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“The big deal, Abby, is that you need to be more responsible with your own cell phone. I certainly wouldn’t want you lending the phone that your father and I pay for to anyone else, and I’m sure this Grace’s parents wouldn’t be happy to know that she’s handing her phone out like this. I’ve a good mind to call them and tell them.”

Oh, crud
.

“No, Mom, don’t! I’ll give it back to her on Monday, okay? She’s away all weekend and doesn’t need it. Why are you making such a big deal about this? I leave my phone in my locker one time and you’re acting like I’ve committed this huge crime!”

Mom takes another bite of sesame noodles while I sit there freaking at the thought of her calling Grace’s parents and finding out that I’ve lied.

“Well, make sure you give it back to her first thing Monday. I don’t want you borrowing other people’s phones, or lending them yours. And make sure you remember to bring yours home — those school lockers aren’t safe — and if it gets stolen, the replacement is coming out of your allowance. Is that clear?”

“Crystal. Can I eat now?”

My sister has been busy stuffing her face with sweet and sour chicken the whole time Mom’s been freaking on me. I want to empty the carton of it over her snitchy little head.

“Lily, leave some of that for your father and Abby,” Mom says.

“Do I have to? It’s so good!”

“Yes, you do have to, you selfish brat!”

Mom slams down her knife and fork.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve had a long day at work and I really don’t need to come home to the two of you bickering. I don’t want to hear another word from either of you unless it’s civil.”

We eat the rest of dinner in total silence, except for the sound of Lily’s chewing, which drives me crazy, but I can’t say anything or else Mom will lose it again.

CHAPTER 11
NOVEMBER 19

Over the next month, I spend most of my evenings on the computer with Luke, or talking to him on my secret cell phone. My parents want me to watch a movie with them tonight, but Luke and I have a webcam date so I say no.

I try to ignore the crushed expression on my dad’s face as I turn to walk out of the family room, and the cloak of guilt that wraps itself around me as I walk up the stairs. But I shrug it off as I close and lock the door to my room. I mean, it’s not like Dad’s been around at all lately. And now that he’s finally making an appearance I’m supposed to drop everything just so he can spend some “quality time” with me? Yeah, right. While Dad’s been doing his workaholic thing, coming home only to give me grief if I’m not getting straight A’s, Luke’s the one who’s been there for me every night, listening to my problems. Unlike my parents, he knows — and remembers — what’s going on in my life. So I’m not about to give up my evening with him to watch some lame movie with Mom and Dad. Just not happening.

It’s Sunday night a few weeks later and I’ve got a big math test the next day. I’ve got serious studying to do because I’ve been spending so much time talking or video chatting with Luke that I’ve gotten way behind with schoolwork. Luckily, my parents didn’t find out about the C-minus in science or I would be in deep doo-doo. But I can’t afford to mess up anymore, especially in math, which is supposed to be one of my best subjects.

To avoid any temptation, I keep my laptop closed and on my desk, while I sit on my bed with my math books, studying. I even turn off Luke’s cell, although it’s charging under my bed, where no one can see it. But it’s a struggle to stay focused on geometry. I miss talking to Luke. The evening feels empty without him.

Mom comes in at eleven.

“Honey, lights out now. You’ve been studying for hours and you need to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, getting up to go brush my teeth.

Mom brushes my hair back from my face as I pass her on the way to the bathroom.

“Good night, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

I automatically say, “Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” because it’s this ritual we did when I was little.

It’s so weird. One minute she’s expecting so much of me like I’m a grown-up, and the next minute we’re doing baby nighty-night rituals like I’m five years old again. Whatever.

When I get back to my room I turn on Luke’s cell and there are six text messages from him, asking me where I am and telling me that he loves me and misses me and he’s worried about me. Even though I’m supposed to be going to sleep and I
know I’ve got a big test tomorrow, I can’t stop myself from firing up my laptop to see if Luke’s online. I’m so psyched when I see that he is.

My heart feels like it misses a beat when I read that. Without Luke, there would be this huge, scary void in my life. I think about him all the time, and talking to him is the one thing I look forward to every day. Now that Faith is totally wrapped up in the play and with the most awesomely amazing Ted, I’d have no one if it weren’t for Luke. He’s my love. He’s my best friend. He’s my everything.

It’s a relief to know that Luke thinks about me as much as I think about him. I was almost starting to think that I was getting kind of … I don’t know … obsessed. But if he feels the same way about me, then it must be normal, right? Maybe this is just how people are when they’re in love with each other.

I end up staying up with Luke until three in the morning. And undressing for him in front of the webcam while we whisper to each other on our secret cell phone.

