I looked up at him, surprised. "So the money you make here is going to your parents? Wait, sorry, that isn't my business, I guess."

"You're fine," he said, reaching down a hand. I took it reluctantly, and he pulled me to my feet. "But yeah, it will go to them. They'll hate taking it from me, but it's the least I can do to help. I don't make much here — well, I guess you know that — but I plan to cash the checks and sneak the money into Mom's purse every two weeks. She'll find out I'm doing it, but money's tight, so she can't really afford to fight me."

"God, Cash, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay," he assured me. "We all have tough times once in a while, right?"

"Yeah. You're right."

I couldn't help but think of Logan. He'd given up going to grad school to come home and help take care of Dad and me after Mom died. And Cash was doing the same thing — giving up his

time, his practice, to help out his family when they hadn't even asked him to.

Suddenly I realized that my hand was still in his from when he'd pulled me to my feet a few seconds before. I jerked my arm away and stumbled backward, accidentally ramming my hip bone against the nearly empty cart of books. "Ouch! Damn it." I rubbed my hip, hoping it wouldn't bruise.

"You okay there?" Cash was staring at me, looking a little amused, with one eyebrow raised like he was about to laugh at me.

"I'm fine."

"Careful," he teased. "Those carts… They can be dangerous."

"Ha, ha," I mumbled. "All right. We should get back to work; we're moving too slowly, and there will be other things to shelve soon."

"Okay, Jenna Junior."

I buried my face in my hands. God, he was so right. I sounded just like her. "Ugh, sorry."

"Don't be," he said, reaching around me to grab a John Grisham book off the cart. "To be honest, Lissa, there is no one I'd rather shelve with."

Right, I thought. That's some consolation there. He liked me enough to work with me but not enough to give me a real chance. Not enough to call me back.

We worked in silence as we put away the remaining sixteen — yes, I counted — books. No matter what I told myself, I knew I couldn't hate Cash, especially now that I knew his reason for working here. The fact was, he was a good guy.

A good guy who just… didn't want me the way I'd wanted him.

Even though I loved Randy and didn't want to be with Cash anymore, I knew it would be a while before I completely got over his rejection. It was out of my control.

Chapter ten

"Pass the popcorn over here, Chloe."

"Keep your panties on. Let me get a handful first."

"Is there any more Diet Coke?"

"Here you go…. Don't you dare spill it on my rug, or my mother will kill me!"

Sixteen girls squeezed into Susan's bedroom on Friday night after the Hamilton Panthers lost to the Oak Hill Tigers (I said my boyfriend was a quarterback, not that he was a good one). Sixteen girls in one bedroom — and believe it or not, that wasn't even everyone who'd taken the oath. Ellen reported that she'd gotten all of the soccer players' girlfriends to join the cause. But, as to be expected, a few girls couldn't make the sleepover for various reasons.

But sixteen of us showed up, and that was more than enough to have me on edge. I found myself on the floor, in the corner of Susan's room, with my knees pulled up to my chest, counting and recounting the girls, the tiles in the ceiling, the Lakers posters on Susan's wall — anything just to relax a bit. But with everyone talking over one another and tossing pillows and carelessly passing around overflowing bowls of food, relaxation seemed pretty far out of the realm of possibility.

I knew that the strike was my idea and that meant I should be the leader here, but I couldn't shake the thought that I would have had a much better time on a nice, quiet date with Randy.

"Hey, listen up!" Chloe shouted over the chatter. Everyone fell silent and turned to look where she was standing, right in the middle of the room. She was dressed in her skimpy pink pajamas, with her curly brown hair pulled up in an alligator clip. "All right," she said. "So Lissa asked us all here so we could have a little fun and share stories about our scheming and shit, and eat brownies and… and what the fuck? Why am I doing this? Lissa, get your ass up here. You're the one running the show."

She reached over to me, her reassuring smile like a secret between us as she pulled me to my feet. Then she dragged me into the center of the room.

"Take it away, babe," she said, plopping down on the floor and grabbing her fifth brownie from the Tupperware box I'd brought from home.

The girls instantly began forming a circle around me, like first graders during story time. A few sat on Susan's bed. Others were lying on their stomachs or sitting cross-legged on the carpet at my feet, looking up at me expectantly.

