I am living on borrowed time.

At the moment, I am floating somewhere between concealment and revelation and at any moment will be pulled into the light for all to know my lies. Any minute. Any time. My good luck and good fortune are fast running out.

I am a wreck. Ever since Thursday evening, I have done nothing except fret and worry. I am sick, sick, sick. I've been caught and it's not like being caught by Anna or Janet. That girl has no loyalties to me. That girl doesn't even know me. And by the way she smiled so smugly, I know my secret will not remain a secret for long. She could tell a million different people. And then everyone will know.

Every time the telephone rings, I am overtaken by a nauseous churning in my stomach. It could be Wes. It could be Kristy. It could be anyone and they could know. All my lies and deceptions are about to come crashing down and I will be crushed beneath the wreckage. The end is near. I knew it would come someday. I couldn't stay ahead forever, always outrunning who I really am.

Thursday evening, I stayed at Wes' until midnight. I waited until I saw all the lights turn out across the courtyard. And my luck hasn't completely run out yet because in the morning Wes called to say he was going to his parents' for the day. He invited me, but I declined, even though I want to fill up my life with Wes, now that our time's quickly running out. But another day with his parents? I can't do that. Not when there's this nauseous churning in my stomach. I can barely wrap my arms around Wes without throwing up.

I spend Saturday with him. Wes wants to go out. I tell him it's too crowded. I can't risk being seen in public with him. Our time is short enough. On a busy weekend like Thanksgiving weekend everyone and anyone is out roaming the streets. Wes and I are confined indoors, like it or not. Wes doesn't press the issue of going out. He gives in to me. Maybe when the truth is told it won't matter. I've been a good girlfriend. I've proven my love to him again and again. As often as he wishes me to prove it. That must count for something. It must.

"What do you know about that girl?" I ask Wes. I'm standing at the sliding glass door, staring out at the courtyard. The blonde-haired girl is climbing the stairs to her apartment with an older girl, a brunette, following behind her.

Wes comes to stand beside me. "That girl? Uh...her name's Laurie, or something like that. She's always on her balcony with a pair of binoculars. That's why I keep the curtains closed. When we went to - " Wes is interrupted by the telephone ringing. "Let me get that," he says and leaves me standing alone at the sliding glass door. "Hi, Mom," he says into the receiver.

The churning begins again. I don't breathe as I listen in. But there's nothing abnormal about Wes' side of the conversation. Mrs. Ellenburg isn't calling to say, "Do you know what I found out about your girlfriend?" I release my breath and resume breathing normally. I step away from the sliding glass door and pull the curtain closed. That girl isn't spying on me anymore today. I won't provide her with further ammunition.

"That was my mom," Wes tells me, as he hangs up the phone. "She wants to know if you're coming with us to Miami over Christmas."

"Miami?" I repeat, sinking down onto the couch.

"Didn't I tell you? We alternate each year. Last year, we stayed in Connecticut for the holidays. This year, we're going to Miami. You know how my parents like to compromise. So, do you want to come? Mom thinks she'll still be able to find you a seat on our flight. You don't have to stay the whole week, of course. You could fly out after Christmas, if you like. I know you probably want to spend the actual holiday with your sisters. And, uh, your parents."

"Oh, um..." I don't know what to say. I want to say yes, of course I'll go. A week in Miami with Wes with no possibility of being unmasked. That would be a dream. But by the time Christmas comes, will Wes know the truth? Maybe. Probably. Will he care? Maybe. Probably.

Wes looks disappointed. "You don't want to come?" he asks.

"No! I mean, yes, I want to come. Of course, I want to come. But...but...well, my little sisters..." I let my voice trail off. I still don't know what to say. So, I say the worst thing I possibly can, as that's typical of me these days. "I'd love to come. Call your mom back."

"Really? Great!"

I stare down at my hands, biting my lip while Wes makes the call. What am I doing? I have no control over myself anymore.

"My parents are really pleased," Wes says when he hangs up again. He sits down at the other end of the couch. "They want to get to know you. They know how much I care about you." Wes reaches over and takes my hand. He strokes my palm with his thumb.

"Did they like me then?" I ask.

"Of course."

"Because...because..." I start, hesitantly. "Well, I got sort of a weird vibe off your mom a couple times. I wasn't sure if she liked me."

"Oh," Wes says, flatly, dropping my hand.

"What?"

