I pass Abby in the hallway on Friday and we pretend there's nothing strange happening in our lives, that we are not falling to pieces in our own ways. Abby grins and waves. I return a small smile, hugging my books tight to my chest. A day and a half has passed since the night we found Tiffany in a hotel room with her second conquest of the week. A day and a half since Abby witnessed me losing control. She hasn't spoken of that night, not in any words greater than, "how's Tiffany?" I guess it's like how I ask, "how's Anna?" Simple questions with a hundred other questions hiding behind, lurking in their complexities and meanings. I wish to ask Abby more, but don't, and I know she feels the same.

Lindsey eats with me today. She sets her lunch bag down across from mine and slides into her usual seat, her old seat. Sally White comes along a couple minutes later and dumps all her belongings on the table. She turns her lunch bag upside down, allowing all its contents to fall onto the table. A can of grape soda smashes her sandwich, but Sally doesn't seem to notice. She's eaten lunch with me all week. Now that our group has splintered, she's no longer the thorn in our collective side. She is my thorn to bear alone.

"Greetings, Starshine, Miss Lemonhead," Sally says as she sits down.

Lindsey's lips pucker instinctively. "I wish you'd stop calling me that," she says, crossly.

"You wanted a nickname, didn't you?"

Lindsey doesn't answer, continuing to make her face. I have to agree with Sally. Lindsey did bemoan her lack of a nickname on several occasions. But I won't give Sally the satisfaction of agreeing with her. Instead, I unwrap my sandwich and take a large bite.

"Be careful what you wish for," Sally tells Lindsey, pointing a carrot stick at her. "Starshine, are you going to eat your whole sandwich today? I have olive loaf again."

"Yes, I am," I reply, curtly, even though I didn't intend to. Now I'll shove down my entire lunch if I must.

"Oh, well," Sally sighs. "What's going on this weekend? I have to go to a fundraiser in New York for breast cancer research. My mother's hosting it. Dreadfully boring, isn't it?" Sally rolls her eyes. "Does anyone want to come?"

I wrinkle my nose at her. "No," I scoff. Like I'd ever intentionally be in her company. "I have plans this weekend with my boyfriend."

"Good God!" Sally exclaims, dropping her carrot stick. "You took Lindsey's horrifically frightening advice! Good God, Starshine. Are you trying to kill this poor man?"

"You know, you don't know anything about me or him or our situation, so shut up," I snap at her. I turn to Lindsey. "What are your plans tonight, Lindsey?" I ask her, pleasantly.

Lindsey licks some blackberry yogurt off her spoon. "George and Sadie gave me permission to go on a date at night!" she cries, slapping a hand on the table. "At night! Alone with Ross. No chaperone! I guess they've decided Ross isn't going to impregnate me in the backseat of his Jeep or whatever insanity goes on in their minds." Lindsey laughs.

"See what happens when you take my advice and stop eating your own hair?" Sally says, pointing another carrot stick at her.

"I do not eat my hair!" Lindsey protests.

Sally brushes the comment aside. "Now, see, Starshine, you should be more like Lindsey and listen to me. I won't steer you wrong."

"Earlier this week, you almost steered me into a Corvette. I think I'll pass on whatever wisdom you have to dispense." I stand and lift my bag to my shoulder. "Enjoy the rest of my lunch," I tell her. "I'll see you later, Lindsey."

I leave the cafeteria and head to the girls' restroom. It's empty. Finally, a little peace and quiet. I set my messenger bag on the counter and take out my cosmetics bag. Only two more periods until the weekend. Just thinking about it causes me to release a small sigh of relief. I intend to make this weekend one of restoration. I've already made up with Wes. Wednesday night at my house, then again last night on our date. A date that involved going out in public. It was fun, although I spent much of the time worrying and looking over my shoulder. I'm uncertain if Wes noticed. Then at his apartment, we made up twice more.

Now I have to make up with Tiffany and Maria. I don't know how. There's no one to give me any guidance. Maria barely speaks to me. I saw her briefly yesterday, as she flew out the front door with her suitcase, off to stay with some other friend. She can't keep this up forever. She can't avoid me until I leave for college next year. And Tiffany spends a lot of time slamming doors and cabinets and shooting me venomous glares.

I don't know how I am supposed to fix this.

I put away my cosmetics bag and get out my hairbrush. I run the brush through my hair, staring at my reflection. I don't look good. I don't look good at all. Shouldn't love make me glow? Maybe everything else, all the bad things, cancels it out.

