A/N: I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why I chose the last chapter's title. I was all like, "Tom and Sherry . . . why do I like that name so much?" And then it hit me. Tom and Jerry! I can't believe that hadn't occurred to me! And now I think that's pretty much the funniest chapter title ever, partly because I can't believe I'm that stupid, and partly because it's just plain hilarious.

These next few chapters are very small time-jumps, like days or weeks. A lot happens in their tenth-grade year. But I do have a plan. You might not all like that plan, but I do have it, and that's what's important.

Sally didn't understand the looks she'd been receiving for the past few days. They were pitying, curious, and one or two were even resentful. And everywhere she went, whispers followed. She assumed she was part of some juicy gossip, and that she'd find out about it later. She wasn't going to worry, though — she had better things to do.

It wasn't everyone, of course; the guys didn't seem to care, and even most of the girls acted fairly normal around her. It was the school's elite, the gossipmongers, the ones who always hunted her friends down as their targets, that really seemed to follow her every movement with bated breath and hungry stares.

And she'd admit it: it scared the crap out of her. Because Sherry had been strutting around with a smug grin on her face. And anything that made Sherry that happy couldn't possibly be a good thing.

Sally passed a group of girls that were entering their science class. They were another gang of quote-unquote "losers" that she wasn't exactly friends with but didn't mind talking to from time to time. They all looked the same, dressed the same, and even acted the same — it was hard to tell them apart, to be honest. She smiled at them, trying to remember which was which (of course, they all had the same classes). Jane, Janet, Jackie, and Jamie. That was it. "Hi," she said cheerfully, relieved that she'd remembered all their names.

Three of the girls smiled halfheartedly, while the fourth — Jamie, she thought — merely nodded, her jaw set. Sally's grin faded, and she ducked her head, brushing past them.

As she settled into her seat by the window, they all sat down in chairs a few rows ahead of hers. They leaned toward each other and started whispering; they were trying to be quiet, but their voices carried easily back to Sally.

"What does he see in her, anyway?" Jamie hissed. "She's not even that pretty."

While the others fervently agreed, Jane glanced back at Sally thoughtfully. Clearly none of them should consider a career in reconnaissance — they were about as subtle as an earthquake. She pretended she didn't notice, though, because she wanted to see why they were discussing her. "She's kind of nice-looking," Jane said, turning back to her friends. "She's definitely his type. Very bookish."

"Well, she's not as cute as you," Janet added.

"Of course not," Jackie agreed.

"I can be bookish, can't I?" Jamie asked anxiously.

"Absolutely!" Jane said.

"Totally," Janet agreed.

"And you could pull it off better than she can," Jackie finished. They were rather like clones, Sally observed. Four bodies, one brain. It was a mean thing to think, but seeing as they were talking about her (and not favorably), she thought she had the right to be a little catty.

They all turned to her, and she pretended to write in her notebook until they'd looked away.

"Do you think she knows?" one of them asked.

"Probably not. I mean, would you tell her?"

"Maybe she's already heard."

"Then why would she still hang out with him?"

"That'd just be cruel."

"Unless they're dating."

Jane, Janet, and Jamie all gasped theatrically at this pronouncement, and Jamie put her hands over her mouth. "They are, aren't they?" she breathed, looking like the world was going to end. "Oh, this is just too awful!"

Come on, Sally thought. She still didn't know what was going on, but practically nothing warranted such a dramatic response. Show some grit, for crying out loud.

"Nuh-uh," Jane, the most sensible one — probably the one with the largest portion of their collective brain — said, shaking her head so that strands of purple hair hit Janet and Jackie. "We'd have heard." She patted Jamie on the shoulder. "You've still got a chance, hon."

Jamie giggled, shot one last haughty glance at Sally, and launched into a long-winded story about some girl who'd cut in front of her in the hallway. As the other girls cooed at and coddled poor Jamie, Sally decided that there was no point in eavesdropping, as the class was starting.

