Free XGeneration 1: You Don't Know Me by Brad Magnarella Page A

all advanced placement courses. During registration, the guidance counselors had advised freshmen to take no more than one AP course their first year, two tops. Five was considered loony tunes.
    But it wasn’t as if she had a choice. Going all the way back to elementary school, her father made sure she was in the highest level of every subject—Margaret, too. He had the teachers give them extra work when he thought they were finishing their homework too quickly (Janis learned to slow way down); signed them up for intelligence camps each summer; and starting in the sixth grade, he enrolled them in an after-school program at the Center for Foreign Language Study until both could speak German and Russian reasonably well. “They’re diplomatic languages,” he explained whenever Janis would complain about having to go—as though their being diplomatic languages were reason enough. Her father would ignore her grumbles that none of her other friends had to learn even one “diplomatic language,” much less two.
    Janis was surprised to spot one of those former friends in the English classroom. Amy Pavoni. She stood near the bookcase in a tight circle with two other girls, flipping her bouffant of hair from side to side. In matching blue prep-school outfits and berets, the three were all but declaring their little clique closed for the day, if not the school year. It was just as well. Janis couldn’t stand them. Beside Amy was Autumn, a long, lean clothing model, and Alicia, an aspiring actress with Phoebe Cates eyes. All three had hair the color of dark chocolate. The “A-Mazings,” they had started calling themselves in middle school. Janis could think of a name far more fitting that also began with an A and a hyphen.
    Janis gave a small wave when Amy glanced over, regretting it even as it was happening. Amy’s response was to look her up and down and then decide she wasn’t there. She pressed closer to her group and whispered something. A second later, Alicia and Autumn turned and made similar assessments, Alicia rolling her eyes.
    Janis lived one neighborhood over from Amy, and the two of them had been best friends throughout elementary school. They had even held a joint birthday party at the Skating Palace in fourth grade. But in sixth grade, Amy joined the Teen Board at the mall while Janis channeled her after-school energies into softball and soccer. They were still friendly, still stopped and spoke in the halls from time to time—until Amy fell in with the other two. Not long after, Janis found a note in her locker:
    Softball is for lesbians.
    It wasn’t signed, but it was Amy’s handwriting (never mind that she’d played softball herself once). Amy wouldn’t acknowledge her anymore, not even with a nod of her head.
    Janis pressed her lips together. It seemed little had changed.
    Beyond the A’s, Janis was dismayed to discover Star again. She was perched on the horizontal bookcase like one of the skeletal ravens depicted on her shoes. She hadn’t spoken another word the rest of typing class—not about her sister, not about anything—but just stared straight ahead with vacant eyes. Maybe she was a couple olives short of a pizza. Whatever the case, Janis decided that sitting beside her in one class was more than charitable. She sidled away until she had a tall student between them. She was preparing to peek back, to see if Star had seen her, when the tall student spoke.
    “H-hi, Janis.”
    Janis raised her gaze and then stared a moment, recognizing and not recognizing the bespectacled face and distressed head of brown hair. Her gaze fell to his crumpled blue shirt, then returned to his glasses, which went crooked when he smiled. And now it clicked. He lived up the street from her, though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him. Last school year, maybe? It was hard to say. He had turned into one of those quiet types who were easy to miss. But whenever it had been, he was much taller