The restroom door swings open and Tiffany storms in, moving very fast, clutching an armful of books to her chest. She screeches to an abrupt halt when she sees me. She narrows her eyes, mutters under her breath, and drops the books on the counter. Then she rips the hairbrush out of my hand.

"Stop stealing my hairbrush!" she shouts, shaking it at me. "You have your own! Don't you have enough already? Stop stealing my things!"

I hold up my hands. "I thought it was my hairbrush. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to steal from you."

Tiffany continues to glare at me. "My hairbrush has the pink handle, yours has the red handle. Try to remember that from now on. Now, I'm covering Marsha's shift tonight. Tyler's picking me up, so you don't have to worry about me. As if you would!"

"Tiffany…" I start.

Tiffany steps into a stall, mouth set in a firm line. "Please be gone when I come out," she says, coldly, and shuts the door.

Reluctantly, I obey.

Seventh and eighth period inch passed slowly. During study period, I manage to complete all my calculus homework, including a couple assignments I missed during the week. I'll still receive full credit. The last few weeks have not succeeded in lowering my teachers' opinions of me. I am still the same Shannon in their eyes. Shannon the perfect star student, who is simply a bit overwhelmed at the moment. It's special treatment I know I don't deserve.

I'm walking out the front doors toward the parking lot when Amanda Kerner jogs up and falls into step beside me. I shift my eyes sideways toward her, wearily. My first thought is that Kristy has sent her to interrogate me or something. I've known Amanda almost my whole life. We grew up in the same neighborhood, although we've never been even anything close to friends. She's nice, if a bit intense and humorless. She attended Kelsey Elementary and Middle Schools, which is probably the reason we've only ever been on the most casual of friendly terms. We're on the yearbook staff together and in the Smart and Sober club. But Amanda is Kristy and Lindsey's friend. They're all on the softball team.

"Hey, Shannon!" Amanda greets me in what sounds suspiciously like an overly-friendly tone.

"Hi, Amanda," I reply, unenthusiastically.

"You missed this week's Smart and Sober meeting," she tells me.

"Yes, I know. Sorry."

"It's all right," Amanda says, graciously, or so she thinks. "We're plotting out a lot of new ideas though, so don't miss again. We've decided to incorporate sexually transmitted diseases into one of the presentations. I guess there's a genital warts epidemic over at Stoneybrook High. First, alcohol poisoning and now genital warts! I am so glad I don't attend public school anymore! Anyway, Al and I are going over to Kristy's this evening to work on the presentation. Kristy's stepdad is making some sort of Mexican fiesta for dinner. We're having enchiladas and burritos and guacamole and chile con queso dip. It'll be a lot of fun. You'll come, right?"

We stop beside my car and I begin searching for my car keys, avoiding the question. I can't go over to Kristy's house and honestly, even if I wasn't mad at Kristy, I have other concerns on my mind. The Smart and Sober club doesn't seem so important anymore. Not like it seemed last year. "Kristy didn't even come to school today," I tell Amanda, still peering into my bag, even though I see the keys at the bottom.

Amanda shrugs. "Yeah, well, I'll call her when I get home. I'm sure the plan is still on. Will you come?"

I finally take my keys out and look up at Amanda. I shift, uncomfortably, still wondering if Kristy put her up to this. And where is Kristy? I can't recall the last time she missed a day of school. "I can't. Sorry, Amanda. Maybe next time," I tell her and unlock my door. ""I have to do something with my little sister. Maria. You know Maria." That isn't a complete lie. If Maria's actually at home, I thought we could bake brownies or something. I know that won't fix anything, but maybe it will help.

Amanda nods. "Yeah…I know Maria," she replies and flips her light brown hair over her shoulder. It falls in limp curls down her back. "Listen…I kind of need to talk to you about something else."

My stomach tightens. Oh no. What is it that Amanda knows and has to hold over me? "Oh…well, I have to get home. I need to pay the housekeeper," I say.

"It's important."

I shut the car door and sag against it. "Okay."

Amanda frowns and turns her eyes downcast. I notice she's holding a folded paper in her left hand. "Do you remember in tenth grade when we had American history together? And we were writing those papers on Spanish settlement in California and the mission system? And we kept getting into those arguments because you felt the mission system was barbaric and I said the settlement was inevitable?"

I sigh. "Yes, I remember." I don't see how this is possibly relevant to anything.

"Well, I tutor this sophomore named Kiki and she got an A on her last paper," Amanda says, unfolding the paper and holding it out to me.