"It's just that..." Wes says, taking his hand back. "She thinks you're sort of...young."

My stomach plummets to my toes. Mrs. Ellenburg suspects! It's an effort to keep my voice calm and controlled. "What do you mean...young?" I reply, casually.

"Well...you're only twenty. I told her, six years isn't a big deal, especially since you seem older. Sometimes. Mom's worried that you don't plan to stick around Stoneybrook. I've had some, uh, bad relationships and Mom doesn't want me making a big commitment, then get hurt again. But then, she's also worried that you'll make a big commitment to me and stay in Stoneybrook, then regret it. Are you...are you planning to leave?"

"No."

Wes breathes a sigh of relief. "I told Mom that. You would have told me, otherwise. I mean, if someday, when you're done at Stoneybrook U. and you want to go away for graduate school, that's still a long way off. We'll talk about it then," Wes says, reaching for my hand again. Then he frowns slightly and adds, "Uh...Mom also thought that comment about your dad was weird."

"Oh," is all I say. I stare down at Wes' hand entwined in mine, his thumb moving slowly across the skin of my palm. I've lied so much it doesn't feel wrong to add another to the line. Wes can think I won't leave him and I can pretend he won't soon leave me. And maybe he won't. I can pretend that, too.

Two hours later, I walk into a quiet, dark house. Tiffany's at work and there's a note on the refrigerator from Maria saying she, David Michael, and the Papadakis kids took the dogs to a nearby park. Who knows where my parents are? Who cares? I open the refrigerator and take out a bottle of apple juice, then lean back against the counter, drinking it slowly, feeling the coldness slide down my throat and into my already cold, churning stomach. Sometimes I feel like crying. But I don't.

The telephone rings.

I sigh and cross the kitchen, figuring it's Kristy. She's probably been spying on me again from her bedroom window. I didn't hear from her all day yesterday. I know she's mad about Thanksgiving. I don't need a lecture. Not now.

"Hello?" I say, already a bit exasperated in preparation for my verbal lashing.

"Shannon?"

"Yes?"

"This is Mary Anne. Mary Anne Spier."

I'm surprised. Has Mary Anne ever called me? Not since the days of the Baby-Sitters Club. I narrow my eyes in suspicion. Is she across the street, watching me, too? Is she calling to do Kristy's dirty work?

"I hope it's okay for me to call on the house line," Mary Anne is saying. "I don't have your private number. I got this number out of the phone book."

I wonder if she's lying. No. What would be the point? "It's okay," I assure her. "I was already in the kitchen anyway." I lean my shoulder against the wall and add with a hint of suspicion, "Are you at Kristy's?"

"No. I'm at Pete's house."

My eyes widen. Pete Black? I thought they broke up. In fact, I know they did. Months ago. Kristy told me. "Are you and Pete back together?" I ask.

"No!" Mary Anne exclaims, irritably. "We're not back together!" Her voice softens slightly. "We're just hanging out. Pete knows a lot about..." Her voice trails off.

"Oh."

"Yeah, so, we're going out. I mean, Pete and I aren't going out out. But tonight we're going to Washington Mall to see a movie. Kristy's coming and so is Pete's friend, Ross. You know Ross. Do you want to come with us?"

It's a good thing Mary Anne can't see me. She might be offended by the shock registering across my face. We really aren't friends. I don't understand why she's calling me up and asking me out. Oh. It dawns on me. That Kristy! She's too stubborn to call me herself. She is making Mary Anne do her dirty work.

"Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'm still here," I answer. "I have to pick Tiffany up from work at ten."

"That's okay. The movie will be out by then. Cam Geary's new movie opened yesterday," Mary Anne says, dreamily. "I'll call Kristy and tell her to pick you up in half an hour. Then you guys can come over to Pete's and get us. After the movie, we'll bring Tiffany back to Stoneybrook with us."

"Oh. Okay. That sounds fun," I tell her. It does sound fun. Kind of. It will take my mind off Wes and everything for awhile. Then a thought occurs to me. "Hey, that Paul kid isn't coming, is he?" I ask, warily.

"No! Not him or his two-faced sister!" Mary Anne shouts, then slams down the phone.

Mary Anne's bizarre.

