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Scotty’s look of self-admiration in the mirror didn’t change.

King Scotty thought I would drop Len in half a heartbeat to go out with him. Christ, it really pisses me off that someone like Scotty feels so superior to someone like Len, and that his delusions of grandeur are perpetuated by all the morons at school. If only Haviland had published my “Sycophants, Suck-Ups, and Scrubs” editorial, maybe this would’ve never happened. But no, since all Pineville High has gotten down on their knees to pay homage (or hummage, as the case may be) to the Grand Poo-bah of the Upper Crust, he has no reason to believe that there are dissenters in the kingdom. When he walks down the hall, into the classroom, or onto the court, all eyes are on him, his own included. Scotty has a steroidal case of self-love, and God help me if I was going to pump him up even more.

“I’m not breaking up with Len,” I replied, suddenly appreciating his awkwardness in the presence of such balls-out machismo. I hadn’t talked to Len since he dropped me off at my house, and now it was the only thing I really wanted to do. I wanted to set things straight, but I had to get this meatballer out of my room first. I got up and opened the door to show Scotty out.

He chuckled as he got up from the bed. “Okay, Jess, play hard to get,” he said. “But you can’t deny what we have.”

Oh, Christ. What we have is a jock jacked on his own delusions of grandeur, and a girl who has been a fool to take her lovely, sensitive boyfriend for granted. As I dialed Len’s digits, I wanted to kick myself for not having tried to talk to him sooner. His mom answered.

“Hi, Mrs. Levy,” I said, trying my best to muster wholesome overachieverness.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said dryly.

“May I speak to Len please?”

She smacked her lips together. “Well, if it were up to me, I’d say no,” she said. “But Len is an adult and can make his own decisions, so I’ll let him decide whether or not he wants to talk to you. Heh-heh-heh.”

Her laughter was cheerless and eerie. She must have been joking because I couldn’t imagine any parent saying that to me and really meaning it. So I laughed weakly, too.

After about two minutes of waiting, Len finally got on the phone. I have never been so happy to hear his voice.

“Len!”

“Jess,” he replied, his voice as fixed and chilly as an uncracked tray of ice cubes.

“Uh . . . I . . .”

“We need to talk about last night,” he said without stammering.

“Uh . . . that’s why I called . . .”

“Let’s meet at Helga’s Diner at six.”

“Oh. Okay. I thought we could—”

“Helga’s at six,” he said, cutting me off. “See you.”

I knew Len would arrive exactly on time, so I got there ten minutes early to compose myself. I had my excuse in my head: I didn’t remember what I said. I remembered what I did—what we did, or rather, what we almost did—but not what I said. A white lie, for the sake of saving the relationship, which I really wanted to save. Really. Len wasn’t an asshole or a player. He was an honest, upright guy, which is hard to find at Pineville High, or anywhere for that matter. I was lucky enough to have him and I wanted to keep him. As for what I said about Marcus, I would explain how I didn’t remember saying it, and that drugs are unpredictable and unreliable and have nothing to do with reality, which is why people take them, but I apologize for taking them, and he can rest easy knowing I’ll never do it again, and what I said about Marcus was nothing, nothing at all . . .

Little did I know that there would be a third party in this summit and that he would already be seated at a booth when I arrived.

“What did you do last night?” Marcus asked, genuinely baffled.

“Oh, shit.” I slumped into the banquette across the table from him. “What did Len say?”

“Nothing. He’s really upset but won’t say why. He just told me that we all had to be here. What happened?”

Where to start? What to say?

“I think he’s mad because I did E last night,” I said.

Marcus’s eyes popped. “That would do it. Len is so straight edge that he won’t even take Tylenol when he