how they felt about the dance, if a girl asking a guy to a dance was even that big of a core-shaker anymore. And I know some girls are making it a girlsâ night, so that would be interesting to include too.â
Core-shaker? I mouthed to her across the table. Wren pretended not to notice so she wouldnât lose face with Piper, whotook the yearbookâs theme, âOn the Edge,â seriously. The faculty had given us some trouble, thinking it sounded neurotic or like some veiled drug reference. Piper assured them âOn the Edgeâ was positive and meant being on the forefront. I didnât always understand Piperâs vision, but the challenge of figuring it out was kind of fun.
âCool. I like it. Have it to me the following Wednesday after the dance, right? Jazz, where are we on the Fathersâ Club layout?â
âUm, well . . . weâre . . . Piper, I have no clue what Iâm doing with it yet. Not sure how to make the Fathersâ Club edgy. All I have so far is the fall bowl-a-thon and sponsoring Toys for Tots.â
Piper knocked on the table. âAnyone have any ideas?â
Silence. I went back to working on my mehndi designâbrainstorming about fathers was something I could thankfully be excluded from. There was a time when it might have made me feel awkward, but Iâd grown out of it. When I was in third grade, my mother had explained it very matter-of-factlyâmy biological father was far out of the picture by the time she realized she was pregnant with me. He hadnât been the right person, but it was the right time and there was never a doubt in her mind that she wanted me .
Itâs not like I never wondered if he was out there, somewhere . . . but itâs not like I had a gaping hole in my life either. Mom and I were fine; besides, when Wren had sleepovers Ilived vicariously with Mr. Caswell doling out Sunday-morning banana pancakes or dousing us with the hose when we sunbathed in the yard. I mean, who wanted to go to some lame-ass fall bowl-a-thon anyhow? Puh-lease.
âWell, we have time to figure out how to make bowling edgy,â she said, smiling and moving on to another Post-it.
âSo you guys are really going to Sadie Hawkins, right?â Wren asked as we walked to our lockers after the meeting.
âIf it involves me asking someone, then no,â Jazz said.
âCome on, Zach canââ I began.
âYou donât need to find me anyone, okay?â She dropped her chem book to the floor and muttered under her breath. Wren and I exchanged puzzled looks.
âWhatâs wrong?â I asked, crouching down to pick up the book.
Jazz took the book from my hand and slid it onto the top shelf of her locker. âNothing, I just hate being put on the spot like that. This âOn the Edgeâ thing is hard.â
âYes, but one more year, and then weâll be running the book. And we can come up with a normal theme but nothing banal ,â Wren said, mimicking a Piper hair flip with a smile.
âYou donât usually get so upset at this stuff,â I said.
âThe meeting ran late and I was supposed to . . . I just missed my run, thatâs all,â she said, grabbing her coat.
âDonât you usually run with your dad at night?â Wren asked.
Jazz leaned against her locker and frowned. She looked between us.
âI really didnât want to talk about it yet. Itâs so new andââ
âOmigod, just spit it out, Jazzy,â I said.
âThere is someone I wanted to ask to the dance.â
âGreat!â Wren said.
âNo, not greatâheâs already going with someone.â
âWho?â
âDarby Greene.â
âNo, who were you going to ask?â I was not about to let her off the hook. This was too juicy a development on an otherwise completely boring Wednesday afternoon.
âThis guy Iâve been running with.â
I motioned for her to