each other then burst into a fit of laughter.

Willow constrains a smile. “Mock all you want, but I’ve done some bad things. I’ve even came this close”—she holds up her finger and thumb an inch apart—“to being a bad girl.”

“Sticking your gum on the bottom of the desk doesn’t count as being a bad girl,” Beckett says, resting his arms on his knees. “Admit it, Wills, you’re too sweet to be bad.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Willow rolls on her side and cranes her neck to look at him. “That’s more Wynter’s and your thing. Me, Ari, and Luna have to be good to make up for all the bad stuff you two do.”

I set down the bag of crackers, no longer hungry anymore.

“Oh, you think I’m bad, huh?” Beckett teases as he jumps to his feet. “I’ll show you how bad I can be.”

Willow’s eyes pop open, and she scrambles to get up, but Beck snags her by the back of her shirt, yanks her back against him, and tickles the crap out of her.

“Beck, stop!” Willow begs as she tries to squirm out of his hold. “I take it back, okay? You’re good!”

“Say I’m a good boy,” Beck says as he tickles her sides. “And that you love me.”

“Fine! You’re a good boy and I love you!” she manages to get out through her laughter.

Instead of letting her go, he lies on the ground and brings her down with him. Then he rolls on his side and tucks his arm underneath her head. With how close they act, I sometimes wonder if there’s something going on between the two of them. If there is, though, no one seems to know about it.

“My arm’s a better pillow for napping,” Beck insists as he presses his chest against Willow’s back.

“No way. You just think that because you’re cocky,” Willow says, but she rests her head on his arm, and seconds later, her eyelids lower.

Beck looks proud of himself for getting her to relax. It’s a hard thing to do with Willow since she’s usually stressed out about something, has been since the day we became friends back in third grade. She was the quiet, shy girl who wore old clothes that were a little too big for her. She always spent recess on the swings by herself until one day Wynter announced, “She seems sad. We should make her come play hopscotch.” So we marched over there and made her play with us. She didn’t seem too reluctant, though. In fact, she seemed grateful that someone made the effort to get to know her.