AFTER DINNER I WENT to my room to read To Kill a Mockingbird. Only I couldn’t concentrate. So I went online instead, this time checking out all the photos Jared had posted on Instagram. I think he has a lot of money because he always seems to be posed beside a pool or in a sailboat or in front of the pyramids.

Then I tried again to read—I really did. But my mind kept drifting. I imagined we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We would be one of those couples, the kind that would make other people stop and stare because we’d look so fabulous together.

But then I suddenly realized I’d missed an important step. I hadn’t passed on a message to Jared in return. So I hurried out of my room, knocked on Stewart’s door, and opened it.

“Stewart—”

I froze. Stewart was sitting on his bed, a hideous brown-and-orange knitted blanket draped over him like a tent.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” he cried.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s personal!”

Oh, gross!!! I backed out of his room, yanking the door shut behind me. “Just—tell Jared I said hi back!” I shouted.

Under my breath I added, “Pervert!”