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Gaia and Jake. Kissing. Gaia and Jake kissing across a table in the middle of Starbucks like the happiest teenage lovers in the worst kind of movie.

It was like they were one of those couples whose names had become one word at school:
Are Jake-and-Gaia coming? Hey, did you guys go to Jake-and-Gaia's party last night?
It was making Ed feel unexpectedly ill.

But that really wasn't any of Ed's business anymore, was it? No, that really had nothing to do with Ed in the least.

And why the hell do you care?
Ed hollered internally as Kai continued to read out options from
The Village Voice. You
don't
care, Ed. You don't give a crap. That's Gaia's life over there. This is your life over here. You and Kai. Making plans. For Christ's sake,
you're
the one who finally called things off with her, remember?

Of course he remembered. This was just a freak momentary lapse in sanity, that's all—little moldy leftovers of the kind of jealousy Ed didn't even feel anymore. Gaia deserved to be happy, and so did Ed. And clearly there was no way they could be happy with each other. Gaia's life was just too freaking insane.

Too freaking dangerous.

There was never an ounce of peace in her life, so how could there be an ounce of peace in her relationships? It was impossible. There was always some massive tragedy just around the corner—always some giant horrific detail Gaia was neglecting to mention. A man could not be happy while attached to Gaia Moore. Period.

So what the hell are she and Jake doing in
7th Heaven
over there?

“ . . . at the Knitting Factory?”

Ed had missed something. Kai's inflections suggested she'd asked a question.

But what the hell was the question?

“Ed? Hel-
lo
?”

Ed whipped his head back toward Kai and hit her
with a good strong dose of eye contact. “What? Yes,” he said blankly. “I mean,
hell,
yes, the Knitting Factory. Definitely.”

Kai tilted her head and leaned in closer. Her hair was done up in so many pigtails, she looked like a porcupine. “That's what you want to do?” she asked dubiously.

Ed wished he had any idea what they were talking about. He could think of nothing else but to widen his smile and agree. “Yeah.” He nodded emphatically. “I love the Knitting Factory.”

“Huh . . . ,” Kai uttered, maintaining her perma-smile. “I didn't know you were into Christian heavy metal. . . . ”

“What?” Ed blurted far too loudly. “Christian heavy—?”

“Where
are
you, Ed?” she groaned. Her smile stayed firm, but Ed could locate true frustration in the corners of her mouth. “You're not listening. Where
are
you today?”

“No, I
am
,” Ed insisted. “I'm totally listening.” His eyes darted one last time toward Gaia and Jake's table. Jake was backing away toward the plate-glass doors with the most over-the-top star-crossed-lover gleam in his eye. And Gaia was gazing back at him with a look to match. Ed felt his stomach kick, and then he snapped his eyes back toward Kai, wishing very much that he'd resisted the second look. Because she'd caught him looking.

And Ed could see the hurt just barely registering in Kai's eyes.

Say something, Ed. Say something fast. Keep the conversation going.

“What about Luna Lounge?” he asked, far too brightly. “Who's playing at Luna tonight?”

Kai didn't respond. Her eyes dropped down momentarily to her lap as her glittering eye shadow reflected the fluorescent lights.

Don't be mad,
Ed begged silently.
Please don't be mad. I didn't even mean to look over there. I don't even care what's going on over there.

“Kai?” He tried to sound as matter-of-fact as possible. “How about Luna?”

Kai took a short breath and then took hold of Ed's hand. It was a most unexpected public display of affection. “You know . . . ,” she began slowly, “I have a better idea for tonight.”

“Um . . . okay,” Ed replied cautiously. He wasn't sure what to make of this particular touch of her hand. But he knew something was different. He knew that in that little moment, Kai had just made some kind of decision.

“How about no music?” Kai seemed to turn on the high beams in her dark brown eyes. “No music, no movie, no X-treme skating event. How about tonight we do something more . . . romantic?”

