Crush Control by Jennifer Jabaley

over to Mia. I recognized her from the previous day in English class. “Hey girl,” she said to Mia.
    â€œHi.” Mia adopted a much lighter tone than the one she had used with me.
    â€œLove your skirt,” Sadie said.
    â€œThanks.” Mia smoothed the sides of her painted-on, metal-embellished black skirt. “Did you tell Riley about the new song?”
    Sadie nodded. “Total approval.”
    â€œWhew.” Mia smiled. “Thanks.” She started to walk again, and I followed, feeling a little bit like a dog. I couldn’t quite get a handle on Mia. She wasn’t mean to me, and I didn’t exactly feel invisible, but she seemed very wary of me for some reason.
    â€œSo,” she said, turning toward me. “How exactly is it that you became friends with Quinton?”
    â€œWe sort of . . . bumped into each other at the park.”
    She looked me over with an intrigued expression, like she wondered if bumped into each other was code for bumping and grinding. I almost jumped in to correct her, but then I decided to let Mia wonder if I was the kind of girl Quinton would go for. It was thrilling to even pretend of the possibility. This was my reinvention, after all. I followed her behind the house to the backyard, where there was a large brick patio—perfect for a stage. Several people stood around a stone fire pit where an actual fire was sizzling—a fire! In this heat! Insanity! But the flickering yellow and orange flames sent waves of amber light into the darkening sky, and it did set a nice mood.
    Mia scanned the area in planning mode when a burly guy, tall and gorgeous—looking a little like Taylor Lautner—walked over. His eyes were semi-closed under thick black eyebrows and he wore an expression like maybe the English language was too hard to muster right now.
    â€œHey sweetie!” Mia cooed, reaching up to stroke his mammoth bicep. “Are you having fun? Do you need another drink?”
    I realized this must be Jake—Mia’s boyfriend.
    He shook his head.
    â€œYour party is great. ” Mia tilted her chin up at him—maybe waiting for a kiss, or maybe just trying to close the gap in their height difference. “I mean, like, everyone is here. Everyone!”
    He looked over at me and Mia followed his gaze. “Are you that chick who’s doing a hypnosis show?” Jake asked, shocking me that he could, indeed, speak. “Quinton said you had weird eyes.”
    I didn’t know whether to be happy that Quinton was talking about me or upset because he’d called my eyes weird. At the park he’d said wicked . Wicked was much better than weird .
    â€œYes,” Mia answered for me with a pinched look on her face. “Her name is Willow.”
    Jake lumbered in the direction of the patio door. “I’ll go tell Quinton. He’ll be psyched.”
    Quinton will be psyched. I replayed the words in my head and for a moment, contemplated, could Quinton—beautiful, tousled, almost-top-of-the-pyramid Quinton—like me? I quickly squashed that thought and reasoned that he was just excited about seeing his classmates do something funny.
    Jake opened the glass French doors and started to walk inside. He paused momentarily, halfway into the threshold, and I wanted to tell him to shut the door or all these softball-size bugs would enter the house, but I kept my mouth shut. He looked back over at me. “You need anything?” he asked.
    â€œCould you get me a drink?” Mia asked sweetly.
    â€œI meant for the show,” he said.
    â€œOh,” Mia said softly.
    I felt uneasy, like I was caught in some kind of a quiet, passive lovers’ quarrel. I looked at Jake. “Um, some chairs?” I suggested.
    He gestured with his chin toward a collection of wicker patio furniture. “I’ll get some folding chairs too.”
    â€œAnd my drink?” Mia asked, slightly desperate.
    He disappeared