Olivia Bennett: The Allegra Biscotti Collection

Then again, Emma hadn’t ever tried to get into the popular crowd—not like Holly seemed to be doing now for some reason. Emma had realized that the only hope she had of getting to know Jackson was through the new Holly-Ivana alliance. At least that was a teeny, tiny ray of hope…because otherwise, there would have been no chance of their worlds ever crossing beyond the few classes they were both in.

There was a major downside to this social bridge to Jackson. Ivana came with Lexie, who so obviously wanted to be Jackson’s girlfriend. Emma had seen Lexie purposely sit next to Jackson in biology on the first day of school, so she would wind up being his lab partner. And even though Lexie’s locker was on a different corridor, Emma noticed that Lexie was always hanging out at Kayla’s and Shannon’s lockers, which were much closer to Jackson’s.

It was within the realm of possibility, Emma supposed, that that particular piece of evidence could have less to do with Lexie being after Jackson and more to do with the Ivana-Bees’ inability to be separated for more than thirty seconds at a stretch, but Emma highly doubted it.

After years of being in the same small school together, Emma knew that Lexie wasn’t the type of girl who ever lost at anything. She got straight A’s; she was the captain of the middle-school field-hockey team, which was undefeated last year; and most importantly, every semester since sixth grade, Lexie had decided who was going to be her boyfriend, and within a few weeks, she and the guy were a couple.

Not that Emma would ever admit it to anyone, but sometimes she envied Lexie’s focus, drive, and determination. Lexie saw what she wanted and went after it. As Emma’s brother, William, always said, probably parroting his favorite sportscaster, “You gotta be in it to win it.” Lexie was definitely in it. Emma? Not so much.

“Earth to Emma!” Holly was suddenly standing next to Emma and waving her hands in front of her face.

“It took you long enough to get here!” Emma exclaimed. “We only have like two seconds before the next bell. Tell me everything that happened at the park yesterday. What did you find out?”

“Well,” Holly began, clearly happy to dish. “Let’s see. Jackson was there, of course. Looking very cute. Not that I thought so exactly, but you probably would. And he talked a lot more than usual. He was actually kind of funny, but you had to be paying attention or you wouldn’t really notice.”

I knew it! Emma thought. “What else?” She desperately wanted more detail so she could begin replacing Fantasy Jackson with Real Jackson.

“He was telling us about how he goes off to some crazy place in New Jersey on the weekends to ride dirt bikes with his cousins.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” Emma said, digesting this new tidbit. Suddenly Real Jackson and Fantasy Jackson melded as she pictured him wearing a black leather motocross jacket with red and white padded stripes on the elbows and shoulders, ripped jeans covered in mud, and heavy black motorcycle boots with silver rings on the ankles.

She could see them hanging out together, her wearing, of course, a matching leather jacket with brass studs, a black lace top, and a white gauzy skirt with lots of stiff crinoline underneath to give it that fun pouf—very rocker chick meets third-grade ballet recital. Emma’s fashion reverie was interrupted by the grating sound of Ivana’s voice.

“And the manicurist at the spa wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Wanda!’ Can you believe it? I’m like, lady, the name’s I-va-na! ” The Ivana-Bees, flanking their leader, shrieked with laughter. Emma didn’t think Ivana’s story sounded that funny, but maybe “you had to be there,” as they said about practically every one of their experiences.

The three ’Bees paused as Ivana reached out to link her elbow with Holly’s. “Holls, you coming with?” Ivana asked.

Emma cringed. Ivana had taken her nickname for Holly. Emma had been calling Holly that since the second grade, when they saw a movie about four best friends who made up nicknames for each other. It had sounded like a very mature and cool thing to do back then.

“Totally!” Holly slammed her locker door shut and slid into formation with the ’Bees. “Ivana, I love-love your sweater. It’s awesome.”

“I know, isn’t it?” Ivana answered.

Emma eyed the sleeveless sweater—an obviously expensive cashmere with a small ruffle along the deep V-neckline. The color was just the right shade of lavender to set off Ivana’s red, perfectly flat-ironed hair. Emma had seen the sweater in the window of Shape, the pricey SoHo boutique near school that provided Ivana with most of her wardrobe. Ivana wore it with the same ivory lacy camisole displayed on the mannequin. There are so many other fun ways she could’ve worn that, Emma thought, layering it in her mind with patterned sweaters and tops.

“Shaye,” Holly continued, “did you do something different with your hair—part it on a different side, maybe? I like it. You should totally wear it that way all the time.”

Shannon, who was the most tomboyish of the group, probably because she was growing taller without getting curvier, reached up to touch her brown chin-length hair with a confused but pleased look on her face. “I don’t think so, but thanks!”

Holly turned to Kayla. “That lip gloss is killer, Kay. New?”

Kayla was like a walking advertisement for Beautylicious, the beauty company her mother had started five years earlier. She bragged about her mother all the time, as if she were the Secretary of State bringing about world peace instead of a makeup artist turned businesswoman.

Unlike Shannon, Kayla had no problem in the natural curves department. Plus she had been wearing a full face of makeup religiously since the age of twelve, which Emma thought made Kayla look, at times, like she was spending too much time with the clowns at the circus.

Now Kayla puffed out her lips so everyone could see. “Yeah, my mom just brought it home yesterday. It’s not even in the stores yet. It’s called ‘Fire Starter.’”

Holly turned back toward Emma. “Hurry up, Emma! We’re going to be late.”

“Trying!” Emma yanked on her bag. The strap was stuck on something inside her locker. By the time she freed it and closed the door, the group was already halfway down the hall.

Emma sighed and walked at a normal pace. She couldn’t bring herself to chase after them. Besides, now that Ivana and the ’Bees had swallowed up Holly, Emma knew that she wouldn’t be able to finish their conversation. Or tell Holly about Allegra Biscotti. I’ll grab her at lunchtime to eat with me in the student lounge, Emma decided. She knew Holly would celebrate with her once she found out the big news.

Emma scooted into the classroom just as Mr. Whitmore was closing the door.

The crescendo from the lunchroom hit Emma long before she even walked in the door. The cafeteria, which was in the basement next to the gym, was the worst room in the school. The ceiling was low, and the cement floor was painted the ugliest green color Emma had ever seen.