I may have gone to bed, but that doesn’t mean I went to sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned for hours. I probably dozed off now and then, but mostly I just lay in bed thinking.

Somewhere between eleven and midnight I thought about the way Jeremy walks with a little swing to his step and his habit of flipping back the hair that hangs down over his eyes.

From midnight until two I thought about how lucky I am to have Jeremy as a friend. I know he would stand by me, no matter what. With most people, it can take a long time to create a friendship that strong. But Jeremy and I seem to have a special bond.

I must have slept for a while between two and three, but then between three and four I thought a lot about the meaning of Jeremy and Stacey’s breakup. Now that they weren’t a couple anymore, everything would be different.

But — different how? That was the question.

From four until five I started to think about what it would be like to see Jeremy at school the next day. What would we say? How would we act?

Once I started to think about that, I gave up on any thought of sleeping. Why? Because I had to figure out what to wear. It’s not that I’m shallow. I know that it’s what’s inside that counts, and that appearances mean nothing. I know that a positive attitude and a friendly spirit are much more meaningful than the way a person dresses.

Still.

Clothes are important to me. Very important. Think of it this way: We all have to wear clothes every day, right? So we might as well let those clothes make a statement. Clothes are one way we have of telling the world who we are.

I am an artist, a person who values creativity. My clothes reflect that. For me, deciding what to wear can be an art form, just like drawing or painting. And deciding what to wear for a special occasion is like creating a painting for a big museum. The stakes are higher, and you have to make an extra effort to do your best.

Monday was a very special occasion. I wanted my outfit to reflect the true and total essence of Claudia. When Jeremy saw me, he would know exactly who I am. It was a lot to ask of a bunch of fabric and thread.

By the time my alarm went off at seven, I had a pretty good idea of what I might wear. I’d come up with an outfit that was attractive yet informal. Relaxed but not grubby. Offbeat but not too weird.

In other words, perfect.

But when I got out of bed to pull together the items I’d need, they didn’t look right after all. I tried on outfit after outfit.

“Claudia, breakfast is ready,” my mom called from downstairs.

“Coming!” I called back, pulling off a dress. It looked too fussy, too much like I was trying. The perfect outfit should look effortless.

“Claudia,” my mom called again a few minutes later. “Your eggs are cold. And you should be leaving in five minutes.”

Five minutes! I panicked. I opened my closet and pulled out armloads of clothing, sorting through it quickly and tossing things into three piles: “yes,” “no,” and “maybe.”

The “no” pile was the biggest. Next was the “maybe” pile. And the “yes” pile? Practically nonexistent.

“What, may I ask, are you doing?”

I looked up from my sorting to see Janine leaning on the doorframe.

“Just trying to figure out what to wear,” I said, feeling exhausted.

“Special day?”

I nodded, surprised that Janine would understand that a special day demands a special outfit. She’s not at all into clothes.

“How about that blouse you made from Mimi’s silk kimono?” she asked. “You look beautiful in that.”

I stared at her. Then I ran to the closet. The blouse was hanging there, clean and pressed. I pulled it on, then headed back to the “yes” pile for a swirly, short black rayon skirt. Janine, still watching, nodded.

“Excellent,” she said.

I checked the mirror. The black chopsticks in my hair complemented the kimono blouse perfectly. I was all set.

Just then, my mom passed my door. “Claudia!” she said. “I thought you’d left already. You’ll never be able to walk to school in time now!”

She glanced into my room and saw the mess I’d made. A little smile crossed her face. “You look nice,” she said. “How about if I give you a ride?”

Fifteen minutes later, my mom dropped me off in front of the main entrance to SMS. I bolted for my locker, hoping that Jeremy hadn’t already passed by. His homeroom is in the same hall as my locker, so I see him nearly every morning.

I put my jacket away, then leaned casually against my locker, waiting. What would I say to him? I practiced a few possibilities in my mind. So, I heard you broke up. How does it feel to be free at last? Looking for a new girlfriend, by any chance?

I decided to be quiet and see what Jeremy had to say. I waited, excited and very, very nervous.

Finally, I spotted him walking down the hall in the middle of a crowd of boys. His hair looked shiny and clean, and he was wearing a red corduroy shirt that went beautifully with his eyes.

He saw me at the same time I saw him.

He smiled.

He gave me a wave.

Then he walked on by.

I felt one of the chopsticks fall out of my bun. And I felt my heart drop to the floor.

That wasn’t what I’d expected.

All the time I had figured that now Jeremy and I would either be:

A) Friends, or

B) More Than Friends.

I hadn’t even considered possibility

C) Less Than Friends.