She listened to the teacher drone on, occasionally writing down a word or phrase and watching the clock. She wasn't paying as close attention as she should have — a large portion of her brain was pondering the conversation she'd overheard. She wasn't overly concerned with being talked about, but it was certainly a bizarre experience. She'd never been the subject of gossip, and she didn't enjoy it.

And, of course, she couldn't help but wonder what they'd been talking about. She hadn't done anything newsworthy, had she?

She was drawn back into the classroom by the sound of her name from the back of the room. She glanced up at the teacher, who probably wouldn't have noticed if a meteor hit the room, and turned toward the back.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she saw Tom. His friends were all laughing uproariously at something he'd said. She angled herself so that she was still facing the front of the room, but kept her head turned toward their general direction.

"— actually think he has a shot with Sally?" Tom said. "I mean, what is he, stupid?"

"Yeah," one of his friends answered, causing another round of hilarity.

"I don't think he's that bad," someone else said. "He's actually pretty nice."

Silence fell over the group. It was a tense silence, the kind that meant everyone was waiting for someone's head to go flying. Tom just looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Go. Now," he ordered, a small smile on his face.

The guy glanced from Tom to the others, unsure if it was a joke or not. But when Tom flicked his hand toward the back of the room, the Who stood, gathering his books and hurrying away. The teacher, to Sally's amazement, had noticed nothing.

"I swear, Mayor McLoser gets lamer every day," Tom continued, as though there had been no interruption. Sally stiffened, her jaw clenching. Thanks to Sherry and a few of her half-wit friends, that name had spread across the school, and was the favorite insult of anyone who didn't like Ned. For a while, it had merely been "Mayor Loser," but around the ninth grade, they'd realized that "McLoser" sounded more like "McDodd." When Ned and Sally had first heard the new nickname, it had amused them to no end — he'd actually suggested giving them some sort of prize for finally learning his last name. But now, almost a year later, it had just grown irritating.

Suddenly she heard the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, followed by footsteps. She turned to see Tom sit down in the seat next to hers. She looked down so that she wasn't looking directly at him, but could still see him in her peripheral vision.

"Hey, Sal," he said. "Boring class, huh?"

She looked up and gave him a strained smile and a nod, but quickly dropped her eyes to her notebook again. Anyone who insulted her friends didn't deserve a minute of her time, and anyone who insulted Ned didn't deserve a second of it. She hoped Tom would get the hint quickly. However, seeing as he was a senior in a sophomore science class, her hopes weren't exactly high. She wondered if he was stupid or lazy. She guessed he just didn't care about science, since he was in advanced Whostory. It didn't make sense.

"Hey, have you seen McLos — I mean, McDodd — recently?"

Sally kept her head bent over her desk before deciding that she couldn't reasonably ignore the question. Besides, she was curious as to where this conversation was going. "This morning," she replied coolly. "Why?" She tried to make her voice as flat and uninterested as possible; she didn't want to encourage him.

He smiled, leaning back in his seat with a very satisfied air. "It's nice that you spend time with him, considering. . . . " He trailed off, looking up at the teacher with exaggerated nonchalance.

She couldn't resist replying to that dig. "Of course I hang out with him," she snapped. "He's my best friend. Why wouldn't I hang out with him?"

Tom nodded. "Yep. Friends. I'm sure friendship is what he has in mind." And that tone, combined with a knowing grin and a wink. . . . How could she not get it?

All the blood drained out of her face. "What?" she whispered, not even caring that she was supposed to hate Tom, not even caring that she was supposed to be listening to the teacher. None of that compared to the gigantic, colossal, monstrous realization she'd just come to.

And, had she been able to move, she would have slapped herself. Because of course. That was why he didn't want her to ask Tom out (which she hadn't, thank God). That was why Jamie — who had told her that she liked Ned weeks ago — was so upset with her. That was why Sherry was so happy; she must have spread that all around the school.