"Okay," I said, tapping my fingers against my leg. I could do this. Now that the girls were still and quiet and attentive, I could handle it. "So Susan thought it would be interesting to share our

stories about what has happened so far in our efforts to end the rivalry. Does anyone have a good story?"

"I do," Kelsey said, raising her hand.

"Bet you ten bucks it's boring as fuck," Chloe whispered, much too loudly, to Susan.

Kelsey shot her a death glare before turning back to me. I gestured for her to continue.

"So Terry came over Saturday night unexpectedly. I'd mentioned that my parents weren't going to be home, but I hadn't, like, invited him or anything. So he just shows up out of nowhere with this big goofy grin on his face and a bottle of wine he'd convinced his brother to buy him. He totally thought my saying my parents were out of town was a cue that he was going to get some. Which, duh, is stupid anyway." She shook her head. "Whatever. When I told him no, he looked like a hurt puppy. He just kept asking if I was mad at him. I told him no, but he didn't believe me. So you know what he did next?"

I looked at Chloe, silently begging her not to say anything.

She stayed quiet.

"He totally made me dinner. Like, he went into my kitchen and cooked me a fucking meal. Since when can he cook? But anyway. Yeah. He was so sure I was pissed that he would do anything to suck up. It was so cute… and lame. Mostly cute."

"So, in other words, Kelsey has a girlfriend now," Susan joked.

A few girls laughed. Others called out things like, "Lucky! Seth never cooks for me!" Even Chloe smiled and shook her head. I wondered if, like me, she was imagining Terry — a stout,

muscular boy with a constant five o'clock shadow — wearing a pink apron and bustling around a kitchen.

"Wow, Kelsey," Chloe said, grinning at her. "Your boyfriend becomes a housewife and Lissa's turns into a canine. Interesting transformations for the first week."

Suddenly everyone was looking at me again, expecting an explanation. I felt the heat creeping up my neck. I hadn't intended to share my experience. I preferred to keep my private life private, except when I decided to share with Chloe.

"Tell them," she said. "Come on. It's hilarious."

Traitor.

"Randy, um, begged like a dog. Literally."

The girls laughed, and Chloe nudged my leg, urging me on. I sighed.

"He rolled over onto his back, showed me his belly, gave me doe eyes. He made puppy noises and everything."

"Gives ‘doggie style' a whole new meaning, huh?" Chloe said, and everyone busted out laughing again.

Even I cracked a smile.

"I doubted you before, Lissa," Kelsey said, her usual sneer contorted into a — holy crap, sincere? — smile. "But now, I think you're right. I bet it'll work, and thank God, because this fight needs to stop. This was a good idea, Lissa. Seriously."

Coming from Kelsey, that was huge.

And she wasn't the only one with a story to share. I watched as several of the girls stood and told their stories. All of them smiling at me when they reached the end. All of them laughing and proud and confident. All of them really believing that my

plan was going to be the one to end the rivalry. Their confidence made me confident.

"I wish I had a story to tell," Mary murmured to me as we filled up another bowl of popcorn in Susan's kitchen. Since she and I had eaten the last pieces, the other girls decided it was only fair that we make the next bag. I was more relaxed away from the crowd, and the air in the kitchen felt much cooler than it had in Susan's packed bedroom.

"Don't worry about it," I told her, shaking the hot bag of popped kernels into the orange bowl we'd been using. "Having stories isn't what really matters."

"I know. And I haven't kissed Finn since we started the strike, like you told me. But it's just…" Mary trailed off, twisting the fingers of her left hand in her chocolate-colored hair. In her right she gripped the can of Diet Coke Susan's mom had forced on her, knowing Mary would never ask for it.

"Just what?" I asked, picking up my own Diet Coke and taking a sip.

"Am I weird?" she whispered as she glanced over her shoulder toward the living room, where Mrs. Port was watching a Lifetime movie. "I mean… is it weird that Finn and I have never…?"

"No," I said, then hesitated. "I mean, I'm sure you're not the only one. I don't think you're weird."

Mary shrugged, still twisting her hair. "I just hear all these stories, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who's never done it. I feel like I'm behind or something. Like it makes me a prude."