She’s right. I do have to go to social studies first.

And I have to get through it with my friends barely even looking in my direction.

By the time I ask Mr. Zubki if I can spend another lunch at the library, I am so anxious to find information, so sure that it is waiting for me right on the tip of the Internet’s tongue, that I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin if I don’t find it right now.

I slide action-movie-star style into the chair in the same computer carrel I used yesterday, shaking the mouse to wake up the computer monitor and then typing as fast as I can: “How to break a Harvest Jinx, Trepan’s Grove.” And then I type it again, more slowly this time, because the first time I actually typed “alksamcwoeaitfhasdlkfd.”

I hold my breath as the results come up. My eyes focus on the bold phrases highlighted in each result, all the way down the page, each a variation of:

There is no way to break a Harvest Jinx.

“No way?” I whisper, clicking to the next page of results and seeing the same thing. “No way!” I go through six pages of results before I finally face the truth.

According to the Internet, there is no way to break a Harvest Jinx.

Mr. Zubki isn’t much more help. Apparently, accosting the librarian and begging to see the history section is not something people do in Trepan’s Grove on any sort of regular basis. He seems a bit taken aback by the fact that he has to peel my white-knuckled fingers off his suspenders.

He keeps his distance and gestures toward the small local history section of our school library, but the books have only passing mention of Trepan’s Grove, and none mentions the jinx.

“Maybe try the town library?” he suggests.

“You’re a genius!” I whisper-yell, my hands reaching for his suspenders. Mr. Zubki takes a step back.

Of course the town library will have information on the jinx! They probably have a book called simply The Jinx that they keep in a glass cabinet with its own spotlight.

You know what they don’t have at the town library? A book called The Jinx kept in a glass cabinet with its own spotlight. They don’t even have a book called The Jinx that they use as a doorstop. They don’t have any books about the jinx at all. Well, that’s not totally true. The librarian, who has no suspenders for me to grab on to, leads me upstairs to what she calls the mezzanine. It’s a kind of balcony looking over the main floor of the library, and it’s where the history books are kept.

It’s also where you can spy on the friends who have forgotten you because you accidentally jinxed yourself.

Celeste and Fee are sitting with their heads close together at one of the giant, dark wood tables on the first floor, and I can tell by the way they are moving in sync that they are sharing a pair of earbuds. I watch as they both lean back, press one hand to their hearts, point to each other with their free hand, and lip-sync what I’m sure is a rap song. I suck in my lips to keep from laughing as I watch them trade whispered rap verses and then silently groove back into the chorus. The song ends and they pop out their earbuds, then pull out the assignment sheet for social studies.

Social studies.

Oh, shoot!

I actually ditched Zooey Dutchman Zervos.

I’d left school through the back exit, wanting to avoid everybody. I wonder if she’s still waiting for me out front. I bet I could walk back up to school and find her. Or … I could just stay here, leaning against the end of a bookcase behind the railing, out of sight of everyone on the first floor. Celeste and Fee are discussing the project now, and both are laughing and getting shushed by the librarian.

I remember maybe a week or so after Celeste got back from skating camp, we were all supposed to meet at the Chin on the common and then walk down to the town pond. This was right before I sprained my ankle. I was sitting on the porch rocker at the Dentist’s House, my feet up on the balcony, rereading Tilde’s Realm #2 and keeping an eye on the common, watching out for when my friends started to show up. Celeste and Fee arrived at the same time, and I stuck my book under the cushion of the rocker, knocked on the window frame, called good-bye to my dad inside the office, and trotted across the street. Fee and Celeste were walking arm in arm toward the Chin, and what I did felt so natural and so right that I didn’t even think about it. Or maybe I did. Maybe I thought, This is what Piper would do! I ran up and sort of nudged between them, linking elbows with them and grinning like Surprise! And Fee laughed and said, “Brooklyn!” but Celeste reeled back, almost dropping my arm. If Piper hadn’t run up to us at that exact moment, I think Celeste would have said something. But she snapped out of it, smiled, and was perfectly friendly. Though she just felt … closed. Yes, closed is the right word.

When Piper plops down in a chair across from Fee and Celeste, I seriously almost cry out. I want to scream, “I’M HERE!” and I want them to call my name again and again until I limp right into their arms.

But I don’t say anything. And neither do they.

I just sit and watch as Fee and Celeste work on their project, and Piper does her own homework. An hour goes by and the sun dips into the high windows across from the balcony, so orange and bright that I have to get up to keep from being blinded. I should be getting to the Dentist’s House anyway. Dad will be expecting me.

Shoot, I say to myself when I get outside and see Fee getting into her mom’s shiny red pickup. She doesn’t notice me, which gives me a chance to hear the first part of her conversation with her mom:

“How did that go?”

“What do you mean? It went fine.”

“Was that Piper there, too?”

I can hear Fee’s sigh all the way up the walkway, where I stand by the front door. “Yeah, but she’s not in our group. She’s not on the project.”

“Well, that’s good,” Mrs. Goody says, in a not entirely nice way. “And what about Teagan and Tess?”

Fee doesn’t say anything.

“Fiona? Have you talked to them at least?”

Fee sighs again. “Not really.”

“Well, I’m going to call their moms. Just to check in.”

What in the world is that all about?