I run upstairs and take a quick bath. I'm afraid I might smell like sex. I smell a bit like sweat and Wes' cologne at least. I towel off and begin picking through my closet. I always dress up for Wes. I'm tired of that. I pull on a pair of dark blue jeans and a thin mint green sweater, then I rummage through the disaster area that masquerades as Tiffany's bedroom until I find her white suede jacket. After a fast hair brushing and make-up refreshing, I call Wes to let him know where I'll be. Then I leave a note for Maria and rush out the front door, where I stand on the porch, waiting for Kristy. In earlier weeks, I would have walked over to her house, walked right in the front door without knocking. A lot has changed since then.

In a couple minutes, Watson's Suburban backs out of the garage. I sigh, heavily when I see Kristy in the driver's seat. She's borrowed the Suburban simply to irk me. She knows I detest riding in the Suburban when she's driving. Dear Lord, she can barely see over the steering wheel!

"Hi, Kristy," I greet her, hoisting myself into the passenger seat. There should be a step ladder or something.

"Hello," Kristy replies, dully, not looking at me. Instead, she's concentrating on the rearview mirror as she messes with her barrette. It's emerald green with tiny gold flecks.

"I like your barrette," I tell her, latching my seatbelt.

"Janet left it at my house," Kristy replies, throwing the car into reverse and backing up much too quickly. "On Thanksgiving. But you weren't there, of course," Kristy says. "You missed a lot of fun. You also missed a lot of fighting, but that was just Sam and Janet. The usual." Kristy turns the Suburban onto Bissell Lane. "Sam wants a divorce."

I look up from my purse, where I've been searching for a tube of hand lotion. "What?" I reply. "Are you serious?"

Kristy shrugs. "I overheard him tell Mom and Watson. It was after everyone left. Sam was crying. He told them that Janet said she'd never give him a divorce because she wants to devote her life to making him miserable. Now Mom and Watson are fighting. Mom says they never should have gotten married in the first place - Sam and Janet, not Mom and Watson - and that it's Watson's fault for telling Sam to marry her."

I shift, uncomfortably. I'd forgotten about that. Watson was the one who said Sam needed to do the right thing and marry Janet. When Janet refused to have an abortion, her parents agreed and pushed for marriage too. Elizabeth pushed for an abortion, then adoption, until the end. I suspect that's at the root of her dislike for Janet. It's not that Janet's solely to blame for the pregnancy, but what happened afterward was mostly in Janet's power.

"I'm sorry," I tell Kristy.

Kristy shrugs again. She doesn't speak for a couple minutes, not until we're at the stop sign at Forest Drive and Reilly Lane. "I'm sorry, too," she says, quietly.

"For what?" I ask, surprised.

"For whatever I've done to make you mad at me."

"I'm...I'm not mad at you."

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not. I'm just - "

"Busy, I know," Kristy says as we roll across the intersection. "I don't know what you're so busy with though. You never help out with the Smart and Sober club anymore. Amanda Kerner and I are doing all the work. And I know you're not helping Lindsey on the yearbook. Don't worry, she didn't tattle on you. But she's always at your guys' station by herself after school. I've seen her on my way back and forth from the newspaper office. And you're always doing your homework before school and before class and during lunch. Where are you all the time? Abby says you're not at the library. Unless, of course, Abby's not really at the library every minute of the day either. Then both my best friends are lying to me."

I fold my arms across my chest and look out the window as we turn onto Fawcett Avenue and pull up to a white two-story house with a red front door and black shutters. I recognize Ross Brown's Jeep Cherokee in the driveway beside a gray Saturn. Kristy and I don't speak again. The front door opens and Mary Anne and Pete come out, holding hands. Ross is behind them. I met Pete Black a couple times last spring when he was dating Mary Anne. Even though I'm beyond high school boys now, I think he's very good looking. He's at least a foot taller than Mary Anne with thick, wavy brown hair. He and Mary Anne make a cute couple. Maybe they're getting back together, despite Mary Anne's effusive protests to the contrary.

Pete opens the door behind my seat and pokes his head in. "Do you want to take my car, Kristy?" he asks.

"No," she replies. "I can drive."

Pete hesitates. "Are you sure?" he asks. "This car is kind of big and...are you sitting on a phone book?"

"No! I'm not sitting on a phone book, Pete Black! Now get in the car before I run you over!"

Pete complies, climbing into the car and sliding across the bench seat. Mary Anne and Ross climb in after him. Everyone says hello as they latch their seatbelts. I notice Mary Anne's taken her hair out of the pigtails. It's clipped back with two pink plastic heart-shaped barrettes. She's wearing jeans and a white parka with a fur-lined hood.

