Monday morning, I'm bent over the drinking fountain outside the administration building, taking a sip of cool water when I hear a wistful, dramatic sigh. I raise my eyes, still drinking, and see Greer Carson leaning back against the wall, hugging her bag, and looking very tragic. I lower my eyes again and hope she doesn't see me roll them.

"Hello, Greer," I greet her, straightening up and wiping a bead of water off my upper lip.

Greer sighs again. "I'm in love," she announces.

I roll my eyes and start to walk away. I really don't have time for this. Not after the weekend I just had. Greer's in love every other week. I have important concerns on my mind.

"Why are you walking away?" Greer calls out, catching up to me. "I want to tell you about him! His name's Jacob and he's so cute. He lives on my brother's floor at Yale. He's an engineering major…or something. Anyway, he has this kind of feathery strawberry blonde hair and these dark brown eyes. It's like looking into pools of melted chocolate. And – "

"You know, Greer," I cut her off, "I'm thrilled that you got laid this weekend, but I really don't have time for this."

"I never said I slept with him," Greer hisses. "Jeez, Shannon, do you have to be so nasty about it? I just wanted to tell you about my weekend. I thought you might care."

I stop outside my European history classroom and turn to Greer. "You know, I had a horrible weekend," I inform her.

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"Right, how are you? Because you took off to New Haven for the weekend to screw drunken frat boys. Thanks a lot for that, Greer."

Greer sucks in her breath. "Jeez, Shannon, I'm so sorry for having a life that doesn't include you. I've been holding your hand for the last week! I supported you and listened and I put up with your stupid schemes. You were nothing but nasty to me before and you're nothing but nasty to me now. How long can you mope around feeling sorry for yourself? Get over yourself!" Greer whirls around and stomps off.

I follow after her, even though the first bell's rung and we should be heading to class. I push her into a corner near the math wing.

"You think you're such a great friend?" I demand, placing my hands on my hips. "Well, you're not. You wanted Mick the entire time I was dating him and then you couldn't wait to jump him the minute he humiliated me with tulips and a break-up note!"

"I never would have gone after him if you hadn't been so mean to me! I apologized and apologized for what I said about you being a prude. I knew he was off-limits. But you let everything drag on. You refused to even consider my apology. That's your problem, Shannon. You always have to be right. You always have to be in control. You want everyone to do what you want and if they don't, then screw them. You don't listen to anything you don't want to hear. You're probably not even listening right now." Greer slides past me and rushes down the hall, her bag swinging as she runs. She turns and disappears down the foreign language wing.

I never should have considered forgiving her. What was I thinking? Greer Carson is only a friend when it's convenient for her.

I don't see Greer again until lunch period. Even though I'm still furious with her for her insensitivity, I pull out a chair at her table and slide in across from her and Sally. I could eat alone, but I won't give Greer the satisfaction.

"So, what was so awful about your weekend?" Greer asks the moment I sit down. "You weren't driving around the Birch Street apartments for two days were you?"

I narrow my eyes as I screw off the top of my bottled apple juice. I take a long sip, still glaring. I'm glad my life is such a great source of entertainment for Greer.

"God, Starshine!" Sally exclaims, looking at me over her sandwich. "Are you still not eating?"

I shrug and take another sip. "This is all I want."

Greer and Sally exchange a look, then Greer returns her focus to me. She points at me with her granola bar. "If you don't start eating, I'm going to tell Dr. Patek that you're anorexic."

"Oh, yes, Greer, that will do a lot of good," I reply, sarcastically.

"You're going to faint again," Sally tells me.

"Yeah, Sally told me what happened at her house," Greer says.

"Thanks so much, Sally!" I cry. "Did you tell her everything?"

"No."

Greer leans forward. "What more was there?" she wants to know.

I tilt back in my chair and fold my arms. "I don't even like you, Greer Carson, so why should I tell you?"

"Because there's no one else willing to listen," Greer snaps.

I clamp my mouth shut and refuse to speak. I refuse to look at Greer.

Sally throws her sandwich down. "This is getting ridiculous," she says and turns to Greer. "She's still stalking that guy. She went to his school and tracked him down."

"Thanks, Sally!" I shout. "You're just as bad as Kristy!"

