"Come on, Marco." We're sitting on the concrete wall that runs alongside the steps, our legs hanging over a small drop. "You're starting to freak me out."

Now that it's time to say it, I don't have any words. I've rehearsed this hundreds of times in my mirror, but suddenly every joke, every explanation, every smart comment is sucked out of my head like someone held a vacuum up to my ear. I scan the sky and see the shadow of a hawk circling well out of earshot. Tobias dips one wing at us and disappears over the building. Gone, but not too far.

"I don't really know how to, you know, put it into . . . like, human sentences." God, that sounded stupid. I'm supposed to be good at talking! "It's kinda hard to explain."

Jake waits patiently, gazing out at the small stand of woods on the edge of campus. If it wasn't for the set in his jaw, you'd think he was perfectly at ease waiting to hear whatever announcement was so important it pulled him out of class. I wonder if he knows.

Please, God, let him know and make this easier on me.

Please, God, don't let him know and make this easier on him.

"Listen, Jake, I'm a little . . . gay. A lot, actually."

He freezes for about half a second, then nods. It's a jerky movement, a quick up-and-down with his chin that I know means he's surprised, but already accepting it. "Oh. Okay." Then he glances at me, and I can see that he's worried he's not making a big enough deal about it. After all, it couldn't wait until the end of class. . . . "I mean, good for you. That's cool. I . . . you know that I'll always be your best friend no matter what, right? This doesn't change anything."

This is the awful part. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, savoring his support and hoping that my next words won't totally shatter it. "Actually, it kinda does."

I should've known Cassie would be the first to figure it out — and that Jake would be the last. He's such a lunkhead and she's so perceptive; they really work well together, much as I hate to say it. But that's not nice, and I've promised myself that I'll be better about the two of them. I'm really trying, and most of the time I'm happy that they're so happy together. It's just that, on occasion, I feel like I'm going to throw up and want to punch something until either it or I fall down. I guess that's one of the uglier sides of love, the kind that boy bands won't sing about.

It happened a few days ago — the day I was talking about earlier, with the date story. The meeting was over and everyone was a little angry (we'd decided the Yeerks were planning something nasty but there was nothing we could do about it but wait, a situation that no one was thrilled with). Jake's Frustration Face was in full strength, and it took more willpower than I'd like to admit to keep from going up to him and trying to smooth the worry lines off his forehead. I was lagging behind a little, as usual, when I heard her voice by my ear. "Hey, can we talk for a second? I really need help with that math homework." She said it loud enough for the others to hear, and with a little wave pulled me back into the barn.

For a few moments we just sat in uncomfortable silence. I flopped onto a hay bale with my arms crossed and a sullen expression — like I said, we were all cranky — while she hovered awkwardly above me, fiddling with a hole in her overalls. "I'm sorry about your date," she finally said. "That's a real shame."

I shrugged. "Like I said, no big deal. Appreciate all the caring, but I'm really fine, if that's all this is about." I moved to stand up and follow the others.

"Do you ever think, maybe . . . you're sabotaging your dates?"

That made me freeze. Mouth hanging open slightly, I paused in my half-crouched position and blinked up at her. "Come again?"

She shrugged. "I just wondered if . . . well, if you were messing them up on purpose."

Recovering control of my limbs, I sat back down and tried to arrange my face into an amused expression. "And why exactly would I do that?"

"You tell me." Now it was her turn to cross her arms and mine to shrug.

"I have no idea, Cassie. This is your little drama. I'm just an actor here." I did a reasonable job appearing cool and unconcerned, and I like to think that with someone less discerning, like Rachel, I could've passed for nonchalant. I had to keep my hands pressed against the hay to disguise how sweaty they'd gotten, and my heart was pounding so loud and fast I half-expected Tobias to swoop in in search of prey, but otherwise I was cool as a cucumber.

Suddenly Jake popped his head in. "Marco, you done? Looks like rain, and I promised Mom I'd be home to help with dinner." He rolled his eyes and leaned against the doors, running a hand through his hair in an especially attention-drawing way.

And there went any hope of me fooling the Queen of Noticing Things. One look at my face — I can't even imagine the expression — and the way I immediately looked down at my feet, and it was all over. "Just a minute," she said brightly, snatching up her backpack and opening it. "Got a few questions I just can't figure out. Can you go check and make sure none of the chickens escaped? Dad thinks they're learning how to open the gate." Once he was gone, she knelt down, putting one hand on my knee. "Marco."

For a moment I considered just keeping my gaze on my feet and not saying anything. La la la, I can't hear you. Just looking at some mighty attractive sneakers. But I couldn't do that, and I didn't really want to.

After a while it gets really hard trying to keep a secret all by yourself.

I looked up at her face with a desperation I hadn't expected and couldn't control. Part of me assumed she'd be glaring at me, demanding I get my perverted paws off her unofficial boyfriend, but of course that was stupid. She was simply looking, her lips pressed together in a thin line. She didn't seem angry, just resigned. Resigned and sad.

It came out no stronger than a whisper: "I don't know what to do."

"Me neither." She moved to sit next to me and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me over until my head rested against her own. "But I think you have to tell him."

"I'd really rather not." She laughed hollowly, and I couldn't help but smile. For someone I sometimes sort-of hated, she was actually very nice. I did want to steal her boyfriend, after all. Not that I ever would. He was happy, and I'm not exactly his type.

"I still think it'd be good for you. For both of you."

"Probably." We sat in silence, wallowing in shared misery. "Do I have to do it now, though?"

She shook her head, her coarse and kinky hair rubbing against my temple. "No. Not until you're ready."

"And if I never am?"

She paused, and we listened to the sounds of Jake crunching around the barnyard and calling for the chickens. "I don't know."