And little things made sense now, too. Why Ned wouldn't look directly at her when they were talking, but would stare at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Why he jumped like he'd been struck with white-hot metal when their hands or arms or legs brushed. Why he blushed when there was no reason to.

Of course. Now that she knew, it was completely obvious. The only thing that didn't make sense was how she could have possibly missed it. Was she that self-absorbed?

But how could she have known? Who can look at their best friend and say, "Oh yeah, he totally likes me." Who could be that objective?

"You didn't hear it from me," Tom whispered, smiling. Sally didn't respond.

"Birch!" the teacher suddenly barked, startling Sally. "Get back in your seat!"

Tom rolled his eyes at Sally, climbing slowly to his feet. "See you, Sal," he said, patting her shoulder. She shrank back, feeling a shiver of revulsion from his touch. Amazing how fast crushes disappeared. In the span of five minutes she'd gone from infatuation to abhorrence. The world was a strange place.

The teacher wrote the homework on the board, and she copied it down obediently. She had no idea what the assignment was. When the bell rang, she bolted out of her seat, shoving Jamie and Janet out of the way.

Lunch was next, which was a relief — she had to talk to Sarah.

Luckily she was sitting with Patrick at their usual table. When she saw Sally's face, she leapt to her feet.

"Oh my god, you've heard," she said, looking sympathetic and guilty. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I —"

She broke off as Patrick stood wordlessly and left, almost sprinting toward the door.

Sarah watched him go, a confused expression on her face, then turned back toward Sally, shaking her head. "Anyway, I'm sorry I — Wait. What do you know?" She put both hands, palms down, onto the table and leaned forward. "Tell me everything."

Ned had hardly entered the cafeteria when Patrick collided with him, knocking them both into the wall.

"Patrick, what. . . . Are you okay?" Ned asked, wincing and rubbing the back of his head, which had hit the wall pretty hard.

Patrick waved his hand, disregarding both his and Ned's possible injuries. "Listen, Ned . . . Sally knows."

"Knows? Knows wha - Oh." He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. "What do I do?"

Patrick shrugged. "Hey, I asked you that about a week ago, back when this whole thing started. What possibly made you think she wouldn't find out?"

"I. . . ." What had convinced Ned was a stupid, insane hope, hope that had morphed into optimism and then into utter certainty. Clearly he was crazy, but it's hard to combat that kind of hope. "How much does she know?"

"Well, she's talking to Sarah now, so . . . everything."

"What do I do?"

Patrick looked absolutely stumped. "I have no clue, Ned," he said sadly. "You could always lie, and say you never liked her, and that it was just a rumor that had gotten out of control."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can't lie."

"Then maybe you could . . . Oh, shi — Gotta go." He brushed back Ned, heading in the other direction.

Ned turned around to see Sally, standing behind him with her hands folded in front of her. She had been biting her lips, and a small dot of blood sat like a small bead on her lower lip. Her hair was frizzy from running her fingers through it, and slightly damp with sweat. She looked nervous enough to pee herself.

And she was absolutely beautiful.

Probably not to anyone else, he thought, noticing people walk past without a second glance at either of them. But they didn't know her.

"Ned?"

Sally was worried about her best friend. For one thing, his eyes were about three times too large, and he was shaking like a leaf. She wanted to give him a hug, try to stop those tremors. Like she would if there weren't . . . complications. She took a deep breath, wiped at the blood on her lip, and continued. "Can we talk?"

His face paled. He swallowed, and gestured toward the wall, seemingly unable to speak.

When they reached relative privacy, they both looked at each other for a few minutes, waiting. Finally Ned said, "You had something you wanted to say?" His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't been using it all day.

"Ah, yeah." She took a deep breath. "I've heard some . . . things."