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you. Right now, I'm much more fond of Kat than I am of you."

I open my mouth to shoot back a biting remark, but Greer holds her hands up in a time-out gesture. "Stop! I want to know what happened at the school," she says, firmly.

I still refuse to speak to her.

So, Sally and Greer pretend I'm not here. They make me invisible. They carry on a conversation about me, in front of me, and do not acknowledge me.

"She's gotten out of control," Greer says to Sally. "This is just dumb."

"She doesn't listen," Sally says.

"She wasn't always like this," Greer assures her. "She used to care about other people. Or at least I thought she did."

"You know I can hear you," I interrupt.

Sally turns to look at me, her expression blank. "We know," she replies, then goes back to discussing me with Greer.

Meg Jardin comes to our table. She stops beside it, resting her hands on the end. She's becoming a pest.

"Is it true about Lindsey?" she asks, completely disregarding that there's a conversation in progress. How rude. "That she has mono?"

Greer nods. "Yeah, her grandfather called my house and told my mom. She won't be back until after Christmas vacation."

So, this is the lie? The lie we're telling to cover for Lindsey? It's nice that someone informed me! Did they? I've been very busy averting crises. I've not had time to return phone calls or read the messages Maria taped to my door.

"Can we visit her?" Meg asks.

"What do you care?" I snap. "You aren't her friend anymore."

Meg looks hurt. "I don't want Lindsey to be sick," she says.

"Well, she is sick. Where were you?"

"You've gotten really mean, Shan," Meg tells me. "You know who you sound like?"

"No, who do I sound like?" I ask, mockingly.

"Like your mother."

Meg turns and walks away.

My jaw drops. The nerve of her!

"Can you believe that?" I demand.

Sally regards me, coolly, for a moment then turns back to Greer. "Does Lindsey really have mono?" she asks. "Did she hit someone else with a bat?"

"Of course she has mono!" Greer insists. "Her grandparents would never lie! They're religious!"

"We should send her flowers."

"Why don't you send her orchids?" I suggest, nastily.

"Why don't you shut up?" Sally snaps.

Greer and Sally resume discussing Lindsey. They don't speak to me or about me again.

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After school, I drive to the A&P and purchase a bottle of apple-scented shampoo, plus a bottle of conditioner. Then I drive to Mary Anne's house. I haven't spoken to her since yesterday morning. Abby and I left her house around eleven when her dad came home from his business trip. He seemed surprised to find Abby and me there. We didn't tell him anything. We acted completely normal. We had scrubbed away any evidence that something had gone terribly wrong the night before. Mary Anne stood in the doorway and waved as we backed down the drive. She looked a lot like Lindsey the last time I saw her. Haunted and hollow.

I ring the bell at Mary Anne's house. Tigger's stretched out on the front porch having found a tiny patch of sun on this mostly gray day. He rolls onto his side and stares up at me, spreading his paws and toes. It must be nice to be a cat. Tigger has no problems. Not like me. Not like Mary Anne.

Mary Anne opens the door. She's wearing those hideous green plaid pants of hers, the ones she wore the night we searched for Tiffany. Her hair is draped partway over the left side of her face, attempting to hide the bruise I know is there.

"Hi, Mary Anne," I say. I hold out the shampoo and conditioner. "I brought you something." I figured she'd never want to smell ripe raspberries again.

"Oh, thanks," she says and takes the bottles. She looks tired, but more or less like Mary Anne - regular, every day Mary Anne. It seems like she should be altered on the outside. It should be obvious that something has changed her forever. There should be more to it than a bruise that will fade. I am broken down, too, and it shows on me.

"Can I come in?" I ask.

"I guess," Mary Anne answers and holds open the door.

Tigger darts in before me as I step over the threshold. Mary Anne leads me through the foyer past the living room. She doesn't pause near its doorway. She walks straight past as if it does not exist, as if nothing ever existed there. Maybe that's how it will always be. That room, that couch, that entire space will never again exist for Mary Anne. Mary Anne leads me up the stairs, wordlessly, and into her bedroom. I sit down on Mary Anne's bed and Mary Anne settles into her vinyl desk chair. She sets the shampoo and conditioner on the desk.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

Mary Anne shrugs.

