I shoved him back against the locker, then quickly spun around to check for witnesses. I did not want anyone seeing me sweat Justin Balmer in plain sight. Luckily, the only person in the hallway was bespectacled Ari Ang, who scurried by carrying a beaker full of something green.

“I didn’t see anything,” the Anger pleaded, covering his large-frame glasses with his beaker. “I’m just on my way to chemistry. . ” His voice trailed off, and I turned back around to face Justin.

Once, we might have laughed about the Anger’s perpetual beaker handling. Now I wanted to spit my new piece of Juicy Fruit in J.B.’s face. But I made myself swallow the bilious instinct. I forced a smile.

“Aww,” I cooed. “It’s cute that you still think your — what was your phrase — charming imperfections are secret.” I let my eyes pause deliberately on his crotch before spitting out my gum, tearing off a piece of Justin’s poster, and wadding the yellow sphere inside it. “Don’t worry,” I went on, “my lips were sealed. But if you ever want to really check in with yourself, try hacking into the Bambi blog about you — and maybe stop slutting yourself out quite so much. Those girls are merciless. See ya.”

“Nat,” he grabbed my wrist, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Come on.”

“Come on what?”

“Can’t a guy change?” he asked so quietly I had to lean in to hear.

I hung there, knowing the answer like I knew my own name: no. But I couldn’t make myself respond. Finally, I settled for whipping my hand away and ducking inside the junior bathroom. I leaned against the back of the door, working to catch my breath. I wondered if Justin was still standing on the other side. I wondered if there was anything I could do to rattle him.

“Hey Tracy,” I said, refixing a smile on my face when I saw the juniors in their shamanistic circle.