Haiti and Luna confronted me in dance class today, for whatever they accused me of. It had been ages since I talked to them, or even looked at them. It was like I’d thrown them aside when I became friends with Atlanta.
“You sit with us at lunch, but you talk to Atlanta as if we’re not even there,” Haiti said, her lips pursed. “We were very hurt.” I was pinched by remorse, not meeting her eyes.
“Seriously,” Luna added with a huff. “You ditched us for the popular kids, haven’t you? You get to dance with Caspian, and Eddie pays so much attention to you. It’s not fair. What do you have up your sleeve?”
“Pathetic,” Haiti said before I could apologize. “When was the last time we went shopping together?” If I recalled, it would be never. “When was the last time we did homework together?” Agai
