Never Enough by Denise Jaden Page B

her any explanation, and I knew she was just trying to rile me up. She used todo it in a good way, like when we had sleepovers at Deirdre’s and Shayleen had us both thinking we’d be marrying the guys we were crushing on.
    It’s not like I was scared of Shayleen—well, not in any physical way. But she knew a lot about me. Not just that I’d wanted to kiss Josh Garrison, but lots of things about how insecure I was about boys. I didn’t want to give her any more reason to try to hurt me.
    Turning back to my locker, I grabbed my history notebook and shoved it into my backpack, even though I didn’t have history homework.
    I didn’t turn around again until her footsteps echoed down the hall.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
    I came home to find Josh, with his head down, walking for his car.
    “Hey,” I said, forcing some volume so he’d be sure to hear me.
    He looked up and his face broke into a smile. “Hey, yourself.”
    “Leaving already?” I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. My mouth seemed to be spewing them without the help of my brain.
    He glanced to the upper floor of our house and pursed his lips like he wasn’t sure what to say. Then he just looked back at me and nodded. I wondered if he and Claire had a fight. Josh didn’t make a move for his car, but I had no idea what else to say. I really needed to take a class in Small Talk with Boys.
    “Not out with your boyfriend today?” he asked.
    I looked at him blankly. Did he mean Marcus? How would he even know about him? Did he and Claire talk about us—about me? “Marcus? He’s not . . . my boyfriend,” I said finally, looking down at my feet with a twinge of regret. I’d always known I didn’t have a chance with someone like Josh, but I guess I had let myself get my hopes up with Marcus. Now it didn’t look like that was going anywhere either.
    “Huh.” Josh reached for his door handle. “Too bad for him.”
    I stood in my driveway with my mouth hanging open, unable to form a good-bye, until Josh had driven down our street and turned the corner.
    When I could finally prod myself in the front door, I smelled his lingering cologne. And the aroma lasted all the way up the stairs.
    Claire’s door was shut, so I suspected she was putting her prim appearance back together after a quickie. A strong pang of jealousy hit and I headed back downstairs to grab some food to distract myself. Claire’s uneaten lunch wasn’t on the counter. Even though I knew I shouldn’t be angry about that—it was her lunch, after all—I was. But also, when I opened the fridge, the pan of leftover lasagna had disappeared. Had Claire fed it, and all of its protein, to Josh? Lasagna was my favorite. I checked the sink, the cupboards, even the garbage, but the pan wasn’t anywhere.
    I didn’t see it until I walked past Claire’s empty bedroomto go down for dinner later. I nudged open her door with my foot—just trying to see her room through Josh’s eyes for a second—and there on her dresser sat the empty pan.
    Even if he had a huge appetite, I found it hard to believe Josh could have eaten all of it. So Claire would only eat vegetables at the table with our parents, but she’d feast on meat and pasta all afternoon with sweet, wonderful Josh? Was her dinner-table eating all an act to one-up Mom? I don’t know why it got to me. Honestly, I wasn’t mad about missing out on a delicious after-school snack. I could probably use the calorie curb, but my whole body still heated up in a jealous rage.
    Why did Claire always get exactly what she wanted, and I couldn’t even seem to get the scraps?
    “Where’s the lasagna?” I said pointedly to Mom across the dinner table. I looked over at Claire, too, but she kept her face in her cell phone.
    “Eat what I made you first, Loann,” Mom said, her eyes in the newspaper as she chewed a bite of potatoes. It used to be an unwritten rule that we spent dinnertimes focused on one another. Now I felt like I needed to bring