The other four file in, some of them late, so it’s ten past before we’re all assembled. In Green World, there’s Kenneth, aka Kenny Wu, Gwen Reave, Tara Tanner, and Conrad Loudermilk—two freshmen, one senior, and one other. Conrad is in his twenties, but for reasons known only to him, he hasn’t gone off to college yet. Instead he putters around his mom’s house and hangs out with high school people when he’s not working at the local supermarket, the P&K. Which is like an A&P, I guess, only crappier.

Gwen is the senior, which means she has a car and the sense that she’s in charge, so she orders the pizzas—one cheese, one veggie, from Pizza the Action. The main thing you need to know about this town is, it’s a small place, so the biggest name restaurant we have in town is the Dairy Queen. The whole downtown can be traversed in five minutes on foot. There’s a strip mall toward the highway, but there’s nothing shiny in there, either, mostly low-rent shops and stuff like the dollar store, only it’s not even a national franchise; it’s called Bang for Your Buck.

Anyway.

Once Gwen gets off the phone, she calls the meeting to order while studying Shane through her bangs. I can tell she’s wondering who he is. I don’t clarify. It’s not like I own him.

But he does the talking. He cants his head at me and mumbles, “She invited me. I’m Shane Cavendish.”

He doesn’t even know my name, I realize. Smooth.

“Sage Czinski.”

Nobody ever spells my last name right from hearing it pronounced, and they rarely get it when reading off a list. It’s not that hard, really: suh-ZIN-skee. But I’m prepared for a career of correcting people as I go through life. My first name is kind of strange, too, but my dad always said that when I was born, he thought I had wise eyes for a baby, so that’s why he called me Sage.

“Good to have you, Shane.” Gwen sparkles at him. She’s pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes, and good teeth from three years of orthodontia.

I’m self-conscious about mine, as I have a slight overbite, and they’re a bit crooked. Not bad enough to merit braces, but not perfect. My canines are a little too long, too, which means I get vampire jokes at Halloween. Better than every day, I suppose.

The rest of the members introduce themselves to him, too. Then we go around the room as we wait for the food, offering our presentations for the first Green World project. Each week for the past month, we’ve done this and not gotten anywhere because everyone wants his or her idea to be implemented first. It’s starting to feel like a waste of time, but Wednesday is two for one at Pizza the Action, and I’ve gotten used to bickering with these people.

We’ve just completed the pitches when Steve the delivery dude taps on the door. This is old hat for him, too, as he knows to come upstairs if he wants a decent tip. For a few minutes, we scramble, scraping together his payment from crumpled ones and pocket change, then I add a little more to keep him happy. I don’t look at Shane, who hasn’t reached for his wallet. Based on the state of his jacket, jeans, and backpack, I bet he doesn’t have any cash on him. The promise of free food might even be why he agreed to stay.

He goes for a couple of slices of plain cheese while I pounce on the veggie. I’m not horrified by the idea of eating meat, but Aunt Gabby is, and since she was kind enough to take me in, I feel like I should conform to her values for solidarity. So for the last three years, I’ve been on tofu and vegetables. Fortunately, she’s not vegan because I don’t think I could live without cheese. Seriously. I’d die.

Eating takes up ten minutes of the meeting, and then Gwen calls us back to order. “Now we just need to decide which idea to go forward with.”

This is where everything usually breaks down. We’ll spend the last half hour arguing among ourselves. But before we can get started on that, Shane says, “Why not just vote? If you’re worried about hurting somebody’s feelings, do a closed ballot. Write down the idea you like best.”

Gwen looks like he just gave her a tiara. “That’s genius. Make sure you vote for the idea you truly think is best. Because if everyone votes for himself, nothing will get done.”

I don’t point out that since Shane didn’t present an idea, he has to vote for somebody … and that means his support will carry the day, even if everyone does vote for his own project. After digging a scrap of paper from my backpack, I jot down a name, not my own. I actually like Ryan’s idea better.

The slips of paper go into Kenny’s Mario hat, then Gwen reads them out.

“Gwen. Kenny. Tara. Ryan. Ryan. Sage. Sage.” A frown. “We have a tie.”

“We can’t do both.” Conrad is staring at me with a happy smile, which makes me think he voted for me.

It occurs to me that Ryan probably voted for himself, so does that mean … Shane chose my plan? That doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself.

Tara offers, “We should vote again, now that we’ve narrowed it down to two. Pick between Ryan and Sage.”

Gwen nods. “Good idea.”

The atmosphere is surprisingly efficient without the usual garbage. I wonder if they’re showing off for Shane. I understand why Tara and Gwen would want him to think well of them, but what’s up with Kenny, Conrad, and Ryan? My bestie’s been wearing a faint scowl for the last ten minutes, and he hasn’t said much since Shane suggested the vote.

“Okay, round two.”

Just to be consistent, I vote for Ryan again, but when the vote comes up, it’s four to three in favor of my idea. Which is to clean up a vacant lot downtown in preparation for planting a garden in the spring. I’m not clear on the legalities of using land you don’t own, but maybe I can get permission. I say as much to Gwen when she proclaims the project a go.

“That’s your top priority,” she tells me. “Next meeting won’t be here. Let’s go directly there after school next week. Dress comfortably and bring biodegradable bags to hold the garbage.”

“Sounds good.”

The meeting breaks up thereafter with everyone mumbling good-byes. Like I always do, I start cleaning up the room. The others are used to my routine, so they don’t stop to help. They all have curfews or other places to be, apart from Ryan, who musters a smile when he sees me looking at him.

“You’ve won this round,” he says, pretending to twirl an imaginary mustache. “But I’ll be back with another nefarious plan next week.”

God, he’s a dork. And awesome.

“See you tomorrow,” I answer.

“They just leave you to deal with the mess?” Shane asks, after Ryan bails.

Since I’ve hardly looked at him since the others arrived, I’m surprised that he’s hanging around. Surprised but glad. I finish breaking down and folding the pizza box before replying. “I’m the library liaison. I talked Miss Martha into letting us use this room, and they don’t usually allow food in the building.” I hesitate, wondering if I’ll sound crazy anal if I try to make him understand. I settle for, “So it’s on me if the room’s not clean enough at the end of the night.”

It’s not that I’m a total neat freak, just that this falls under the heading of keeping a promise, something I am fanatical about.

“I get that.”

I pick up the second box. “There’s one piece of veggie left if you want it.”

“Sure you don’t?”

“I’d have suggested we split it if I was still hungry.” I flip open the second pizza box, offering him the final slice.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Thanks.”

He picks off the mushrooms, then devours it in six bites, not that I was counting, and afterward, he helps me clean up the room, though he laughs when he sees I’ve got wipes in my bag, which I use on the table and the arms of the chairs. Shane Cavendish is even better with humor shining in his eyes. I can’t stop looking at him, whereas, to him, I’m sure I’m the weird girl trying to hide a big butt with a flouncy skirt.