Ed felt a slight hitch in his throat. Hadn't they sort of been through that approach already? They had tried making things more romantic, but Ed just wasn't quite
up to that level yet. Not that Kai wasn't adorably sexy. Not that he didn't love spending all this time with her. Not that they wouldn't probably get extremely romantic sometime very soon, but right now, fooling around with Kai was still kind of awkward.

So how exactly was he supposed to deal with being put on the spot like this?

“Well . . . ”
Uh-huh. Good start, Fargo. Smooth.
“I, uh . . . I mean, I think . . . ” The longer he stammered, the more he could see Kai's smile beginning to fade ever so slightly.

Don't ruin this, Ed. Kai is awesome. She's hot, she's funny, she's different. She can freaking
skate,
for God's sake. Do not screw this up.
“I think—”

“Checkmate!”

Ed looked over at the chess game. It appeared that the blond boy, whoever he was—Ed had never seen him before—had won. The other boy was sullenly knocking over his own queen. Ed could see only a couple of his pieces remaining on the chessboard.

“Wow—that was so
cool!
” Tannie Deegan squealed reverently. Ed realized that the Friends of Heather had formed an admiring clump behind this young chess genius—and they were all applauding.

And he realized something else as his gaze flicked uncontrollably over to Gaia (and Kai caught him doing it again). Gaia was interested. She was watching.

“Who's next?” The blond boy had started restoring the pieces on the chessboard. “Come on—who's next?
Is there anyone here who can play chess?”

“I'll play! I'll play!” Laura yelled. She was bouncing on her toes with excitement.

The blond chess wizard shook his head condescendingly. “I meant, can anyone here
actually
play chess?”

“Ed?” Kai was asking. She was moving her head around, trying to regain eye contact with him. “What were you saying?”

Gaia was standing up. Ed didn't want to look—he didn't want Kai to see him do it. But it was like he'd lost conscious control of his eye-balls. Gaia was hefting her book bag—and walking over to join the chess players.

“You think what?” Kai was asking. “Ed?”

“Hmmm?” Ed could read Kai's annoyance. “Sorry. I was just—they're playing chess over there,” he explained lamely.

“Do you want to go watch?”

“No, I—”

Kai's eyes darted up to meet Ed's. This time she didn't even bother hiding the hurt in her eyes.

“I have to go,” Kai said suddenly. She rose out of her chair.

“Wait a minute,” Ed complained. He shot up from the table and tried to get some solid eye contact back from Kai.
Make it better, Ed. Make it better fast.
“Wait, I want to talk about tonight,” he sort of lied. “I want to make a plan.”

“Sure, yeah, anything,” Kai said far too bouncily. “I
mean, I'm really up for whatever.”

Ed knew she was lying. And he wasn't particularly proud of himself for pretending to believe her. “Okay,” he said. “How about bowling?” He smiled. “Tonight? Bowlmor?”

Bowling. Very romantic, Ed.

“Bowling, sure,” Kai agreed, staring down at the floor. “I love bowling.”

Kai rammed the double doors open with her butt and disappeared without a good-bye or another glance in Ed's direction.

Follow her, asshole,
Ed told himself.
Now's the part where you're supposed to follow her.

Ed sank back into his wooden chair. He picked up his forgotten grande mocha, which was now room temperature.

He should have just gone after Kai and set things straight.

He really should have.

Queen of Toothpaste

“I CAN PLAY,” GAIA SAID.

She was standing in front of the wooden table where the blond boy had just
soundly defeated the other chess player. The loser had already sullenly shaken hands and left—Gaia saw him over to one side, throwing out his empty paper coffee cup.

The new boy looked up at her. Tannie and Laura and the others stood behind him, glaring at Gaia as if she'd barged into their private room at a country club.

I do believe I'm socializing,
Gaia thought dazedly.
Will wonders never cease?

Standing up, walking over, Gaia had realized that she was behaving strangely. But it felt good; there was no denying it. Jake's kiss was still tingling on her lips as she crossed the room, wondering what possible force of nature could have actually propelled her toward the Friends of Heather and their new boy toy. But strange or not, here she was.

