13 
13 HEATHER HAD REGAINED HER COMPOSURE by the time we walked through the door of her apartment. She looked as if nothing had happened a mere half hour ago. But I knew she couldn’t be over it so fast. Heather had just put up the I-don’t-care-and-I’m-fine wall.
Without being asked, I followed her into her room. I sat cross-legged on her bed and watched as she flicked on the TV and flipped through channels.
“Exploring the city was really fun,” I said, unsure how she’d respond. “Thanks for showing me around.”
Heather nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. Cool.”
She stopped on one of my favorite channels, and it was a rerun of City Girls—a show Paige and I had bonded over during my first day at Canterwood.
Heather sat in one of her chairs and drew up her legs as she watched the show. We watched the show for about fifteen minutes before I decided I had to distract her with something.
“I saw on the cover of US Weekly that Mira is dating Josh now,” I said. Mira was one of the City Girls, who hadn’t really had a boyfriend before.
Heather looked at me. “I saw that too. The article said she’d been crushing on him forever and she decided not to wait. She just went for it and asked him out.”
“Hmm . . .” I said, smiling. “Sounds like she made the right choice—just going for it.”
“Definitely,” Heather said. “If she had a feeling that he liked her, why wait for him to ask her?”
“Does this sound like anyone we know . . . ?” I tilted my head suggestively.
Heather stared at me. “No . . . what are you talking about?”
I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s this girl I know who has a crush on a guy. She thinks he likes her too, but he hasn’t made a move yet. She talked to him at the Homecoming dance, but didn’t pull a Mira.”
Heather’s mouth fell open in a clichéd teen-movie way. “Omigod! Are you kidding me?”
“No!” I said. “You should ask Troy out! Then you won’t have to wonder if he likes you or not. You’ll ask and he’ll say yes or no, but I know he’ll so say yes.”
Heather shook her head, her blond hair flying. “No way! I’m not asking him out. I like him, but if he wants to go, he has to ask me. Otherwise, forget it.”
My eyes landed on Heather’s laptop. It was in sleep mode, the orange light blinking.
“You could e-mail him and say hi. See how break’s going . . .” I said. “Or you could text him.”
“And say what?” Heather unfolded her legs and sat up straighter. The glazed-over look was gone from her face. She was definitely distracted from the Father Fail that had occurred earlier.
“Just ‘hi.’ Ask him what he’s doing. If he’s bored at home, or if he’s glad to be away from campus. Something casual.”
Heather looked at her BlackBerry on her desk. She tucked her hair behind her ear, still looking at the phone.
“It’d be lame if I just texted him out of nowhere,” Heather said. “I need a reason.”
I paused, thinking. “Okay. Um . . . are you guys in any classes together?”
“Did your teacher assign homework over the break?” I asked.
“Yeah, we have to read fifty pages of The Outsiders and write a five-page paper on it.”
“Did you start yet?” I asked. “I haven’t even looked at my homework.”
“Please,” Heather said. “Do you think I’ve done any homework yet?”
“That’s your question. Tell him you haven’t started yet and ask if he has. If he has, then you can ask him if the homework’s hard or something. If he hasn’t, then you guys can chat about not doing homework.”
Heather nodded, thinking. “You know, I’m shocked right now, Silver.”
“Why?”
“Because you had a good idea for once. I’m shocked. You might be smarter than you look.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled. “I think you’ve said that before. Are you going to text him or e-mail him?”
I jumped off the bed and walked over to Heather’s laptop, my hand ready to open it.
“Fiiine!” Heather said. “I’ll text him. It’s not like I’m afraid to or anything. Whatever. It’s just Troy.”
I left her laptop and picked her up phone, handing it to her. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a while before she finally started typing. I sat across from her in the other chair, just waiting to see what she’d write. And I crossed my fingers that Troy would text her back.
“Here, this is what I’m sending?” Heather said. Her statement sounded more like a question. I looked at the screen that she held up to me.
Hey Troy—R u having a good break? Did u start English hmwk yet? I totally didn’t—it’s so lame. —H
“Perfect,” I said. “That’s supercasual and you’re asking him questions instead of just saying hi and telling him all about your break. He’s totally going to write you back.”
Heather didn’t look convinced. “You think?”
“Definitely. Send it.”
Heather stared back at the phone, the send key option highlighted. “You do it.”
She shoved the phone toward me. I stopped myself from laughing. Tough-girl Heather Fox, who acted as if she owned every inch of Canterwood, was insecure about something.
B-O-Y-S.
“No way,” I said. “You wrote it. It’s for Troy. You send it.”
Heather held the phone in the air for a few more seconds before taking it back in front of her. She took a breath and pressed the button.
“There,” she said. “Omigod, I can’t take it back now. I texted Troy.”
Heather tossed the BlackBerry onto her bed as if she couldn’t stand holding it for another second.
We looked at each other, then burst into giggles.
“You texted Troy!” I said.
Heather kicked at my chair. “Shut up!” But she couldn’t stop laughing. “He probably won’t even—”
A chime from her bed cut her off. A red light started blinking on her phone and we both stared at each other.
“It’s got to be, like, Julia or Alison,” Heather said, shaking her head. “There’s no way he’d write me back that fast.”
“Go check it! It’s so Troy.” I motioned for her to get up and gestured toward the phone with a sweep of my arm.
Almost as if she was unsteady on her feet, Heather got out of her chair and picked up the phone off her bed. She pushed a couple of buttons and read. Her face gave away nothing.
“Well?!” I asked. “Say something! Who is it?”
Heather walked over, still with a poker face, and sat down. She held the phone up and grinned.
“It’s Troy!” she said.
“Omigod! Told you!” I leaned forward and read his message.
Hey H! Having an awesome break. U? And no way did I start hmrk. It’s BREAK. But when we start, if we get stuck or something, we could txt each other or IM. —Troy
Heather and I both started laughing again at the same time and she clutched her phone. I smiled secretly to myself, glad to have distracted Heather with something and curious to see what would happen with Troy.