"Pete, you remember Shannon," Mary Anne says, as Kristy pulls away from the curb.

"Oh, yeah...you're Shannon," Pete replies.

I turn around. Mary Anne and Pete are holding hands again. "Yes, I'm Shannon. We've met before," I tell him.

"Yeah...I thought so."

There's a strange silence.

Ross leans forward. He's sitting behind me. He clears his throat. "How was your Thanksgiving?" he asks. "Isn't it great? Four days off from school!"

"I had a good Thanksgiving. And yes, it's nice having time off from school. But I'm looking forward to getting back," I answer. "Did you all have a nice Thanksgiving?"

Pete nods and Ross says, "Yeah." Mary Anne doesn't say anything. She just scowls.

I turn back around and resume my earlier search for my hand lotion. I start pulling things out of the purse, piling them on my lap, but there appears to be no lotion. "Do you have any lotion?" I ask Kristy. "My hands are really dry."

"I do," Mary Anne says. I hear her purse zip open, then she leans forward and gives me a small bottle of pear-scented lotion.

I squeeze some into my hand, then give the lotion back to Mary Anne. Pete's staring at me. Maybe I don't want him and Mary Anne to reconcile after all. He might be a creep. I turn around again, rubbing the lotion into my hands. I don't understand why no one's talking. Well, I know why Kristy isn't. She's upset with me. Mary Anne promised this would be fun. It isn't.

"It's too bad Lindsey's out of town," I finally say, directing my comment at Ross, even though I'm still facing forward.

"Oh, yeah," Ross says. "Lindsey's really nice. Her grandparents are crazy strict though. They hardly let us actually go out. We hang out in her living room a lot. That's...okay. I guess."

Kristy finally looks over at me, frowning. I can tell she's thinking the same thing I am. I frown back at her.

"But they're letting me take her to SHS's Winter Ball," Ross adds.

"Oh, good!" I exclaim. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Ross' earlier remark wasn't so bad.

When we reach Stamford, the Washington Mall parking lot is packed. We park about forty miles away from the entrance. It's beyond freezing outside. I zip up my jacket and regret not bringing earmuffs or a scarf. Or even gloves. The others remembered all those things. Except Pete pulls on a hat that matches his scarf. He informs us that Mary Anne knitted both for him. He sounds very proud of her. Then he starts staring at me again and I give him a nasty look. Ross is very nice and lets me wear his earmuffs.

Inside Washington Mall it's even more insane than the parking lot. Kristy actually links arms with me so we won't get separated. Ahead of us, Mary Anne and Pete are hand in hand again.

"Are they..." I whisper and jerk my head toward Mary Anne and Pete.

Kristy rolls her eyes. "Oh, Mary Anne doesn't know what she wants," Kristy answers, testily.

The five of us ride the escalator to Cinema World on the fourth floor, where we buy our tickets for the seven-thirty showing of Boy Town Confidential starring Cam Geary. I've seen the previews and the movie looks hideous. Mary Anne's the only one who actually wants to see it. Kristy and Ross stick their fingers down their throats and make loud gagging noises while the cashier prints our tickets. I take a step away and pretend I'm with the elderly couple at the next window.

The movie doesn't start for another hour and a half, so we take the escalator back down to the food court. Long lines stretch out at every food stand. The place is a madhouse.

"If we go to Hot Dog On A Stick," I tell everyone, "Tiffany will give us a bunch of free food."

No one ever passes up free food, so that's where we head. Tiffany's behind the counter at the register with three other girls and a lone boy. We wait in line for ten minutes before reaching her register.

"Hey!" Tiffany yells when we step up to the register. "You never come visit me at work! Hey, everyone, this is my sister!" she shouts at her co-workers, turning around. "This is my sister, Shannon!"

One of the girls stops pumping the handle on the lemonade maker. She glances up at me. "She doesn't look like a genius," the girl says, coolly.

My face grows hot.

"A lot you know," Tiffany snaps, then turns back to us. "May I take your order, Shanny?" she asks.

Pete and Ross laugh, which only makes my face hotter. That stupid baby name must die.

Kristy brushes aside my embarrassment. "We need five large cherry lemonades," she tells Tiffany. "Four cheese on a sticks and ten hot dogs on a stick."

