Patsy felt guilty. She didn't say those harsh things to Mildred in the hallway, but she stood there among all those laughing faces while Mildred ran away in tears. She had looked right at Patsy for a whole second and that memory now left a dull ache inside her chest.

"Patty!"

Patsy startled and focused on Chelle, who'd just called her by the wrong name. The gym bleachers spanned wall to wall behind Chelle, who was standing with her hands on her hips, elbows out, the Roanoke Turkey proudly displayed on her gym top. It was the same head cheerleader stance she used on the field as they performed in front of a crowd, except she wasn't smiling. She was glaring at Patsy with impatience.

"I've been calling you for forever!" Chelle complained—which wasn't true, because they'd only started third-period gym.

Well, if you used the right name . . . Patsy thought.

"What is wrong with you? You've been spacing out all day!" Chelle said.

"Totes spacey," Donna Anderson said as she came up to Chelle's side.

Being one of the shorter girls on the cheer squad, Donna's head came up to Chelle's shoulders. Her extremely long, dark hair was loose, trailing down her back like a grim reaper's robe.

This was Donna's first year on the squad, one of their freshman intakes. She was a horrible cheerleader. Loud but forgetful, she sometimes shouted the wrong words over all the other girls, but she came along with Joan Renfro. Joan stood at Chelle's other shoulder, her long hair as blond as Donna's was black. Patsy thought of them as the yin-yang twins, because they always stuck together, one dark as a raven, the other light as a dove.

As Aaron's younger sister, Joan had been an automatic addition to the squad, but besides that, she was exceptionally good. Good enough to probably earn scholarships—unlike Patsy, who didn't have any scholarship offers and couldn't afford to go to college. That thought plagued her daily. What would she do when the others started talking about college plans? Patsy could never tell the other girls the truth.

"Sorry, I was just . . ." Her mind stumbled around for something vapid to say. "Thinking about what I should wear on my date with Seth tonight."

"Oh! The blue skirt, you know the one, and the white long-sleeved crop top. Definitely not that cheap Burberry knock-off you wore earlier. That thing was so ugh," Chelle said, then she readopted captain cheerleader mode. "Donna, stay up here with me. Patty, you take Donna's place near the back until you decide you're ready to stop spacing out."

The insult followed by the idea of being replaced by Donna jolted Patsy.

"I'm sorry, Chelle, really," she said. "I can focus."

Chelle kept her eyes on Patsy, but held her palm up at Donna, stopping her in her tracks.

"You better, because I can't have this kind of thing happening at the game. You'll make us all look like losers."

"I would never," promised Patsy.

Chelle waved Donna back and they took position once more. This time, Patsy tried hard to focus on the cheer and do all the right moves. High V, daggers, clasp, low V, daggers, clasp, broken T, T, hip swing, head nod, make sure you're smiling as if all of this isn't just a vexatious attempt to try to fit in with people you don't even really like. Patsy went into a left lunge with a left bow and arrow position, but her left foot entangled with Paige Carpenter's. Paige tried to dodge Patsy's fist as it came close to her face in the bow and arrow. Both girls lost their footing and went down.

"Ouch, Patty," Paige said. "What the hell?"

"Sorry, sorry! Are you hurt?" Patsy stood up quickly and tried to help Paige to her feet.

"Stop, just don't touch me," Paige grumbled, cradling her ankle.

"I just . . . I'm sorry. I—"

"Are you good, Paige?" Chelle asked, but she didn't move forward to help the girl on the floor. The words were the right ones, but they were void of true sympathy. Purely factual. What Chelle meant was, are you okay to perform rather than are you okay as a fellow human being with emotions and nerve endings.

"My ankle hurts a little," Paige said.

"Crap. We need some ice quick, there's no way we'll find a replacement before the game. Patty, this is your fault, go get her some ice. Ten minutes, everyone!"