"Did you go to school?"

Mary Anne nods. "Yes. I stayed home this morning, but then I decided I didn't want to be alone. Everyone stared at me. It was like they knew."

"They were probably staring at your bruise," I point out.

"Yes, but it's the same thing."

I scoot back on the bed, so I'm against the wall. "Have you heard from…you know?" I ask.

Mary Anne shakes her head.

I don't know if I should be annoyed or relieved. I expected Mrs. Marshall to call. Maybe she decided Abby's call was a prank. Good. Good. That's what Mary Anne wanted.

"Do you want to talk about it some more?"

Mary Anne shakes her head again. "I don't want to discuss it ever again," she says. "I want it to go away. I want it to have never happened. Let's not talk about it. Let's not think about it."

I wonder if this is right.

"All right, Mary Anne," I reply, nodding. "If that's what you want. We'll pretend it never happened."

"That's what I want."

"All right."

Mary Anne swivels slightly in her chair using her right foot. Back and forth. Back and forth. "I'm supposed to go to Sharon's parents' house for dinner. They want us to reconcile. That's why I'm wearing these pants. Sharon's mom bought them for me. I hate them, but Sharon makes me wear them anyway. I wear them every time I see her parents." Mary Anne studies her right thumbnail, very intently. "I don't want to go over there. I think if Sharon sees me, she'll know. She'll know what's happened and she'll blame me. It's like I'm marked now. Not just by the bruise. That will go away. I'm marked forever. It's like I'm tainted."

"You shouldn't be ashamed, Mary Anne," I tell her. "You did nothing wrong. You did nothing to deserve this."

"That doesn't help how I feel."

I watch Mary Anne. She'll feel better in a few days. Abby and I did exactly as she asked. This is what she wanted. We've washed it out. Out and away. In a few days, Mary Anne will realize this was not her fault. She'll realize and she'll feel better.

"I broke up with Pete," Mary Anne says suddenly. "I mean, we broke up last spring, but sometimes we're still together. Sort of. He's wanted me back since I broke it off. I've strung him along, always changing my mind. I think I'm a tease. I think Mr. Marshall knew that. I told Pete, it's really over. For good, for sure. I told him to move on. I let him go."

"Pete and Mr. Marshall have nothing to do with each other," I say. How many times must I tell her? This is not her fault. She doesn't listen.

Mary Anne shrugs.

We're silent for awhile and it doesn't appear like Mary Anne intends to speak again, so I tell her, "I wish Wes wanted me back the way Pete wants you."

"You're probably better off."

"No, I'm not," I answer. I cross my legs, staring down at the toes of my loafers. "I love him, even if he doesn't believe I do. I need him. I miss him so much. I miss everything about him. I miss how he'd check up on me, worrying about me, and I miss how he made me feel. I want him back, but you know what, Mary Anne? I don't think I'll ever get him back. I keep waiting, but I don't think he's coming back."

"I'm sorry."

"You're the only one then."

Mary Anne finally stops moving the chair. She sits still. She stares at me. It's odd. Blank.

"Can you leave now?" she asks me.

"What?" I reply, confused.

"I'm sorry, but can you leave now?" Mary Anne repeats. "I'd like to be alone. I'd like to lie down. And can you not come back? I appreciate what you did for me. You and Abby. But I'd like to not see either of you for awhile. I'm sorry. I hope you understand."

I don't. I don't understand at all. I slide off the bed and rise to my feet, absolutely mystified. I'm not sure if I should understand or if I should be offended. I don't know, so I simply nod and say goodbye. Mary Anne doesn't walk me out. I guess it doesn't matter.

I drive home. I wish I could talk to someone about this. I promised Mary Anne though. I won't break my promise. Not like other people. And I can't talk to Abby. Abby will only want to tell her mother or Elizabeth or some other adult who doesn't need to be involved.

When I pull into my driveway, Abby's across the street in her front yard with Claudia and Erica. They wave, but I don't wave back. I pretend I don't see them. What's Abby doing with Claudia anyway? Probably thinking of new ways to steal money from her sister. Abby's such a hypocrite. And she doesn't even know it.

"Hey, Shannon!" Abby bellows when I climb out of the car.

