Free Ripple by Heather Smith Meloche

quarterback?” Juliette asks.
    I nod, then read his message.
    Hey, pretty girl. Sorry this weekend is all about football. Homecoming soon. Principal Levy wants some of the team to eat lunch with him on Monday to talk it over. Wanna join us?
    I smile. Mom will be thrilled I have an in with Levy.
    â€œSo how’s it going with him?” Juliette asks.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, he’s cute and all,” she says, “but are you really into him?”
    I concentrate on what to type. Decide on, Sounds great :)
    â€œEarth to Tessa?” Juliette says.
    I look up. “Of course I like him,” I say too defensively.
    She holds up her open palm. “Okay. Okay. Down, girl. I just know you, Tess. You’re never, like, bubbly with emotion or whatever, but you don’t ever gush about this football dude.”
    I focus back on my math book, think of how I
do
like Seth. I like how he looks at me. I love how he holds me. We just don’t talk about a lot. But we’re both really busy. “We’ve only been dating a couple months, and we’re still getting to know eachother,” I tell Juliette. “We’re not getting married tomorrow or anything.”
    â€œFair enough,” she says. “Has he explained yet why he and Simone broke up?”
    I shake my head.
    â€œJust ask him,” she says. But it’s not that simple. I don’t want to pry or push. Because if I expect him to open up and tell me about his past girlfriends, then he might expect me to talk about the guys I’ve been with. And I don’t want to go there.
    â€œIt’s not my business,” I say.
    She sits up fast. “Well, I seriously disagree. Simone Channing is always looking at you like she wants you to die a slow and torturous death. That makes it your business.”
    I shrug. “Maybe. But he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”
    â€œWhatever. I think you give the males of our species too much credit, Tess. But I guess,” she continues, “if it doesn’t work out, you can always hook up with Jack ‘Sinister’ Dalton.”
    She laughs as I look at her like she’s crazy. But my traitorous mind imagines Jack—what it would feel like to kiss him with that silver ring in his lower lip.
    Until Juliette says, “Let’s do this math thing so we can make your grandma proud.” Then all I can think is how Grandma Leighton would be so less-than-proud if she ever saw me with pierced, tattooed, trouble-making Jack.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Juliette drags me through my math homework, and just as we dig into the suckishness that is biology, Willow slams the front door.
    Willow was colicky as a baby and tantrum-prone as a toddler, and now that she’s thirteen, her attitude is as grating as crushed glass. In two seconds, she’s at my bedroom door. Pounding.
    â€œCan I help you?” I open up to face her jutting hip, her perfectly curled hair secured in a neon-pink headband. Her lips puff and pout in the same color pink.
    â€œDid you finish your chores?” she asks.
    â€œMy day was lovely, Willow. Thanks for asking,” I say.
    She glares. “I did mine last night.”
    I clap for her.
    â€œWhatever.” Her brown eyes roll behind overly mascaraed lashes.
    Willow and I look nothing alike. She’s taller, lithe. A body like a beach volleyball player with long dark brown hair. My mom swears she looks central European, but with my stepdad being adopted and not knowing a thing about his biological parents, my sister’s heritage is a mystery. Her attitude, however, is bluntly obvious.
    â€œListen close, Tessa. Mom said she might be able to drop Serena and me at the movie theater later. So don’t talk, like, forever about your college plans so that lunch takes forever. You’ll screw my afternoon.”
    I try not to give in to my agitation and slap her.
    From behind Willow,