Dylan is walking around his usual opaque self, only somewhat stormier around the edges. Arif looks straight through Siobhan in homeroom, so you have to figure he knows, and if he knows, then Dylan knows too. “Fun,” Kimmy says, plopping down next to me in English. “A shitstorm.” I don’t even pretend not to know what she’s talking about. I say, “Please. The guy was trying to chew my neck before I pushed him over. It didn’t mean anything.” “Frank Gart!” she says. “He played soccer with my brother Kirby.” This girl has a never-ending supply of older brothers. “He’s in his fraternity at Penn. He should join Polysubstance Freaks Anonymous and call it a day.” I say, “He put the moves on me, too, and it’s not like I was asking for it either.” I’m thinking, There, see how loyal I am? Here I am, lying my head off to defend Siobhan from what appear to be completely true rumors of cheating. Kimmy says, “Get real. Like anyone thinks you cheat on Jean-Luc? But Frank Gart is Frank Gart, and she’s her.”