I take the paper and flip over the title page. I still don't see the relevance. I scan the first page, then the second, my eyes widening with each line. "This…this is my paper!" I exclaim, quickly flipping to the third page. My jaw drops. "At least, the first three pages are mine. The fourth and fifth are different. Mostly."

"Yeah, I remembered your introduction and your first paragraph. I disagreed with those the most," Amanda says. "Kiki admitted it wasn't her work. She said she bought the paper for fifty dollars."

It's happened again! Anger rises inside me and I grip the paper tight. "Who did she buy it from?" I demand. "Tiffany or Greer?"

Amanda bites her lip and shakes her head. "No…" she says.

"Who?"

"Abby Stevenson."

And it all falls into place.

I make it home in record time. I'm driving so fast I almost forget to stop inside the garage and nearly plow through the wall. I jump out of the car and run into the house, knocking into Mrs. Bryar in the laundry room. I don't apologize. My anger has grown with every second that has past since leaving SDS and now that anger consumes me. Abby Stevenson is a rat. A lying, thieving rat. I throw my bag onto the kitchen table and continue on through the house, huffing and stewing and thinking terrible things about Abby. Abby, my supposed friend. Abby, who offered me support as I searched for Tiffany. And all the time she's been stealing from me.

In Dad's study, I retrieve my checkbook and scrawl out a check for Mrs. Bryar. Then I stab an open book on the desk with the pen. I toss the check at Mrs. Bryar as I stomp passed her in the kitchen.

"I'll be at Abby's," I bark at her and don't wait for a reply. I storm out into the garage, then across the front yard, and finally across the street. I stop on Abby's front porch and take a deep breath. It doesn't help. I pound my fist on the door. I continue to pound until I hear Abby's sneakers scuffing across the foyer tile.

"Tiffany didn't disappear again, did she?" Abby asks when she opens the door. She's already changed out of her uniform. She looks so innocent. Not at all like a rat.

I scowl at her and hold up Kiki's paper. "Look familiar?" I demand, icily.

Abby's face falls. "Oh…" she says, softly.

"Oh," I mimic.

"Um…"

I shove my way into the house. I glance around the foyer, although I don't know what I'm searching for. I spin around to face Abby. "You sold my Lord of the Flies paper to Greer, didn't you?" I demand.

Abby nods.

"How many more? How many more of my papers did you steal?"

Abby shrugs.

"You don't know?"

"Six or seven," she admits. "I changed them a lot though! I used them more as an outline. Well, not that paper you have there so much. I don't know anything about the mission system, really. And…and I took a lot of your worksheets from physics and botany and stuff like that. I used them to…to do homework."

I am dumbstruck.

"I took them from your file cabinet," Abby tells me. She doesn't look at me. She crosses her arms and stares at the floor. "I took a few papers from Kristy and Lindsey, too. Some of their old homework, too. I took it all at the start of the school year. I'm sorry. I just…I couldn't keep up with my homework and all the homework I was doing for other people. You're all smart. You get A's on everything."

My mouth hangs open. That isn't an excuse. That isn't an excuse at all! "You stole my homework and sold it to other kids? Why would you do that?" I ask, incredulously. Everything fits so neatly together now. All those afternoons and weekends Abby spent holed up in her house and at the library, claiming to work on homework. She really was working on homework. Just not her own. And that's why she seemed to forever be behind, never catching up. But the only piece that's missing is why.

"I needed the money," Abby says, still looking at the floor. "I have…debts."

"Debts? What debts could you possibly have?" I ask. And something occurs to me. Something I haven't given much suspicious consideration for weeks. "Abby…where is your car?" I ask.

Abby finally looks up. Her eyes shift. I drop the paper and turn and run toward across the foyer into the kitchen toward the garage. Abby chases after me. I race through the laundry room with Abby on my heels and throw open the door to the garage. The garage is empty.

"Where is your car?" I ask again.

Abby starts to cry.

It startles me. I turn to face her and watch the tears stream down her face. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. If I weren't so angry and betrayed, I would feel very sorry for her.

"Mom sold it," Abby says.

"Anna's too?"

Abby nods. "She had to pay…she had to pay…someone back."

It's freezing inside the garage and our voices echo in the emptiness. I hug myself, trying not to shiver. My insides are so hot that I should not feel the coldness.

"It's my fault," Abby tells me. "I made a terrible mistake. A lot of terrible mistakes. It was Claudia's idea…but it's not really her fault. I wanted to go along with it." Abby hesitates and wipes her eyes again. "Over the summer," she says, "Claudia was dating this guy at her dad's firm, where she works in the mail room, you know. He was an intern or something. He was really into the stock market and he convinced Claudia to let him invest her money."