Old Gaia would have buried her nose in her book and fiercely ignored the invitation to play chess. She had come very close to doing just that—it was only a sudden impulse that had made her answer the challenge.

“Can you play a
real
game?” the blond kid demanded. He was frowning sternly at her, as if he was done wasting his time with amateurs.

“Yeah,” Gaia said.

Without a word, the blond boy held out his two closed fists.

Gaia pointed at his left hand. He opened it up—it
contained a black pawn.

“Look at that,” he remarked bemusedly. “Already losing.”

“Do you want to talk,” Gaia asked pleasantly, “or do you want to play?”

The boy smiled and made a courteous gesture toward the empty chair facing him.

“The lesson begins,” the boy said, advancing the pawn in his king's file. The chess piece clicked against the board, a tiny warrior challenging its enemies.

Gaia didn't bother to speak. She advanced her queen's pawn two ranks.

“Can she do that?” Laura yelled out. “Wait, that's two squares.”

“Can't you all go to a shoe store or something?” Gaia asked the Friends of Heather. One move into this game, she was realizing how long it had been since she'd played. She honestly wasn't sure how she would do. “We're concentrating.”

Laura glared at Gaia, as if the idea of a girl concentrating on anything besides oatmeal-and-apricot-based facial rinse was unthinkable. “Gaia,” she began in her coldest voice, “not like we'd expect you to understand this, but even the most basic social interaction begins with—”

“It's
her,
” Megan interrupted. Her perfectly applied mascara fluttered as she stared over Gaia's head at the door to Starbucks. “Oh my
God
—it's her. It's totally her.”

Gaia's opponent had made a move. He had brought his queen's bishop out. And she had missed it. It was very annoying.

“It
is
her—oh my
God,
” Laura confirmed.

Gaia was staring at the white bishop, but the question distracted her. Who could possibly warrant such a reverent response from the world's most irreverent bitches? Some meaningless Mandy Moore-type celebrity?

Gaia turned her head and followed the FOHs' gaze.

The girl who had just breezed through the glass doors of Starbucks was no celebrity. Gaia was almost sure of it. She just walked like one.

Everything about this girl had the
shine
of a celebrity—her angular cream-colored face, her near floor-length buttery leather coat, the perfect golden highlights of her hair that could only be obtained from the salons on Fifty-seventh Street; even her catlike tortoiseshell glasses that sat halfway down her elegant nose, attached to a platinum chain that wrapped around her neck. Everything about her was just . . . perfect. Repulsively, hideously, and disgustingly perfect.

“Oh,
Jesus,”
Gaia murmured, turning back to the chessboard and making her move.

“What is your problem now?” Megan complained, taking a break from gawking to give Gaia the evil eye. “Gaia, would you like to purchase a clue? Do you even
know who that
is
?”

“No, thank God, I don't,” Gaia told Megan.
Can't you all just go away?
she thought furiously, watching as Mr. Blond Chess Demon brought out a knight—clearly preparing to castle.

“You will lose this game,” Gaia's opponent informed her in his smooth, charming voice, “unless you start paying attention.”

“No trash talking,” Gaia said, advancing a pawn—not the strongest move she could make, but one that would at least disguise her overall intentions. Meanwhile, she let her eyes drift slightly to the side and watched the girl float up to the counter and order something that surely had a six- or seven-word title—some nonfat, half-soy, double-foam, ten-dollar cup of flavored water.

“That is Elizabeth Rodke,” Megan stated. She sounded like she was announcing royalty. “She and her brother have just enrolled at our school.”

“Well, three cheers for them,” Gaia muttered.

“Okay, I suppose you've never even heard of the Rodke family,” Laura said.

“The
who
-key family?”

“Rodke?” Tannie said, staring at Gaia like she was mentally challenged. “As in Rodke and Simon? As in they make just about everything you buy at Duane Reade? Aspirin, soap, shampoo, toothpaste . . . ?”

Gaia's opponent was thoughtfully scratching his
chin, grinning privately as he considered his next move. Gaia raised her face and stared directly at the Friends of Heather. Enough, she had decided, was really enough.