The Tori Trilogy by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén Page A

super-cute with my favorite jeans and green sneakers. But not anymore. Compared to Anastasia, I look like a dork. And I feel like one, too.
    I move my mouth, but no sound comes out. I can feel my cheeks burning, and as I glance back toward Mr. London’s desk, where he is busy shuffling through papers, to see if he heard Anastasia (he didn’t), my eyes glaze over with tears. Oh, no. This is bad, bad, bad.
    Shannon comes to my rescue. She slings her arm over my shoulders and pulls me close. “Hey, Anastasia?” she says. “That was super-rude.”
    Finally I find my voice. I’m not going to just stand here and let Shannon defend me. I am, after all, the girl who’s learned to hold her own against her (usually) obnoxious big brothers. “Yeah,” I pipe up. “I don’t know what your problem is, Anastasia Adams. Why don’t you just tell me why you don’t like me?” My voice is snarky now, and finally I’m satisfied.
    â€œYou don’t like Tori?” asks Abigail, one of the other girls who are standing around us with their mouths hanging open. “Why not?”
    â€œTori’s great,” Bryn adds defensively. “You didn’t have to be so rude about her outfit. I think it’s cute.”
    Anastasia stares at all of us for a long moment, and then she laughs. This time, it sounds friendly again. “Oh, my goodness,” she says, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Can’t you girls take a joke? I was only kidding .” She smiles at me. “Tori, your outfit is cute. I just love frogs.”
    I don’t believe her. In fact, I’ll never again believe a word that comes out of her mouth. Shannon doesn’t seem to, either. She and I edge away from the group of girls to go sit at our desks. But Bryn and Abigail and the others look relieved. They want to think the best of Anastasia.
    Gina enters the classroom just then. She puts her folder away and comes to say hi to Shannon and me. “What’s going on over there?” She nods toward the windows, where our classmates are still clustered.
    I roll my eyes. “You don’t want to know.”
    The bell interrupts us with its high-pitched ring. Anastasia and the others break away from the windows and hurry to their desks. A group of boys come stampeding in from the hallway, laughing and shoving each other to get into their seats.
    Gina’s eyes are still full of question marks.
    â€œI’ll tell you at lunch,” I whisper.
    She nods, seeming happy with that. Finally, she takes a seat at her desk. The school day has officially started.
    In the lunchroom later, I sit down with Shannon right away. I brought a lunch from home today, too, which is an especially good thing, because Sloppy Joes are on the menu, and you’ve never tasted Sloppy Joes from Forest Grove Elementary. One word: ewww. (That’s probably why they’re named after my brother.)
    I unwrap my peanut-butter sandwich and squeeze the bread gently until the strawberry jelly comes oozing out over the sides a little, just the way I like. Then I take a bite. I look across at Shannon.
    She has a Lunchables today, one of those that come with crust and sauce and cheese so you can make your own mini pizzas. She’s putting one together now, very slowly, as though she’s not even paying attention to what she’s doing.
    I realize that my sandwich tastes like nothing. I must be distracted, too. I put it down on top of the plastic wrap Mom sent it in. “Are you thinking about Anastasia?” I whisper to Shannon.
    â€œHow did you know?” She puts her little pizza down, too.
    I shrug. “I just can’t figure her out.”
    â€œWho?” Gina comes up and slips into the seat beside me, setting her tray on the table. I can’t even stand to look at her Sloppy Joe.
    â€œAnastasia,” Shannon and I say together.
    â€œI thought so.” Gina picks