They caught her unawares. Anna Maria lunged forward and grabbed her towel, leaving Camilla in just her T-shirt and panties.

“Hey!” Camilla cried.

“You think you’re so hot,” Anna Maria said. “But you’re not. Everyone hates you, you slut.”

“You’re such a lesbo,” Debbie contributed. “Prancing around like a freaking ballerina.”

Camilla grabbed for her towel. “I am a ballerina, you idiots.”

“So dance for us,” Debbie said. “Show us what you can do.”

I knew I should do something, stop them, but part of me thrummed with desire. Part of me wanted to join in.

“—and don’t go running to Mr. Principal, because he doesn’t give a fuck,” Anna Maria was saying. “He hates you as much as we do.”

Oh god. Mr. Van Housen. The last thing I needed was to be dragged to his office again, a witness for the second time. What would Bitsy say to that?

I made myself turn away, telling myself it was none of my business. Anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone was actually getting hurt. Coach Shaw would come soon to hurry everyone to their next class, and Debbie and Anna Maria would drop the game. Camilla would be fine.

I felt like throwing up.

I returned home to another of Dad’s guilt offerings, this time a silver pendant from Macedonia. The pendant hung from a black silk cord, and it was in the shape of a J, for Jane. Because clearly, in Dad’s mind, I was still learning my letters—or at least still wearing them around my neck, as the fad had been in elementary school.

I could wear the necklace if I wanted to, and people would see it as a kitschy-cool. Soon every girl in school would have her first initial dangling from a cord. Or, more likely, they’d all have my first initial dangling from cords. An army of glittering Js.

Only that would be way too depressing.

I lowered the pendant onto my dresser. Sometimes I didn’t know which was worse: the possibility that Dad would keep sending these inane gifts, when all they did was remind me of what I didn’t have, or the possibility that one day he would stop.

Out of nowhere, a memory wormed in. Me, huddled naked in an empty bathtub, because I didn’t know how to work the faucets. I must have been about five, and usually Mom ran my bath for me. But that night, Dad was on duty. “You can do it,” he’d said, barely looking up from his magazine. “You’re a big girl.”

When he’d come to check on me half an hour later, still huddling naked in the empty tub, his face had caved in. “Oh, baby,” he’d said. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Remembering, the stupid familiar ache opened up inside me. Did Dad ever feel this ache? No, I didn’t think so, or he would be here. So if he didn’t care, why did I?

I opened my dresser drawer and scooped the necklace toward me, letting it fall in with the other Dad dross. Then I paused. Wait a minute, wait just a minute …

Lurl.

Yes. It was perfect.

Excitement swelled inside me. No more stealing, and Alicia would be free. And hey, thanks to Dad I had tons of crap I could give away. A piece of crap a week, no problem. Even non-crap if it came down to it. I could take the loss.

I snatched back the pendant and did a happy dance on my blue shag carpet, gyrating my hips. It lasted about a minute before I was hit with reality. Because they would have figured it out before, wouldn’t they? If it were possible to beat the system, wouldn’t Bitsy and Keisha and Mary Bryan all be offering up junk of their own?

Unless I was the only one smart enough to think of it. Unless they liked siphoning off other girls’ popularity—which in Bitsy’s case seemed almost certainly true.

Or maybe—aha—maybe they were putting their own lip balms and clippies on Lurl the Pearl’s desk. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to think of it; maybe I was just the last to think of it. And they were all cackling secretly to themselves as they waited for me to catch on. Well, hahaha, they wouldn’t be laughing for long.

Then the oh, shit feeling descended again as I realized the flaw in my logic. If the object I offered Lurl was mine, then it would be my popularity that would be siphoned off. And bestowed upon … me, as the object-giver? Which would mean I’d have the same amount of popularity as I’d started with, no more and no less. Which wasn’t so bad, really …

Except I wouldn’t have the bonus bit from Alicia anymore. I’d return to non-Bitch status, which would totally suck.

I lay back on my bed and groaned.

“Jane?” Mom called. “Everything all right?”

I popped up. Jesus, she was right outside my door. “Everything’s fine,” I said. “What are you doing?”

She pushed in and sat down beside me. “Hey, baby,” she said. She pulled me into a sideways hug. Recently she’d been very huggy. “Not to be nosy, but you’ve seemed kind of stressed the last couple of days. Anything bothering you?”

I relaxed against her, soaking in her Mom-ness. She smelled like leftover Chinese food. “Not really,” I said. “Just, you know, high school.”

“Hmm. Yeah. I remember those days.” She combed my hair with her fingers. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nah.”

“Okay.” She held me for a little while longer, then gave me a parting squeeze and stood up. “You’re a good person, Jane. I love you more and more each day.”

I felt a pang.

“Night, doll.” She pulled the door shut behind her.

I flopped back on the bed. The pendant, still in my hand, had grown warm from my touch.

Screw it, I decided. It wasn’t really mine; I’d had it for less than a day. Tomorrow I’d give it to Lurl, and whatever would happen would happen.

As I was brushing my teeth, it came to me that I no longer doubted that all this was real. The offerings, the siphoning of power. Lurl. No longer was I saying to myself, “Oh, baloney. You don’t really believe this stuff, do you?” Because I did believe, I guess ever since that moment in geometry when the world slipped to the side. When I saw how just a shimmering shadow separated what could and couldn’t be.

My toothbrush stilled as I thought again of Sandy, whose need for affirmation ran too deep. Who died for her sins. But that would never happen to me, because I wasn’t like that. Maybe I used to be, but not anymore.

I brushed hard to combat the sudden sourness of my breath. When I spit, my toothpaste was tinged with blood.

“Um, no,” Keisha said. She dangled the J from her slender fingers, then yanked upward on the cord, caught the pendant in her palm, and shoved the whole thing into the pocket of my denim jacket.

“Not cool,” she said as I stumbled backward. “Lurl told me you put it on her desk, trying to pass it off as a proper offering. Did you honestly think she wouldn’t know?”

“I just thought … I mean, I was only—”

Keisha waved her hand. “Don’t.”

I knew I was bright red, because I could feel the heat in my face. Being scolded by Keisha was horrible, worse by far than if it were Mary Bryan or even Bitsy.

Keisha walked farther away from Hamilton Hall, indicating with a head jerk that I was to follow. She stepped around a tabby cat basking in the sun. It regarded us with indolent amber eyes. When we were clearly, absolutely alone, she said, “It’s been a week, Jane. You’re neglecting your responsibilities.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just …” I knew that nothing I could say would make it better. “I don’t like that part.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What part?”

My voice went even tinier. “The stealing.”

The look Keisha flashed me was wounded as well as pissed, as if I’d been incredibly tacky to mention it.

“It’s the way it works,” she said in clipped tones. “For one to rise, another must fall.”