F Hall is empty, as usual, but I bend down and fake-tie my shoelace to listen for footsteps. Once I’m satisfied no one is coming, I slip into the janitor’s closet.

Abi is sitting on a footstool playing with a strand of hair she’s dyed turquoise.

“Pretty color.” I try to sound perky, or at least normal. Or at least not like I wish the world would end tomorrow.

“Here’s the thing.” She stands and sticks her finger in my face. “I’ve been trying to quit this stupid job for at least a month now. We’ve had a great run, but as they say, all good things must come to an end. Let’s call it a day, announce the end of Boyfriend Whisperer Enterprises, and move on.”

“Abi, we’ve been through this—”

“Yes, we have. But now you want out, too. Admit it.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, come on. I know a crush when I see one. And Lindsay LaRouche is a total La-Douche. Time to close up shop and throw away her stupid application.”

Part of me is mortified that my crush on Chris has been so obvious, but a bigger part is touched that Abi wants to help. Still, I shake my head. I spent all night and all morning thinking about this, and I’ve made my decision. “I’m going to whisper him. For her.”

“What?” Abi stomps one of her six-inch Espadrille wedges hard on the floor. “Are you insane? It’s not worth it. For a hundred twenty-five dollars?”

“A hundred once I give you your cut,” I remind her. “And yes, it’s worth it. This is a business—my business. And my policy is to accept all reasonable applications. That’s more important than any silly crush.”

Abi shakes her head. “I can’t believe you, Miss Love-Is-But-a-Whisper-Away. Give me a freaking break. I’m not going to let you do this.”

“It’s not up to you. I’m doing it. Whether you’re in or out makes no difference. Conversation over.”

She stares at me in silence for a moment and then shrugs. “Fine. Suit yourself. But you have a lot to learn about love.” She storms out of the closet, slamming the door behind her.

I ease myself onto the step stool, blinking back the tears that have been threatening all day. Abi’s right. This pain isn’t worth $100, or any amount of money, really. But it’s not about money. It’s about Chris.

Over and over last night, I replayed in my mind the way he acted around Lindsay in Virginia Beach. The stammering, the awkwardness. I’ve seen those symptoms in half the guys I’ve whispered. Chris likes Lindsay, plain and simple. He likes Lindsay and not me. He doesn’t even think of me as a girl, for crying out loud. Am I happy about it? No. Is there anything I can do about it? Well, yes. I can set him up. Because it would make him happy. Because he’s my friend, and that’s what friends do.

At least, that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself. I bury my head in my hands and let the tears fall.