There was a pause, during which, no doubt, Tommy’s grandmother thought about the way I had left her grandson out to dry after he’d done the right thing and stepped forward about what he knew concerning the Quahogs.

Then Mrs. Sullivan said, “Oh, Katie! Hello! How are you? I saw that lovely picture you took of Mrs. Hinkley at her great-granddaughter’s christening last spring. You are so talented!”

“Um,” I said. “Thanks, Mrs. Sullivan. I’m looking for Tommy. Is he there?”

“Oh, no, dear,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “I’m afraid he’s out and about.”

“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. I told myself I was relieved. “Okay. Well, do you happen to have his cell number? He has a cell, right?”

“Oh, yes, he does,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “And he gave me the number…let me see. I know it’s here somewhere.”

I listened to Mrs. Sullivan rustle papers around, and then go, “Bud? Bud, do you know where I put the number to Tommy’s cellular phone?”

Then Tommy’s grandfather could be heard in the background going, “I told you to pin it up onto the bulletin board. Why don’t you ever pin things up to the bulletin board? That’s why I hung it there.”

I looked at the kitchen clock. If I didn’t leave for work NOW, I’d be late and Peggy would dock my pay.

“Um, Mrs. Sullivan?” I called into the phone. “Mrs. Sullivan, it’s okay.”

Mrs. Sullivan, after some more rustling, came back to the phone. “Oh, Katie, dear. I can’t seem to find the number.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Sullivan,” I said quickly. “If you could just tell Tommy I called, I’d really appreciate it. All right?”

“All right, dear,” Mrs. Sullivan said, still sounding distracted. “Wherecould I have put that number?”

I hung up because I had to jet. I nearly got run over, like, ten times along Post Road, I disobeyed so many traffic laws trying to get to work on time. I made it, but with only five minutes to spare.

I was locking my bike up when someone slipped his hands around my waist and whispered, “Hey there, cutie,” in my hair.

Is it any wonder I whipped around and slapped his hands away? I mean, I was feeling very tense. And I hadn’t been having the best day.

“Hey,” Eric said in an offended tone, looking hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I exploded. “What’s wrong?You’re what’s wrong, that’s what. Why did you have to tell Seth and those guys that Tommy Sullivan is back in town?”

Eric blinked a few times behind the dark lenses of his Armanis. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” I glared at him. The sun was really bright…and hot. I was still panting from my bike ride, and a little sweaty. Which I guess would be one of the advantages of having a car. You wouldn’t need to worry about arriving places with pit stains. Still, I stood with my hands on my hips anyway. Because I didn’t care if Eric Fluteley saw my pit stains. Not anymore. “Exactly what I said. You were totally trying to stir up trouble.”

“I was not!” Eric cried.

“Oh, you so were,” I said. “What I want to know is why? What did Tommy Sullivan ever do to you, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Eric said, looking defensive. “God, what is wrong with you today?”

I stood there, squinting at him in the strong sunlight. Whatwas wrong with me today? I didn’t even know. Except for the part about me being nuts.

But then again, I’m pretty sure I’vealways been nuts. It’s just that this whole thing with Tommy Sullivan finally pushed me to actually admit it to myself.

What was I doing? What was I doing with this guy in front of me who, yeah, okay, was hot and a talented actor and all.

But was it Eric Fluteley I liked? Or the guys he played on stage? I mean, when I kiss Eric, am I kissing Eric…or Bender? Or Jud?

And standing there in the hot sun, listening to the seagulls fight over a stray french fry on the boardwalk, I suddenly knew. It was Jud. Poor, lonely, lovestruck Jud. And Bender, who spilled paint on the garage floor. Not Eric Fluteley, with his headshots and his daddy’s BMW.

And the realization made me feel a little sick to my stomach.

“You know what, Eric?” I heard myself saying to him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Eric continued to blink behind his dark sunglasses. “Can’t do what anymore?”

“This,” I said, pointing to him and then to myself. “Whateverthis is. It’s wrong. And I’m not doing it anymore.”

Eric’s jaw dropped. “Wait…are youbreaking up with me?”

“Well,” I said. “No. Since I technically never went out with you. But I’m not going to make out with you anymore.”

