On the bus, I accost Casey.

“Hi, Casey. You look pretty today.”

It was true. Casey’s red hair hung down to her waist, down over the back of her coal-black sweater. Her black jeans fitted just right, and her red hi-tops were totally cool. Her blue eyes sparkled angrily as I talked, but she said nothing.

“Why are you so… unfriendly?” I ask her. “I’ve been trying to make friends with you, because- because you’re COOL. And you’ve been blowing me off for two weeks.”

“Aria…” she says, obviously at a loss for words. “Um… I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I can’t make friends.”

“Why not?”

“If you really want to know, meet me on the corner of Elm and Birch at midnight tonight. I can’t let anyone else hear.”

“Why?”

“This is my deepest, darkest secret,” she said quietly.