she won, that meant he would lose. But it wasn't like he was going to have a hard

time getting into any college he wanted. He got straight As in everything.

She chanced another glance at his project, and she had to admit, it looked impressive. She wasn't exactly sure what it was supposed to be, but it had the requisite metal tubes, wires, and hoses sticking out of it. A little wisp of steam or something floated up from one of the connections. The corners of her mouth drooped. It looked like he was her competition.

She'd begun working on her project in early summer, right after school had ended. But, she'd told Peter, she had a problem. A problem she had to admit she'd created only to get his help. How to balance the glass in her intricate mobile. It was just science-y enough to get his attention and get him into her basement where she was working on it.

It had all been going so well. They were starting to connect again, sharing thoughts, dreams about the future after high school, occasionally “accidentally”

touching hands. And then…

A hard frown creased Katie's face.

She moved in.

July 5, when she and Peter had been picking up bottle-rocket sticks from their yards after the neighborhood fireworks the night before, an orange and white U-Haul had pulled in front of the Proctor's old house across the street. Not the usual pull-behind trailer U-Haul but the big job, the semi. They watched all

afternoon as it poured out furniture—nice-looking furniture, too, and a pool table and a ping pong table and a big-screen TV.

And then a light blue minivan pulled up. Illinois license plates. Cook

County. She knew from her parents that meant Chicago and big-city

sophistication and culture. The side door rolled open automatically and out stepped Miss Hair Toss, Miss Perfect Teeth, slow-motion, like she was

auditioning for a movie.

Penny Fitch. Short shorts and a Tiffany watch. Katie could almost see Peter's

blue eyes widen behind his glasses, lopsided smile on his face.

And that was it. It was clear. She needed to save him. Save him from this usurper, this new (obviously rich) girl from the city who had flounced in like she owned the place.

All summer long, Kate gagged when she heard, “Hi, Peter! Hey, Peter!

What's up, Peter?” And then when senior year started, it got worse. Peter and Penny's lockers were only three feet apart. Katie's was on a different floor. Then at lunch, Penny would sit on the opposite side of Peter, battling her eyelashes and asking him for help with her chemistry homework.

Penny was ruining everything.

Peter couldn't see her like Katie could. He was too nice. That was always his

weakness, too nice, to a fault. But Katie could see what was going on. Penny thought she knew him, that just because she was cute and liked science and was

in cross country with him, she could pick him right up, like some sort of adorable puppy.

And how cute and giggly she acted around him. “Penny and Peter, two peas

in a pod. It almost rhymes!” Kate heard her say at lunch once.

Barf. No, it doesn't, you moron.

All her cooing and tittering and hair tosses. Penny Fitch, the wispy witch.

And when Katie was really mad, she used another word besides witch. Not out

loud, of course, because she was still a nice girl.

But the thought that unnerved her most, the one she never dared entertain for

more than a few seconds, was what if Peter was only being nice to Katie, too?

What if all the time they'd spent together, growing up, sharing pecan pie shakes

at Ray's Diner, was all just him being nice? What if she wasn't special?

No, that was negative thinking, and she squelched it.

It was her mission to protect Peter from this new girl.

Phase One: Keep him busy through the summer. That meant ramping up the

need for advice on her Scholarship Fair project, pool parties with Peter at her friend's house (without Penny, of course), and anything she could think of to keep the witch at bay.

Phase Two, which commenced after school started, was harder: Katie made

sure, whenever she could, that Penny never got a private word in with Peter, inserting herself into their conversations or making sure that one of her friends

(none of who liked the new girl, either) did likewise. But there was still the proximity issue at home. Penny didn't live right next door (Katie still had that advantage), but she was close enough. Too close, judging by the smiles and waves she saw them exchanging and the runs they took together every so often.

That gave rise to Phase Three, the final and trickiest phase of all: the upcoming Homecoming Dance.

She had been dropping hints like lead feathers since late in the summer: Is

homecoming early again this year, Peter?… What's the theme for homecomingagain, Peter?… What do you think of this homecoming dress I found online,Peter?

Even for a boy, he seemed to be dense about getting the hint.

She hadn't gone to a Homecoming Dance until last year when Brian

McDermott had asked her. Nice enough guy, but he wore too much aftershave and sweated when they slow danced. It had taken three days for the Brut to wash

off her hands. Peter always smelled clean, like Ivory soap. At least that's what the Clarks used for soap in their guest bathroom the last time she'd been over there.

It was the final phase, her way of getting Peter off the starting line. If they

could just go to homecoming together, then they could see what it was like to be

a couple. Take the photo together under the flowered arch, smiling, she in the pink chiffon dress she'd already picked out online, him in his tux rented from Maxwell's downtown, complete with a pink tie to match her dress. He'd see the