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someone is trying to talk to you. Second of all, how do you know she doesn’t need another friend? You can never have too many friends. And besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”
    â€œThe worst that can happen is that she tells all her friends how I called for plans and everyone knows how pathetic I really am.” I get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen for a snack. “Just forget about it. Go with Nathan to his soccer game. I’ll be fine here.”
    â€œYou can at least come with us to his soccer game.” My mom follows me into the kitchen. She doesn’t understand the term
personal space
.
    I grab a handful of almonds. “No way. Then if by chance anyone from school is there, they’ll know how pathetic I amthat I didn’t even have plans so I had to tag along with my parents to my younger brother’s soccer game.”
    â€œWell, if they’re at the game, they must be pathetic, too, right?” My mom leans onto the island in the kitchen. She has a look on her face like she’s just so smart.
    â€œNo, because I bet they’ll be there with someone else.” I clench my teeth. My mother has to be the most infuriating person in the world. I’m sorry it pains her so much that I don’t have any friends, but it was her idea to move us here. If we were back home, I’d be with Ali right now. We’d be planning our outfits for the next two weeks and drinking iced tea on her back patio.
    â€œEither call the girl or come with us to the game,” my mom insists. “One or the other. But I’m not leaving you here alone.”
    â€œI’m thirteen years old, Mom. I can handle staying home alone.”
    â€œStop talking back to me, Dina.”
    â€œFine, I’ll call Chelsea, but leave the room, please.” I don’t know why I think this is a good plan. Clearly, she’s not going to leave the room. And I could have made it much simpler by leaving the room myself and pretending to call upstairs. Sometimes I just don’t think things through.
    â€œI won’t listen. Just call her.”
    â€œI’ll go upstairs.”
    â€œDina. Call her now.”
    My mom is a half a minute away from screaming. I do not want her to scream. Because then my dad will get involved, and he’ll be mad at me. Nathan will be late to his game, and it will all be my fault.
    I take my cell phone out of my jeans pocket and dial Chelsea’s number. The only reason I have it is because Mr. Valakis made us exchange numbers so we’d be prepared to work on the project together. Rockwood Hills Middle School isn’t the kind of school to have a phone directory, and I wouldn’t have one anyway since I came a month late.
    Please don’t be home. Please don’t be home. Please don’t be home,
I pray. And then I realize how dumb I am because even if she isn’t home this is her cell phone number.
Please don’t answer. Please don’t answer. Please don’t answer.
    â€œHello?” a male voice answers on the fourth ring.
    A male voice? On her cell phone? Does she have a boyfriend? Or is this her dad answering her phone? I absolutely forbid my parents from answering my phone, and they obey my request. Usually.
    â€œUm, hi, is Chelsea there?”
    â€œNo, she’s at the movies with her friends.” A pause. “Who’s this?”
    Oh, God, clearly this person knows I’m not her friend, because if I was her friend, I’d be at the movies with her. And everyone else. So who am I talking to? And why doesn’t Chelsea have her cell phone with her? Why did my mom make me do this? And why is my life so unbelievably embarrassing?
    â€œOh, um, I’m Dina.” I swallow hard and debate just hanging up.
    â€œDid you try her cell?”
    â€œI thought this was her cell?” I say and feel even worse than before. What is worse than an utter living hell? Whatever it is, I’m