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I failedmy first anatomy exam. Unless some miracle occurred, there’s no way that I passed.

Heather is also certain that she failed. She is moping around our apartment, half in tears.

“I studied so hard,” she keeps saying. “I must just be an idiot.”

Heather definitely isn’t the brightest penny in the fountain. Frankly, she’d probably benefit from offering a few professors some action on the side. But no, she’d never do it. She’s not that type of girl.

“Maybe you should go take a shower?” I suggest because I can’t stand it another minute. And I know Heather loves showering. She takes at least two or three of them every day.

“Yeah…” she mumbles. And then, thankfully, she disappears into the bathroom.

Of course, the second the shower turns on in the bathroom, someone knocks on the door. I try to ignore it, figuring it can’t be anyone for me, but the knocker is too persistent. Finally, I trudge over to the door and throw it open. It’s Abe—big surprise.

“Oh, hey, Rachel,” he says. “Is Heather home?”

Abe has the biggest crush in the world on Heather. Everyone knows it except her. He follows her around school like an extremely large puppy dog, saving her every time she needs it (which is all the freaking time). Abe seems like a nice enough guy, but the way he acts around Heather seriously gets on my nerves.

“She’s in the shower,” I tell him.

“Oh,” Abe says.

He doesn’t move. Am I supposed to invite him inside? I really don’t want to. Why can’t they go to Abe’s room to study instead of hanging out here all the time? (I suspect the answer to that question is that Abe and Mason’s apartment is a pigsty.)

“Listen,” I say to Abe. “You know that Heather has a boyfriend, right?”

His cheeks color. “Yeah, I know that.”

And then I add, for good measure, “And even if she didn’t, you wouldn’t have a chance.”

Abe stares at me like I just punched him in the face. He lowers his eyes and mumbles, “Yeah, I know. Of course. I mean, I’d never think that…” He clears his throat. “Um, I’m going to go. You can… maybe just tell Heather I stopped by.”

“Sure thing,” I say, and I slam the door in his face.

Was that a bitchy thing to do? Maybe it was. But seriously, somebody needed to tell that guy the truth. I did him a favor.

I go back to the bedroom and get on my computer. I check my email, and there’s a message waiting for me from Dr. Conlon: “Please come see me after class tomorrow.”

Ah, the “come see me” note. Always the start of something interesting.