"Ten?" Tiffany repeats, then punches some buttons on the register. "Okay, I'll only charge you for five. And for three drinks."

While we wait for our order, Mary Anne leaves in search of an empty table. When our drinks and the cheeses are ready, Pete and Ross take them and go off to find Mary Anne. Kristy and I wait for the rest of the order. I wait for her to interrogate me again, but no interrogation comes.

I start playing with a napkin dispenser, watching Kristy out of the corner of my eye. "So, Kristy..." I begin, then pause to consider whether I should ask. "Um...what do you know about that blonde friend of Claudia and Erica's?" I ask, casually.

"Lauren? I know she likes to get people in trouble."

Oh, well, that's fabulous.

I've completely lost my appetite by the time Kristy and I cross the food court with our trays. We find Mary Anne and the boys near Tortilla Queen, seated at a large square table. I set my tray on the table and start passing out the food. Kristy does the same. At first. Then suddenly, her mouth drops open.

"What?" I ask.

"Let's move," she says. "Come on. I don't want to sit here."

"There's nowhere else, Kristy," Mary Anne snaps.

"What's wrong?" I ask again, then begin glancing around. What did Kristy see? Or rather, who? My eyes fall on them. They're back near the restrooms in a secluded corner at a table for two. She's feeding him chili fries with her fork. Greer Carson. My ex-best friend. And Mick Stone. My ex-boyfriend.

All five of us are staring at them now.

"Who is that guy?" Mary Anne wants to know.

"Didn't we stick that guy's head in a toilet last summer?" Pete asks Ross.

"We'll go somewhere else, Shannon," Kristy tells me, stacking the food back onto the trays.

I tear my gaze away from Greer and Mick. I won't let anyone know my true feelings. I smile, pushing everything aside, hurt and anger, disappointment in Greer. "No, it's fine," I reply, still smiling, taking the food off the trays again. I slide into my chair. Even though I have no appetite, even though I want to throw up more now than I did ten minutes ago, I bite into a corn dog.

Kristy frowns at me. "Are you serious?" she demands. "You're going to sit there and eat a corn dog? Aren't you mad? Greer is a snake, just like Mick. You should be mad or hurt or something."

I shrug and take a sip of lemonade. It's difficult to swallow. "I'm fine," I say. I open a package of ketchup and squeeze it onto a napkin.

"They're really close to the restroom. Pete and I could put his head in a toilet again," Ross offers.

I shake my head.

"If you won't do anything, I will," Kristy announces, standing up. She storms across the food court, lemonade in hand.

"No, Kristy!" I call after her.

Kristy doesn't listen. As she approaches Mick and Greer, she removes the lid from her lemonade cup and tosses it onto the floor. Mick and Greer don't even notice her when she stops beside their table. They don't notice her until she dumps her lemonade in Mick's lap.

"What the hell!" Mick screams, jumping up.

Greer doesn't have a chance to react. Kristy picks up her chili fries and smashes them on Greer's head. Then Kristy turns and walks back toward us.

"Kristy Thomas!" Greer shrieks, leaping out of her chair. "You immature little bitch!"

Kristy slides back into her chair, smirking. I look over at Greer and Mick. Greer's trying to pick fries out of her hair while simultaneously drying off Mick's lap. She always was obsessed with that particular region of his body.

"Dude, that was awesome, Kristy!" Pete exclaims. He and Ross are laughing hysterically.

"Who is that guy?" Mary Anne asks again.

"Thanks a lot, Kristy," I say, tightly.

"You don't need to thank me," Kristy replies. "Something had to be done. You've let Mick and Greer stomp on you long enough and - "

"Kristy," Ross interrupts, "I think she was being sarcastic."

I toss down my napkin and push away from the table, rising. "Yes, Kristy, I was. Thanks a lot. Now Mick and Greer think I sent you over there to do my dirty work. Like you send Mary Anne to do yours! Now they think I'm angry, that I care. That's really all I need right now, Greer and Mick telling all of Stoneybrook that I'm not over him. That I'm bitter and spiteful. Now everyone's going to talk about me, so thanks." I shove my chair out of the way and stalk off, forgetting my purse and jacket.

Over all the noise, I hear Pete say something like, "Everyone's already talking about her," and Mary Anne says, "Knock it off," and Kristy says, "What?" and I keep walking.