Patsy took off across the gym and up the steps into the first-floor hallway, determined to break the record for fastest run to the nurse's station. She'd been an idiot, letting ancient history seep in. Current social standings were on the line at the expense of her disinclination to put the past behind her. Mildred wasn't her friend anymore. She hadn't been for a long time, even though that fact saddened Patsy. The truth was, even if the falling-out hadn't happened between their parents, Patsy probably would have ditched Mildred by the end of junior high anyway, because Mildred was so unpopular.

The nurse's door was wide open when Patsy arrived, and Mrs. Weller, a young, slim, honey-blond woman, was sitting at her desk scribbling something Patsy couldn't see. The room was clean as a whistle, with everything in shades of white and gray. It gave off the same feeling as a waiting room in a doctor's office; something sterile, but more inviting than an actual medical room.

"Mrs. Weller?" Patsy asked.

The woman looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Patsy," Mrs. Weller said in a very deep Texas drawl. "How can I help ya?"

"We had a little fall in the gym. No big deal, I just need an ice pack."

"Sure can do," Mrs. Weller said.

She made her way over to a small cooler at the back of the room. Patsy got a glimpse of Gatorade bottles, some Lunchables, several ice packs, and a vial or two of some liquids. Mrs. Weller took an ice pack and handed it to Patsy.

"Have you been having any more stomachaches?"

"I've been doing better," Patsy said.

She hadn't been better, she had just gotten more used to the stomachaches. Since her mother had recently lost yet another job, food hadn't been as abundant as it should be around the Porter house. Patsy didn't work. She had cheer practice and a social life to keep up. There was no time, which was just as good, because even if there had been, she could never have let the others know that she had to work. She couldn't let them find out that her father was in jail and her single mother struggled to take care of her. That was the kind of thing she didn't think popular kids dealt with. None of the other girls had mentioned any similar situations, and the one girl they knew in school who worked in a restaurant often got called out for coming from a poor family. Patsy hated it. It wasn't fair, and at least the girl was trying to do something to change her life. But Patsy kept her mouth shut. Then when her mother lost one of her cleaning jobs, Patsy kept her mouth shut. She went to Mrs. Weller a few times for a snack near the end of the school day, because she knew there would be no snack waiting at home.

"That's good to hear, sugar," Mrs. Weller said. She said sugar a lot, and Patsy liked it a lot better than Patty.

"Thanks," she said as she backed out of the room.

Before she could get all the way out, she bumped into something.

"Oh, sorry, Patsy, dear," Miss Morgan said breathlessly.

"It's okay, it was my fault," Patsy said.

She took her leave by going around the winded art teacher and headed back to the gym. She passed Mildred's locker, still hanging open. Random garbage now spilled from it. Crumpled papers, something wet, and someone had opened a condom and thrown it in there.

"Assholes," Patsy mumbled.

She suddenly wanted to call and ask Mildred if she was okay, but on second thought, she felt that would be a stupid question. Of course Mildred wasn't okay. Patsy saw what Mildred dealt with day in and day out. How could anyone be okay? Embarrassment flooded Patsy. Part of that was her fault. If she had just said something—but Mildred rushed away without acknowledging Patsy at all, and the opportunity was missed.

***

Chelle called off practice and let them play volleyball with the other students in gym class, but not before she threatened Paige's position on the squad, due to her new ankle injury. Chelle promised her that if she couldn't pick it up later in the day at practice, she'd be replaced.

Patsy didn't bother hitting the court with the others, where they'd set up a makeshift volleyball net. She wanted a break from the popular group and found solitude in the gym showers. Warm water beat down on her and splashed on the tiles while she let her mind roam. From somewhere inside, she longed for the days when she would just hang out with Mildred in front of the television, enjoying one of their fun '80s horror movie marathons. Mildred had the best collection, but she always got so frightened at the scary parts. Patsy wondered if Mildred still watched them even though Patsy wasn't there to tell her when it was okay to open her eyes again.