She'd expected him to deny it, but to her relief he didn't. "I know," he said softly, looking down at his feet. "And I'm sorry." He was going to make this easy for her. Of course he would — this was Ned. He'd go out of his way to help anyone. "But it's okay, because Patrick says it's just a crush, and — let's face it — he knows much more about it . . . well, these kinds of things . . . this general area of knowledge . . . you know . . . than I do. So it'll be like normal soon." Under his breath, he muttered, "I don't know how soon, though."

Sally didn't know what to say. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and said, "But . . . I . . . are you okay?"

He smiled. "Of course I'm okay. I'll be fine."

"Ned . . ." Sally closed her eyes again. "Is it going to be weird between us now?"

He shrugged. "It might be. But I'm always weird. I'm used to it."

She couldn't smile at his weak attempt at humor. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Hey — don't be. You're not allowed to be sorry. Okay?" She started to say something, but he interrupted her. "Let me put it this way: If you are sorry, then I'll beat you up."

She laughed, and he pretended to be offended. "You don't think I could beat you up?"

"Ned, I don't think you could beat a chipmunk up," she shot back.

He pouted exaggeratedly, and the tension broke. They started walking back to their table, where Sarah and Patrick were pretending not to watch them.

"Why are you so nice?" Sally asked.

"I don't know. It must just be one of my Awesome Powers of Ned."

"Powers? Plural?"

"Yes. It so happens that I have many powers."

"Like what?"

He paused, his eyebrows scrunching together. "I . . . well . . . I have an uncanny ability to get hit in the face repeatedly with a stapler. My face is a stapler magnet."

Sally rolled her eyes. "Ned, I threw the stapler at you! It didn't throw itself!"

"But your aim is so bad that it never would have hit me. It swerved so that it would hit my face!"

"Fine, fine." Sally knew she would never win this argument. "Any other powers?"

"I'm adorable."

"Oh, really?"

"Sure. You don't think so?" He threw his head back and put a hand on his hip, batting his eyelashes and grinning vapidly. "I'm amazing, aren't I?"

"Yes, you're gorgeous. The vision of loveliness."

He looked down at her, dropping the pose. "Do I detect sarcasm in that statement?"

"No. Not at all," Sally replied sarcastically.

Ned sniffed daintily. "Fine. If you don't appreciate my beauty, I'll go find someone who does." He strode ahead of her, swinging his hips like a runway model.

She hurried to catch up with him, laughing. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're beautiful."

He raised his eyebrows. "'Sorry?'"

"Oh, right. I'm sor — agh!" She clapped her hands over her mouth.

Ned sighed. "All right. I guess I won't beat you up today. But next time, you'd better watch out."

Sally smiled. "You'd better not cry." He looked confused, so she continued, adding a slightly melodic note it her words. "You'd better not pout. . . ."

His face lit up. "I'm telling you why," he finished, shaking his head. "Very festive. And good timing — Christmas vacation starts tomorrow." He kept walking, singing the rest of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town!" Sally lagged behind, watching him carefully.

He was trying too hard. His voice was just a little too loud, his smile was just a little too bright, his jokes were just a little too forced to be completely real. He was trying very hard for her, and she was trying just as hard for him. And that made everything weird. It made their awkwardness that much more prominent.

Oh, well. Sally sat down next to Patrick, smiling reassuringly at Sarah. It would get better with time. She watched Patrick and Ned argue over whether or not chocolate was better than vanilla, and Sarah tell them they were both being stupid, that strawberry beat them both. Sally didn't really feel like joining in, but she felt a warm feeling inside watching them bicker. They were her friends, and they always would be, no matter how weird things got.

She took a bite into her sandwich, noticing Ned's happy expression darken for a split second when he thought no one was looking.

Maybe.

A/N: Ugh! Why do all my recent chapters suck? I'm sorry, people. That was supposed to turn out better. I blame the computer. Grr . . .

All right. Well, I'm going to go boil my brain and pray that this seems better to you than to me. You seemed to enjoy the last chapter; maybe you'll like this one.