“No, I’m exhausted,” I say. “I’m just going to check e-mail and go to bed.”

“You would feel better if you got things off your chest.”

“Really,” I insist. “I’m fine.”

I can tell she isn’t satisfied. Maybe if she were just in parent mode I would talk to her, work through things rationally. But I’m in no mood to unload my issues—especially not on Super-Therapist Mom.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” She smiles big, in a way that means she thinks she has a fabulous idea. “Why don’t we have a mother-daughter day? We could go to the village and browse the little shops and have sundaes at the ice cream parlor.”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ve go so much going on—”

“You can’t run and do schoolwork all the time.” She brushes a loose lock of hair off my face. “How about Saturday? It might be tough, but I’ll clear my hectic schedule.”

For a second, it’s like the old Mom and Phoebe are back. She’s joking with me and I’m rolling my eyes at her corny humor. Maybe it would be good to spend some time together. Besides, I haven’t seen the village yet, except for from the dock. Who knows, it could actually have a cool shop or two. I could get souvenirs for Nola and Cesca.

“Sure,” I say. “Saturday.”

With a quick wave, I leave her alone in my room and retreat to Damian’s study and my electronic connection to the civilized world.

I click open my e-mail. The little smiley faces next to Cesca and Nola’s e-mail addys are bright yellow. They’re online!

Two mouse clicks later I have my IM open.

LostPhoebe: hi!!!

GranolaGrrl: Phoebe!

PrincessCesca: finally! been waiting online all day

GranolaGrrl: no we haven’t

LostPhoebe: glad ur here

LostPhoebe: did you get my e-mail?

PrincessCesca: of course

GranolaGrrl: things can’t be bad as you think

GranolaGrrl: nothing ever is

PrincessCesca: have you been to the beach yet?

LostPhoebe: just for a quick run

GranolaGrrl: I bet they’re polluted anyway GranolaGrrl: all those years of combustion powerboats cruising the Mediterranean

PrincessCesca: ignore enviro-freak

PrincessCesca: dish on the guy scene

GranolaGrrl: <insulted>

LostPhoebe: well there are a couple of really cute guys

GranolaGrrl: I resent being labeled an enviro-freak

PrincessCesca: which one is taking you to homecoming?

GranolaGrrl: I prefer to be called environmentally active

LostPhoebe: I don’t think they have a homecoming

LostPhoebe: besides, one of them already hates me

GranolaGrrl: hate is the mirror of love

PrincessCesca: what about the other guy?

I pause, thinking about Troy. He’s cute. And nice. And a good

friend. And nice. And thoughtful. And nice. Sigh. Nice is not necessarily boyfriend material. Not even crush material. At least not for me.

LostPhoebe: Troy is just a friend

GranolaGrrl: boy friends make the best boyfriends

PrincessCesca: <rolls eyes> what about the other?

LostPhoebe: the one that hates me?

GranolaGrrl: he doesn’t hate you

PrincessCesca: yes, him

What can I say about Griffin Blake?

That he zapped my shoelaces together? Oops, can’t reveal the whole secret-island-of-the-Greek-gods thing.

That he makes Orlando look like a Troll? Nope, that would give away too much of my unwanted interest in him—why do I always crush on jerks?

That I’ve been commissioned by my evil stepsister to break up him and his girlfriend? Stella is the last thing I want to chat about. Besides, that leads me down the path of thoughts about my real reason for accepting her deal—something to do with how my heart pounds like a bongo every time I see him—and those are thoughts best left unexplored.

Somehow, none of these seem appropriate.

LostPhoebe: nothing to tell

LostPhoebe: promise

PrincessCesca: you only promise when ur keeping a secret

GranolaGrrl: we should respect her privacy

PrincessCesca: for crying out loud PrincessCesca: don’t you want to know about the guy our best friend is crushing on?

GranolaGrrl: of course, but that doesn’t mean we have to pry

LostPhoebe: I’m not crushing on him

PrincessCesca: yes it does

PrincessCesca: that’s exactly what it means

GranolaGrrl: she has a right to her privacy

PrincessCesca: she has to tell us, we’re her best friends

LostPhoebe: stop!!!

The rapid-fire IMs stop. I stare at the blinking cursor, thinking how much I miss hearing them argue in person. It’s just not the same on the computer. The scrolling IM chat is making me dizzy.

GranolaGrrl: are you all right?

LostPhoebe: why does everyone keep asking me that?

PrincessCesca: well are you?

LostPhoebe: I’m fine

LostPhoebe: it’s late and I’m tired

GranolaGrrl: you should get your rest

PrincessCesca: what time is it there?

I check the clock on the computer. It’s after eleven. Crap, I have to meet Coach Lenny at six.

LostPhoebe: almost 11:15 and I have to get up early

GranolaGrrl: we’ll let you get some sleep

PrincessCesca: but don’t think we’re letting this crush thing go

LostPhoebe: thanks

LostPhoebe: I miss you guys

GranolaGrrl: we miss you, too

PrincessCesca: PacificPark is the pits without you