I ignore her.

"Hey, Shannon!" Abby shouts again. "Stop pretending you can't hear me! Come over here! I want you to hear this!"

Scowling, I stalk across the street. Even though Claudia and Erica are waving and smiling, I don't acknowledge either. I don't care that they didn't rat me out to an adult, that they were smart enough to realize my relationship with Wes was my own business. I just don't care.

"What?" I ask with a sigh.

Abby elbows Erica in the ribs. "You tell her," Abby orders.

"Why?"

"Because you told me. You're the one with the whole story."

I lose my patience. "What is it?" I demand.

"Mr. and Mrs. Marshall are getting divorced!" Claudia exclaims.

I blink.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I heard correctly.

Abby gives me a meaningful look, then nudges Erica again. "Tell her the story."

"Okay," Erica begins. "So, I heard this from Julie, but it's totally true! I know because Emily confirmed it. Or at least she grunted in confirmation. Anyway, so Julie and Emily live on the same street as the Marshalls. So, Saturday night…or really, Sunday morning, I guess, the entire street awakes to screaming. It's like two-thirty in the morning. Everyone runs to their windows and sees Mrs. Marshall tossing all of Mr. Marshall's things out on the front lawn. She's ranting and raving and cursing. Everyone comes out of their houses and stands on the sidewalk, watching. Mrs. Marshall throws everything onto the lawn – his clothes, his books, just everything, and Mr. Marshall just stands there with this huge bandage on his nose – I don't know why – and he's pleading with her for one more chance. And Mrs. Marshall's ranting at him and shrieks that she's tired of his perversions and fetishes and then she throws a box of magazines at him and they spill out all over the lawn, but it's too dark for anyone to see what they are exactly. But Julie and Emily's parents think the Marshalls are swingers and into kinky S&M games with Chinese hookers. Honestly though, I think that's just something Julie's mom made up and the rest are spreading around. And that's the end of the story." Erica takes a long breath.

"Is this true?" I ask Abby, skeptically.

"Apparently," Abby says and gives me another meaningful look.

I'm really not sure what to think. So, Mrs. Marshall did believe Abby's phone call. But…she believed it and never called to check on Mary Anne? That's weird. But maybe for the best. Mary Anne doesn't want any adults involved after all.

"Well, we have to go tell Kristy!" Claudia announces and waves as she and Erica start down the street.

When they're gone, Abby opens her mouth. "So, what do – "

I interrupt her. "I'm still not speaking to you," I say and turn and jog back across the street.

When I enter my house, I hear the television blaring in the living room. I cross the foyer to the doorway and see Maria sitting on the couch, watching some ancient sitcom and drinking a soda.

"Turn that down, Maria!" I shout over the noise of the television.

Surprisingly, Maria obeys.

I walk through the living room on my way toward the kitchen and Maria turns around on the couch, resting her elbows on its back, staring at me.

"You missed Mrs. Bryar," she informs me.

I spin around. "Mrs. Bryar came back!" I exclaim. I knew she didn't really quit. How could she?

"Yeah," Maria says. "She came to return her key. She also brought me cream cheese walnut brownies and I've hidden them in my bedroom and you can't have any."

My heart sinks. Mrs. Bryar returned her key?

"And also," Maria continues, "Mrs. Bryar wanted me to remind you to mail her her check. Or she said she can pick it up tomorrow."

My heart is no longer sinking. Instead, my blood is boiling. Is that all Mrs. Bryar cares about? Her check? I certainly hope she doesn't expect a Christmas bonus this year!

"And also," Maria says, "since this is the last check you're ever going to write out to her, do you think you could spell her first name correctly? She hasn't really complained, but she has mentioned it a couple times. I think it annoys her. Her name doesn't have an i."

I glare at Maria and whirl around, stomping out of the living room and up the stairs. I have much more pressing concerns on my mind than how Mrs. Bryar prefers to spell her first name!

Halfway up the stairs, I turn around and run back down. I hurry into the study and retrieve my checkbook and a stamp and envelope from the desk. I write out Mrs. Bryar's final check. Good riddance, I think as I write it. I make sure to spell her first name with two i's then add an i to "Bryar" for good measure. That will show her.