“Well,” says Amanda, “technically biromantic asexual. I think.”

“Not to be a total ass,” says Will, “but can someone translate, please?”

Hannah opens her mouth to speak, but Amanda says, “I got this.”

Hannah smiles—a real smile!—and nods.

“So what that means,” explains Amanda, “is that I can experience different kinds of attraction, but I personally don’t have sexual feelings for anyone.” She turns to Will. “Maybe it sounds complicated. But it feels pretty simple to me. And I guess that’s all that matters.”

“But you said you might want to have sex,” says Will, “so how can that happen without sexual attraction?”

Hannah opens her mouth again, but looks to Amanda first, who nods an approval. “It’s like not being hungry, but still being okay with eating pizza or even enjoying it. And then there are some people who just don’t like pizza no matter what.”

Amanda cracks a smile as she nods. “Totally.”

Will nods. “Okay. Okay. I think I get it.”

Hannah smirks. “Congratulations!”

Ellen shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

And then Amanda looks to me, waiting for me to say something. And the truth is Amanda could be sexually attracted only to people who have detached earlobes, and I wouldn’t care. My mom and dad . . . they have a hard time understanding anything that’s not boy + girl = marriage, house, and baby, but that never worked for me. So I’m not sad that Amanda is asexual. But I’m just sad she never told me. Or maybe it’s that I wasn’t listening closely enough when she did try to tell me.

“It’s great!” I finally say, my voice too high and too loud. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy.”

Amanda smiles, but it’s a little strained.

Ellen gasps. “Oh my God! I totally forgot to ask you about your uncle’s gym, Millie!”

I nod, glad for the change of subject. “It’s been such a mess. But the police think they caught the person who organized the whole thing.” Well, actually, they definitely have and I’m the one who cracked the case. But I don’t exactly want that going around school. I don’t mind attention, but I don’t need that kind.

“Are you serious?” asks Will. “Our police department can solve actual crimes?”

Hannah chuckles.

I smile and nod.

“Well, who was it?” asks Ellen eagerly.

I guess everyone will find out soon enough. “Callie Reyes,” I say. “One of the dance-team assistant captains.”

“That bitch!” exclaims Willowdean. She turns to Ellen. “I told you she was awful.”

Ellen rolls her eyes.

“She is pretty horrible,” Amanda says.

“Won’t fight you on that one,” says Hannah. “I heard her best friend hooked up with her boyfriend and she stayed with him and dumped her best friend.”

Ellen sighs. “That’s not actually true. Mainly because she doesn’t really have any friends. But he is kind of a jerk. Super showy about money, and he speeds through school zones, and for some reason that just really pisses me off.”

I shake my head. “No, thank you,” I say.

“Well,” says Ellen, “she’s not exactly a basket of sunshine herself.”

I shake my head. “Now she’s my new coworker.”

“Are you serious?” Willowdean’s eyes go wide with horror.

I nod. “That’s the deal. She wouldn’t rat out anyone else she was with—”

“Are you serious?” asks Hannah. “I didn’t peg her for the loyal type.”

“Of course it was the dance team,” says Amanda.

I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s what makes the most sense with the gym dropping out as a sponsor, but Callie was the only one we could identify on camera, and she wouldn’t give up anyone else. So Sheriff Bell, Uncle Vernon, and her parents agreed she would step down from the dance team and work off the damages at the gym. And I get to train her. When her debt is paid off, Uncle Vernon will drop all charges against her.”

Willowdean shakes her head. “If there’s anyone I’m sorry for here, it’s you. That girl is like a ball of prickly burrs all tied up in a bow.”

I smile halfheartedly. I’ve already promised myself to give her the benefit of the doubt, but the truth is I’m mad. I’m really, truly angry. I feel violated, like this one little space I had to call my own—this dirty, smelly gym—is no longer safe. It’s no longer my own. And it’s hard not to take offense to the fact that working with me is part of her punishment. I shrug, trying to get beyond the negativity. “Well, if anything, she’s lucky my uncle was generous enough not to press charges.”

Amanda nods. “You’re not kidding.”

A brief quiet settles. This slumber party needs a hit of adrenaline.

“Ice-cream sundaes!” I say, the words coming out like more like Eureka! “I think it’s time for an ice-cream sundae break.”

Hannah laughs, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Well, that’s something I don’t hate.”

Willowdean nods. “A-plus slumber party, Millicent Michalchuk!”

Sprinkles make everything better, and for a whole night I even forget about Daisy Ranch and how in the world I’m ever going to get into broadcast journalism camp.

Callie

Ten

The wheels of my mom’s Tahoe barely come to a stop outside the gym before I swing the door open and jump out. “I can’t believe you agreed to this without consulting me,” I tell her. This is the constant argument we’ve had for the last few days, which I’ve spent at home serving suspension. Every time it fizzles out, one of us sparks it right back up again, like two trick birthday candles.

“Well,” she shouts as I slam the door. The automatic window buzzes as it rolls down, so she can be sure she’s heard. “I still can’t believe you vandalized a place of business like some damn hooligan.”

“You don’t think I’ve already been punished enough? Everything I’ve spent the last few years working for has basically evaporated.” My voice grows louder with each word, and a few people in the shopping center, including a couple of men exiting the gym, pause to watch our interaction.

My mom, fully aware of our audience, doesn’t bother to indulge me. “I’ll pick you up at six,” she says. “I love you, honey.”

I spin on my heels and shout, “Sure you do.” I go out of my way to make eye contact with absolutely every person I pass in the parking lot. It takes everything in me not to snap at each of them. Keep staring, I think. Watch the pretty girl’s life unravel before your very eyes. And that’s really one of the shittier parts of this whole thing. When you’re at the top, people just love to watch you fall.

The bells above the door jingle as I walk into the gym, and Millie is the first person I see. Perfect, I think.

Popping down from her stool behind the counter, she waves and says, “Hiya! You’re Callie.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I respond dryly. “Hi, Millie.”

You would think a girl like Millie would do her best to stay out of the spotlight, but I swear to God the girl does everything in her power to not be missed. Like today. In her lavender leggings and hot-pink tunic dress with sneakers that appear to be hand-painted with flowers and kittens.

She claps her hands together. “Welcome to Down for the Count! I don’t know if you remember me, but I do the morning announcements for your mom at school.”

“Well, we collided in the office the other week,” I tell her. “You were in the pageant.” Couldn’t miss her, really. “And we’ve gone to school together since elementary school. So, yeah. I know who you are.”

She smiles, but her lips are stiffer than they were a moment ago. “Well, I try my best not to make any assumptions, and I didn’t want to embarrass you in case you had forgotten me.”

Oh, this girl is good. Her passive-aggressive game is next level. It’s so good that most people would just mistake it for manners. “Right,” I say. “Well, let’s get this over with.”