Eric whipped off his sunglasses and said, “Katie. You’re just dehydrated. I can see that you’re sweating. Go inside, have a nice cool drink, and I’ll meet you back out here during your break. Okay?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. Miraculously, I didn’t feel sick anymore. I actually felt kind of good. In fact, I felt like laughing. A little. “No, Eric, don’t bother. I won’t come out. It’s over. I mean it. I really like you — but just as a friend. Okay?”

Eric’s expression was incredulous. His ocean-blue eyes were filled with confusion.

“Wait,” he said. “Is this because I never took you to dinner, or something? Becauseyou were the one who wouldn’t go out withme, remember? You kept saying you were afraid people would see us together, and Seth would find out—”

“No,” I said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that, Eric. I just can’t do this anymore. It’s too complicated. And it’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eric insisted, grabbing for my waist again. But I sidestepped him.

“Ido,” I said. I knew I needed to turn this around so it was about him and not me, because the only person Eric really cares about is himself, and so that’s the only person who actually interests him. So I said, “You need areal girlfriend, one who can devote herself just to you.” The way I should have been devoting myself just to Seth. “What about Morgan Castle? She really seems to like you. You two have so much in common, with the performance thing. And you guys look really good together.”

That seemed to bring Eric up short. He stopped trying to grab and kiss me — knowing as well as I did, no doubt, that the minute the kissing started, I’d be putty in his hands — and went, “Really? Do you think so?”

Ha. I knew it would work.

“Totally,” I said. “Only, you know. You have to treat her right. Because she’s a ballerina, and all. And they’re really sensitive. Kind of like actors.”

He seemed to like this. Well, being an actor, and all, he would. Like all actors, he was convinced he was something really special, and not just a guy who stands around saying a bunch of stuff someone else wrote, who has no original thoughts of his own.

Oops. Or maybe he does. Because a second later, he threw me a suspicious look, and went, “Wait a minute. What’s this really about, anyway, Katie? Does this have something to do with Tommy Sullivan?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Tommy? No. Why would it have something to do with Tommy?” Did Eric know something I didn’t know? Like what Tommy was up to?

“I don’t know,” Eric said, still eyeing me suspiciously. “Because it seems like everything was going along fine between us until he came back to town.”

I wanted to burst out laughing. And not in a happy way, either. In a hysterical way. Because what Eric just said had to be the understatement of the year…that everything had seemed to be going along fine until Tommy Sullivan came back to town. Had truer words ever been spoken?

“This has nothing to do with Tommy,” I said.

Except that, as usual, I was lying.

But then, I lie all the time anyway. What difference did one more make?

“Well,” Eric said, looking uncertain. No girl had ever broken up with him before in his life. Obviously, he wasn’t sure how to act.

Fortunately for me, he chose to be magnanimous about it. I hadn’t been too worried he’d go the vindictive route and blab everything about the two of us to Seth. Because Eric values his looks too much and wouldn’t want to be the recipient of a blanket party himself.

“If you’re sure,” he said to me.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sure, all right. ’Bye, Eric. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” He put his sunglasses back on. “I’ll see you at the Quahog Princess pageant. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I said with a nod. “Right. And, um. Thanks.”

It seemed kind of lame to thank a guy for spending so much time kissing behind a restaurant. But what else was I supposed to say? Quahog Princesses are, above all else, polite.

And Eric didn’t seem to mind. He smiled and waved good-bye. Then he sauntered back toward his dad’s BMW.

And I dashed inside the Gull ’n Gulp, punching in with only thirty seconds to spare.

“Cutting it close enough, Ellison?” Peggy wanted to know, when she saw me.

“Sorry,” I said. “Quahog Princess rehearsal ran a little late.” It’s amazing how smoothly lies trip off the tongue once you get used to telling them all the time.

“Right,” Peggy said sarcastically. “Put your hair up and get out there.”

I scooped my hair into a ponytail and went out into the dining room — where I was greeted by the dozen or so wait staff, line cooks, busboys, and Jill, the hostess, holding a cake shaped like a quahog that hadGOOD LUCK TO OUR OWN QUAHOG PRINCESS written on it in yellow frosting.

They all — including Peggy, who’d come in behind me — yelled, “SURPRISE!” at the same time.

I was surprised, all right. Especially after the way Peggy had yelled at me. Which she later laughingly confided was just to throw me off the scent of what they’d been planning.