ALICIA LITERALLY didn’t get out of bed the next day. Maribelle brought her some breakfast, which she didn’t eat. At lunchtime, Maribelle brought her a bowl of gazpacho and a Jarritos soda. Alicia ate two spoonfuls of gazpacho and downed the soda.

Convinced that her Lici had developed a nasty summer cold, Maribelle then prepared a big bowl of homemade chicken soup for her dinner, which Alicia did not touch. After Alicia had fallen asleep, however, Maribelle did find several peanut M&M’s wrappers underneath her bed, which gave her the reassurance that, while the girl might have been sick, she was not starving.

Sunday was spent the same way. Alicia slept. Watched TV. She did not return calls from Carmen or Jamie. When her parents offered to call the family doctor, she declined. On Sunday night, she took a shower.

On Monday, which was Labor Day, when Alicia still showed no intentions of ever leaving her bedroom again, her mother called Carmen and Jamie and told them she thought they should come over. School was starting the next day, and, clearly, Alicia’s affliction was social, not physical. Mrs. Cruz called Gaz as well, but he didn’t pick up, so she left a voice mail.

Carmen was the first to arrive, and as soon as she did, Alicia started crying. Once she had started, she couldn’t stop. She had changed out of her own pajamas into a pair of ratty jean shorts and one of her dad’s old Harvard T-shirts that she always wore when she needed comfort or luck. It seemed to her now that she was in dire need of both.

“I told him how I felt, and he blew me off,” Alicia said, her words jumbled through the snot and tears. “He just kept saying, ‘no,’ ‘nope,’ ‘no.’ No explanation. No ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ Nothing. Just mean. And cold.”

Carmen had to admit she was surprised. “That just doesn’t sound like Gaz.”

“I know,” Alicia said, embarking on a new wave of sobbing. She cried on Carmen’s shoulder, then apologized for slobbering all over her dress.

“I have three little sisters,” Carmen said, rubbing her friend’s back. “I’m not afraid of a little slobber.”

Jamie walked in a short while later, dressed in a red and black plaid bubble dress over a pair of black capri pants.

“Is it about Gaz?” Jamie whispered to Carmen, who was still holding a sobbing Alicia.

“He broke it off,” Carmen whispered back.

“What was he thinking?” Jamie asked.

Alicia sat up, her face red and blotchy. “You do know that I’m sad, not deaf.”

Jamie sat down on the other side of Alicia and put her arms around her friend.

“Are you ready for some tough love?” Jamie asked.

Alicia shrugged.

“How long have you been in bed?” Jamie asked.

Carmen held up three fingers, as though Alicia couldn’t see.

“You do know that I’m sad, not blind, right?” Alicia said.

“Three days is enough,” Jamie said. “It sucks, but you’re a strong chica. Moreover, you’re a busy chica. School starts tomorrow. And Carmen’s quince is only weeks away. That tropical synagogue is not going to build itself.”

“What about Gaz playing at your quince?” Alicia asked. “I told him he’s out of the group.”

“We’ll get a DJ,” Carmen said. “I love his music, but you’re my priority. BFFs first, remember?”

The next day, Alicia was unaware of the back-to-school excitement. She pretended not to be looking for Gaz, but in reality she looked for him everywhere. Classes were a blur. A way to pass the time between “Gaz watch.” By Friday, Alicia still hadn’t seen him, and she was beginning to get freaked.

She met Carmen and Jamie in the cafeteria. Alicia was wearing a midnight blue silk jumper. She knew that only her friends had noticed she’d worn black or dark blue every day so far that week. But it made her feel good. She was in mourning. She sat down opposite her friends and slid her tray onto the table.

“What’s that?” Carmen asked, pointing with her yogurt spoon to the pink and white scoop of something on Alicia’s plate.

“Ceviche,” Alicia replied.

“Raw fish, cooked in citrus, from the school lunch line?” Carmen asked, her face registering the grodiness factor at play. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Alicia pushed her tray away. What did it matter? She wasn’t hungry anyway. “I think Gaz has changed schools. I haven’t seen him once since we got back.”

Carmen and Jamie exchanged quick glances, and Alicia caught it.

“What?” she asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“We told him to keep his distance, or else,” Jamie said.

“Or else what?” Alicia asked. The news that Gaz had been there all week long and that he had actually listened to her friends’ threats was depressing.

“The ‘or else’ doesn’t matter,” Jamie said.

“What matters is that he did wrong, he knows it, and he’s no longer welcome,” Carmen said.

Alicia knew that there was nothing she could do. She hadn’t dumped Gaz; it had been the other way around. How had it happened that the flirtationship, which was supposed to protect their friendship, ended up being the very downfall of it? Maybe it was her fault. Maybe Gaz had been the smart one, who knew that they could never have been more than friends who flirted.

“I cannot wait to go to New York,” Simone announced, suddenly materializing next to their table. “That’s right. When I win—and I mean when, not if—I think I’ll use my prize money to go to New York and beat you at your Freestyle game.”

Jamie glared up at the girl. “What are you? Some type of stalker?”

“No,” said Simone. “It just gives me great pleasure to put little people in their place.” She was wearing a gray off-the-shoulder top with a little sailboat print on the front. Her dark hair was ironed straight, and her lipstick was a deep burgundy color. It was a kind of preppy Goth look, and Alicia had to admit that Simone had managed to pull it off.

“Me, too,” squealed Ellen, who was dressed to match Simone in a navy and white nautically inspired top.

Just what Alicia needed for lunch: dodgy ceviche and a hearty helping of haterade.

“The finale of Project Quince is coming up,” Simone said. “Hope you chicas are ready.”

“Yeah,” Ellen said, giggling. “Ready to lose.”

Her threat delivered, Simone marched off. Ellen, of course, fell into step behind her.

“I’m just so happy to be back in school,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes. “Sophomore year. Best year yet. Not.”

“We can’t let Simone get to us,” Jamie said. “Plus, our quince is way cooler than Raya-whatever. Speaking of, how are the Hebrew classes going, Carmen?”

“Good,” Carmen said. “Normally, for a bat mitzvah, you study for years. I just want to learn a few things to impress Abuela Ruben.”

“That’s cool,” Alicia said, perking up a bit. “What have you got?”

They were all surprised when Carmen grew very serious and then, in a sweet voice, began chanting in Hebrew:

Oseh shalom bimromav

Hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu

V’al kol Yisrael

v’imru amen.

“Wow,” Alicia whispered. “What was that?”

Carmen smiled. “It’s a prayer for peace.”

Only half joking, Alicia said, “Can you sing it again for me? I need some peace about the Gaz situation.”

“And me,” Jamie added. “Because there’s a good chance that before Project Quince is over, I’m going to have to kick Simone’s butt.”

“What about Ellen?” Alicia asked, feeling in a lighthearted mood for the first time that week.

“Her, too,” Jamie said.

Carmen began again, “Oseh shalom bimromav . . .” Then she stopped herself. “Wait a sec. Where did they say their quince went to school?”

“Hialeah,” Alicia replied.

Carmen took out her phone and began typing.

“Who are you texting?” Alicia asked. “The quince police?”

Carmen smiled. “Nope. Even better. Domingo. He goes to Hialeah High. It’s a big school, but a Brazilian Japanese girl named Raymunda is bound to stand out. We can get the scoop.”