Sarah Stevenson - Underneath (Sarah Jamila Stevenson)

I stiffen, feeling a reflexive stab of jealousy. Then I push the feeling away. I have nothing to feel jealous about. I shouldn’t want Cody. And I don’t .

I really don’t.

Then I wonder: what if Mikaela, drunk, decided to do something stupid? Would she sleep with Cody, even knowing all the things he’s done? Does she even care about the fact that he’s an asshole? I’m furious with her, but I can’t just let things lie, even if she was in on the whole blog debacle. When I get home, despite the lurch in my stomach, I pull out my cell phone and dial her number.

I’m not sure why I care so much, but like my mom says, sometimes you just have to give people a chance to talk.

It rings four times, but nobody picks up.

I try again an hour later, and I try her house, too, but there’s still no answer. I leave a message on her cell telling her to call me, but she doesn’t. It could be that she’s not feeling well, but she doesn’t even answer my text message.

I don’t know if something else happened, something bad. I don’t know if she’s angry at me or not.

I don’t even know if we’re still friends.

The next day I’m still on edge. All I can think about is whe-ther Mikaela is going to be at school; whether Cody’s going to be there; whether I can bear to face them without completely blowing up; whether they’re both going to hate me now. During French class, Marc from the Zombie Squad gives me a sneer. It’s probably because of that stupid blog, but I honestly don’t care what he thinks anymore.

At lunch, I buy a slice of pizza from the cart. As I’m waiting in line, I glance at the table where I used to sit with Cassie and everyone. It seems like a long time ago now. They’re all eating, laughing together. I see Elisa put her arm around James, see him kiss her on the cheek. I’m glad she’s okay now; glad both of them are happy.

Mikaela, though—I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to her, even though I’ve been worried about her. Deep down, I’m terrified that our friendship is done. That maybe it was always all about Cody for her; not so much about me. I decide I need some alone time before I brave that conversation, so I go straight to my car instead of chancing the picnic table. I’m so lost in thought as I slink past the volleyball courts that I don’t see Spike until he’s jumped right in front of me.

“Dude! Space girl. I waved at you, like, twenty-eight times.” His hair is standing up in little tufts and he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt. “You gotta lay off the crack pipe.”

Despite what happened between us on the beach, when I see Spike the tension inside me relaxes a little. “You’ve been playing volleyball a lot lately,” I say.

He grins goofily. “Sometimes I get tired of the Bitchy Bunch.”

I snort a laugh. I can’t help it. “I call them the Zombie Squad,” I admit.

“Nice.” Spike glances at my pizza slice. “Where you headed?”

“I was going out to my car to get something.” I duck my head.

“I’ll go with you,” Spike says. He jogs over to where the guys are hanging out under the net, taking a break, and talks to them for a second. I consider just leaving. I’m not sure I want company. But by the time the thought runs through my head, he’s back and we’re walking toward my car.

It still gives me a little twinge to hang out with Spike. I’m still not sure how I feel about him. And I don’t know if I want to change things between us.

I open the trunk of the station wagon and we hop up to sit partway in, our legs dangling down over the bumper. Spike leans back on his elbows while I nibble at my rapidly congealing pizza.

“For the record,” Spike says suddenly, “I know you didn’t have anything to do with that blog. Cassie keeps saying you must have been spreading dirt around, but she’s just looking for someone to blame.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Cassie,” I say, a little glumly.

“Anyway, we all know the very idea of you blogging is ridiculous.”

“Oh really ?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Dude,” he says. “Come on. You writing a blog? You barely go online. You don’t even answer email. Even when you’re not mad at people.” He flicks me on the arm. “Plus, I know you’re not the vengeful type.”

“I’m not mad at you. I just—things have been weird lately. At home.”

“Why, did your parents kick it up a notch? What is it now? Hot yoga? Bollywood music videos in your living room?”

I almost laugh.

“No. Not that.” I swallow hard. “I think my aunt is going to divorce my uncle.”

“Your aunt Mina? Isn’t that a good thing? It sounded like your uncle was kind of a … um, douchebag,” he says apologetically.

“Well, yeah. For a while I was afraid she was going to go back to him. But now that it seems like she’s ready to leave him for good, I’m just … ” My eyes sting for a moment and I hold my breath until I’m calm again. “It’s weird, that’s all. She’s living with us right now. My uncle’s not taking it well. Things are really tense.”

Spike reaches a hand up as if he’s going to touch my shoulder, then pulls back. I feel a little hurt, but it’s my own fault. I try to smile reassuringly at him.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s just been kind of crazy. I—”

“I thought I’d find you here in your hidey-hole.”

I whip my head around. Mikaela is standing in front of me, smiling slightly, one hand on her hip and one booted foot tapping.

Several different emotions start warring inside me: outrage, relief, anxiety. I put down my pizza, trying to look casual.

“I didn’t know you were here today,” I say neutrally.

“Yeah, well, I’m here on the good graces of Madam Ibuprofen,” she says. “And I’m not going anywhere near the lunch line.”

“Yeah? Must have been a wild night. All forty-eight hours of it,” I can’t resist saying.

“Yeah, ha ha. Look, no offense,” Mikaela says, turning toward Spike, “but we need a girly moment here.”

“Don’t listen to her. She orders everyone around all the time.” I don’t want Spike to leave. I’m not ready for this conversation.

“It’s fine.” Spike swings himself off the trunk, grinning at both of us. “I should get back to my game anyway. But I get it. I’m too much man for you all, I know. Say no more.” He rubs a hand back and forth over his hair until it stands on end, then saunters back toward the volleyball courts. I watch him walk off, feeling helpless.

“For Christ’s sake,” Mikaela mutters, leaning on the back bumper of the Volvo and picking at a hole in her purple tights. “He’s so … sweaty .”

I don’t answer. I know she didn’t come here to talk about Spike.

“Sunny—” Mikaela looks up at the sky, then down at her tights again. “Look. Sorry I didn’t call you back. Everything went a little nuts.”

“I’ll say.” I look at her as steadily as I can. “When you didn’t answer your phone last night, I figured you were irrevocably pissed at me, but you know what? I was pissed, too. You and Cody ganged up on me again , Mikaela.” My voice rises a little. “What was I supposed to think?”

I don’t even bother to tell her how worried I was, how afraid I was that she might have done something stupid with Cody, because right now, it’s all I can do to keep my anger from overwhelming me.

“I didn’t —” Mikaela lets out a frustrated noise. “Okay. I’ll tell you the whole story. But you have to know I had nothing to do with that stupid blog! Couldn’t your underhearing tell you that much?” She looks at me briefly. There are tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, but they don’t spill.