I push out a breath and punch in the numbers. The phone rings. “Hello?” A voice picks up on the second ring, and my heart stops. I’d been hoping for an answering machine or at least a couple more rings. “May I speak with Chloe, please?” “Speaking,” she says, her overly polite tone matching mine. I pause. We both know who’s on the other end. “It’s Sam. Samantha Waxman.” Recipient of the lame-o of the year award. There’s no response. “Uh,” I say. Brilliant. All the things I rehearsed evaporate from my head. My mind is blank. I squeeze my eyes tight. “I was wondering if we could talk.” I hear nothing. No breathing. No background noise. I wonder if she hung up on me. “Hello?” I say. “I’m here,”