A pop quiz? No way. How was I supposed to review my lesson on the Electoral College when I had thirty-one prom dresses to try on? Not that I was counting.

Mr. Grawley flashes an evil grin as he passes the test sheets down the aisle. “Pens and pencils down until I say you can start.” I swear he stares straight at me. “Some of you have seemed a bit distracted the past few weeks. We still have more than two months of school left and a lot to cover. This quiz will count for ten percent of your final grade.”

A collective moan from the class reassures me I’m not the only one who doesn’t understand how the electoral system works. Then again, my dad says it doesn’t, so maybe this is some sort of trick lesson.

“Okay, class, you may begin.”

I flip the page and skim the questions. Two multiple choice and three essays. This sucks. I’ll be lucky to get a D. I narrow the first multiple-choice question down to two possible answers, and as I eeny-meeny-miny-mo my way through the two options, a miracle happens. The fire alarm.

Sweet! My classmates and I jump out of our seats and rush toward the door as though flames are licking at our heels. Chris and I bump fists as Mr. Grawley scowls and yells at us to proceed in an orderly fashion. His attempt to sabotage our afternoon has been thwarted, and I can’t help but flash a smile as I walk past him and into the hallway.

As we wind down the nearest staircase, I spot Carmella a few steps ahead of me. “Yo, Mel!” I call to her, and she waits for me. “We just got out of a pop quiz in civics. How about you?”

Carmella shakes her head. “I swear you are the luckiest person on earth. I had study hall, and I really needed it. I have a paper due sixth period that’s only half finished.”

“Ugh. Bummer.” I know I’m supposed to stick with my class when we get outside, but I ditch them and sneak off with Carmella and the kids from her study hall. I’ve been meaning to talk with her to try to figure out whether she’s a threat to reveal my email address, but it’s been tough since we don’t have any classes together. This is my chance.

As we line up in the parking lot, I try to assume a casual tone. “So, how’s your sister doing these days?”

Carmella’s eyebrows shoot up. “How did you know I had a sister?”

“What do you mean? Of course I know.”

She grunts. “Aren’t you full of surprises? I never thought you knew the first thing about me. Or any of us.”

Whoa. Harsh. I avoid her eyes. Just because I don’t get all up in their business doesn’t mean I don’t care about my teammates. They should know better. I’m the consummate team player. I pass the ball whenever they have a better shot. I cheer them on when they make free throws and rebounds. What’s with the hostility?

“Yes. I do know you have a sister. Her name is Krista, she’s on the volleyball team, and she has a killer serve.”

Carmella nods. “She does.”

See? A girl can be aloof without being a total snot. I grin at the memory of Chris saying, “aloof” over and over at Elana’s party.

“What’s so funny?” Carmella eyes me as though I’m losing it.

“Nothing. Sorry.” I pull her aside. “Can I ask you something?” This fire drill isn’t going to last forever. I need to get to the point.

“Sure? What’s up?”

“Um, nothing really. I was just wondering, how is Krista?”

Carmella’s eyes narrow. “She’s fine. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I suppose I’m … curious about her. And her team.”

“Wait. Are you, like, interested?”

“Interested?”

“In my sister? ’Cause she’s not like that.”

“Oh. No! No, no, neither am I. I didn’t mean curious like that. I meant … gosh. That’s embarrassing.” I laugh, but Carmella’s expression darkens. “Not that … you know … if I were, I’m sure I’d be interested in your sister. She’s very pretty.” Gaahh. This conversation is so not going the way I’d hoped.

“Then what? Do you have some sort of problem with her? Are you two fighting or something? Because that’s between you and Krista.”

“No, no. We’re not fighting. We barely know each other. I was merely—”

“Lexi!”

I turn to see Chris running toward me.

“Where’d you go?”

“I’m right here.”

“Everyone’s looking for you. Grawley’s pissed. Says he’s giving you a week’s detention.”

Wonderful. I turn back toward Carmella. “Never mind. I was just asking because I care about you and your sister. And all my teammates.”

Chris grabs my arm and pulls me toward our class line. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. Thankfully.” Carmella could not have seemed more genuinely clueless. No way has her sister asked for my email address. Assuming Krista and the volleyball team were my biggest threat, Boyfriend Whisperer Enterprises has nothing to fear. I take a deep breath, but my feeling of relief is short-lived. Mr. Grawley has spotted me through the crowd, and his Machiavellian grin is back.

“Miss Malloy. Well, well. What have you been up to?”

“She was searching for us,” Chris answers before I can say a word. “She got separated from us on the staircase. She had no idea where we went.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Grawley looks Chris up and down. It’s clear he doubts someone could lose sight of his six-foot-three frame, even in a large crowd.

“Oh, yes, I was frantic,” I say. “Total panic mode.”

I slip into line before Mr. Grawley can question me any further, and Chris steps in behind me. “Don’t ever do that again,” he mutters.

“What? I needed to talk to Carmella.”

“Lexi, I’m serious.” His expression holds the same mixture of alarm and relief as it did that day in Virginia Beach after I finally let him know I was okay. He places his hand on my arm, softly, lightly, sending a thrill through me, straight to my core. “One minute you were right next to me, the next you were gone. I had no idea where you went. What if something happened to you?”

“Like what?” I sigh at the concern in his eyes and soften my tone. “It’s a drill, not a real fire. Of course I’d be more careful during a fire.”

“How did you know it was a drill? It could have been real.”

“Did you see any flames? Or smoke? At no time were we in danger.”

“It’s a big school.”

“So you think I would have run toward the part of the building that was burning if there was a fire? Come on, Chris. Give me some credit.”

He pulls me into his chest in a hug that’s an awkward mix of tender embrace and friendly bro hug. “I was worried about you; that’s all.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” I close my eyes and breathe him in. His t-shirt smells like a mix of soap and cedar. “I promise not to disappear on you again.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”