"How does Claudia have any money?" I demand. "She works in a mail room."

Abby hesitates again. "She…she drained her college fund. It's not like she was going to use it for college. She couldn't even finish high school! And then – it was so stupid, Shannon – I let Claudia convince me to do the same. I had access to my college fund and I took out the money. All of it. Claudia's boyfriend seemed to know what he was doing. She said he did. But then, he sort of lost our money."

"All of it?" I gasp. "Your entire college fund?"

Abby nods. "Yes. All of it. So, then, we thought we could get it back. Claudia said we could try something else and her boyfriend suggested we place some bets…"

I close my eyes, tight. Dear Lord. Maybe Kristy's been right about Claudia all along.

"But we needed some more money, of course, so…I sort of took it out of Anna's college fund."

My eyes snap open. "What?" I cry, not believing I heard correctly. There's no way. There's no way Abby would steal from her own sister.

"I pretended to be her at the bank. It seemed like a good idea at the time," Abby insists, although I don't see how she can possibly believe that. "And at first, Claudia and I were winning and then, we made some really, really bad bets. That was my fault. I let Claudia choose the teams based on which uniforms she liked. We lost all the money and then this bookie came after us and – "

I cut her off. "You're making this up, right? This is an absolute lie, right? You and Claudia cannot possibly, in reality, be this stupid."

Abby sucks in her breath and appears hurt. "No, it's the truth. So, this guy came to collect what we owed and of course, there was no more money. I had to tell Mom what we'd done and…oh, God, she was mad. She paid part of the debt, but she's pretty overextended herself. I mean, the brand new cars, the killer mortgage payment, our tuitions, that vacation home she bought us in Maine, which we never visit, and will probably have to sell anyway. So, she sold our cars. That covered the rest of what I owed and Mom was able to put back some of Anna's money."

I clutch my head. This has to be a joke. Abby's trying to confuse me, so I'll stop being mad about the stolen homework. "Dear Lord, Abby. How much money did you lose?" I cry.

"A lot."

That really doesn't tell me anything. "So, this is what you've been hiding? You and Anna? This is what Anna wanted to tell me, but you wouldn't let her? But Abby, I don't understand…it seems like Anna's blaming your mom, not you."

Abby slumps back against the wall, leans her head back into it. She rests her hands on her stomach, fingers intertwined, face expressionless. "Anna doesn't know the truth," she admits in a strange, flat voice. "Mom told Anna…Mom told Anna the debts were hers. That Mom cleaned out our college funds and lost all our money. That's how Anna found out…about that…that baby…" Abby grimaces. "She was searching for bank statements."

I cover my mouth with my hand. "You let your mother take the fall?" I whisper. "Anna hates her now! And no wonder!"

Tears stream down Abby's cheeks again. "I know, I know, I know," she wails, voice cracking. "I don't want Anna to know what I've done to her! It's all my fault! And now I can't go away to college next year. No one's going to recruit me. The SDS teams suck. It doesn't matter how good I am. I am only a star on an incompetent team. The girls at SHS, they're super stars on a team of super stars. If I had gone to SHS…if I had…" Abby's voice breaks off. "I probably won't even be able to go to Stoneybrook University! It's still expensive. My grades aren't that good. No one will give me a scholarship. Anna will get a scholarship, but I won't. That's why I stole all those papers and why I'm doing everyone else's homework."

"I'm sorry, Abby," I tell her, then my voice tightens. "But that's really no excuse. You stole from your friends and you cheated. You could be expelled from school! And worst of all, look at what you've done to your mother and sister. You need to tell Anna the truth."

Abby stops crying and laughs. It isn't Abby's regular, jovial laugh. It's biting and bitter. "Oh, oh, don't lecture me, Shannon Kilbourne," she says. "You aren't any better than me. You're a liar, too. I didn't judge you. Don't you dare judge me."

"This isn't the same at all," I protest.

Abby laughs again.

I glower at her.

"Kristy's right," Abby tells me. "You are selfish."

"And you're a cheat. A cheat and a thief and a liar."

"Takes one to know one."

"And immature!" I add, furiously. I stomp toward the door, passing Abby on the way. "I won't turn you in. Just stop selling my papers."

"I won't turn you in either," she promises a bit nastily.

I open the door and shoot her a final dirty look. Then I leave. I leave Abby slumped back against the wall. She's crying again. And I don't care.