When my alarm goes off at six fifteen a.m., I realize that probably hadn’t been the smartest decision I ever made in my life. My eyelids feel weighted down and my head pounds with one of those killer headaches I get sometimes when I don’t get enough sleep. I drag myself to the bathroom for a shower and look in the mirror. Argh. I am definitely not in optimal math-test-taking form.

Down in the kitchen I put an extra teaspoon of instant coffee in my cup, hoping it’ll give me a boost. It just makes the coffee taste like crap. I have to put in twice as much sugar so I can drink it.

“What’s with you? You look like you need a Black and Decker beauty kit this morning,” Lily says when she comes into the kitchen.

“Yeah, good morning to you, too, Cruella De Asshole.”

Of course, Mom comes in and hears what
I
said, not what Lily said, so
I’m
the one who gets in trouble. Story of my life.

“Abigail Johnston! What on earth has come over you?” she shouts. “How
dare
you use that kind of language in this house! Apologize to your sister
right
now!”

Mom stomps over to the fridge to get out the Coffee-mate. “I really don’t need this first thing in the morning.”

Like I do
?

“Sorry, Lily,” I say with as little sincerity as I can muster.

She sticks her tongue out at me as soon as Mom turns her back to fill her travel coffee mug. For like the nine zillionth time, I wonder how we can possibly be related.

Amanda Armitage looks twice as gorgeous and put together as usual, as if to contrast with my
Close Encounters with a Zombie
look.

“Hey, Ally, are you feeling okay?” Nick asks me when I sit down. “You don’t look so hot.”

Oh, great. Thanks for pointing that out
.

I hear Amanda snickering. I’m tempted to say that I’ve got the bubonic plague and it’s really, really contagious. And then sneeze on them.

But I’m too tired. I just want to get this fricking test over with and this whole day at school over with so I can go home and get into bed and nap. I’m actually thinking of my pillow more than I’m thinking about Luke, that’s how tired I am.

Mr. Evans hands out the test papers and I pinch the inside of my elbow to try and make myself more alert.

For the first fifteen minutes I’m able to concentrate, mostly. But then I feel myself blinking constantly as my eyelids get heavier and heavier, and the numbers start to swim on the page in front of me. I pinch myself again, hard, but it doesn’t seem to do much good.

The next thing I know is that I wake up with a start as my
pencil rolls on the floor. I bend down to pick it up and as I do so I glance up at the clock near the door. What I see scares me wide awake. There are only five minutes left in the period and I’ve still got half the test to finish.

I sit up and pull the paper toward me. I’ve written total gobbledygook for the last answer, and have to do that question again.
Shit, shit, shit
! I’m going to fail this test.

People start going up to hand in their papers, but I’m frantically trying to answer the questions. The worst is, I know this stuff. If I hadn’t fallen asleep for half of the period, I’d have done okay. Nick Peters passes by my desk to hand in his paper. I can’t believe I’m finishing a test after Nick Copies-My-Homework-and-Can’t-Even-Remember-My-Name Peters.

When Mr. Evans calls “time” and tells everyone to put their pencils down, there are five questions I didn’t even get to. I am so royally screwed.

I can’t look Mr. Evans in the eye when I hand him my paper because I know I’ve done so badly. I’ve never gotten below an eighty-nine on anything in this class. This test is going to bring my average
way
down.

There’s no way I can face gym. Basketball. Running up and down the gym with people shouting at me to shoot or pass or to be better at defense. As I head down there, I’m trying to work out my excuse to go to the nurse.

“Hey, Abs! OMG, what’s the matter? You look terrible!” Faith says as she meets me in the hallway on the way to the gym.

Do I go with period pains or headache and possible virus
?

“Yeah, I don’t feel so great,” I say, putting on a feeble
I’m sick
voice. “I’ve got a really bad headache and I feel kind of achy.”

“You should go to the nurse,” Faith says. “You definitely don’t want to be playing basketball. I’ll go ask Ms. Carlucci for a pass.”

I sit down on the bleachers and look pathetic, which isn’t too hard because I feel like total crap and as bad as taking that math test was, I know that the moment I get it back is going to feel even worse.

Ms. Carlucci comes over with Faith.

“You’re not feeling well, Johnston?”

“No. I’ve got a really bad headache and my muscles ache.”

She gives me the eagle eye
Are you sure you’re not faking this
? stare, takes in the shadows under my eyes and the pasty white pallor of my skin, and decides that I’m genuine enough for a pass, which she scribbles off and hands to Faith.

“Wilson, you can take her to the nurse, but I want you to come straight back here.”

“Sure thing, Ms. C. I will.”