Dear Kristy,

I'm sorry you're the biggest, bossiest know-it-all in the world, but what can I do about it? Have you considered seeking professional help?

Dear Claudia,

I'm sorry I called you a stuck-up job-hog. You don't deserve that, and I didn't really mean it. I hope you can forgive me.

Love, Mary Anne

Now that was a note I could send.

In English class, I finished my work early. I carefully removed a fresh piece of looseleaf paper from the middle of my notebook, and took my special cartridge pen from my purse. The cartridge was filled with peacock-blue ink, and the nib on the pen made my handwriting look like scrolly, swirly calligraphy.

Slowly, making sure each word looked perfect and was spelled correctly, I printed the note to Claudia. Then I waved it back and forth to dry the ink, folded it twice (making the creases straight and even), and tucked it in my purse. I would give it to her at lunchtime.

My knees felt weak as I made my way to the cafeteria a few minutes later. I'd know right away whether Stacey and Claudia had made up, or if they were still mad, too. They always sat with the same kids — a sophisticated group that included boys.

The first thing I did when I entered the cafeteria was look around to see what was what with my friends. I found Claudia and Stacey's table. There was the usual bunch, or almost the usual bunch: Pete, Howie, Rick, Dori, Emily, and Stacey. But no Claudia.

So. Claudia and Stacey hadn't made up, either.

I scanned the lunchroom and finally found Claudia. She was sitting with Trevor Sand-bourne. Just the two of them. Trevor is this boy she likes and goes out with sometimes. Claudia was leaning on her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders, whispering to Trevor. He was listening with a smile on his face. They looked very private and very cozy.

I edged around a crowded table toward the one where Kristy and I always sit with the Shillaber twins, Mariah and Miranda.