"Janie! Wake up," Mom yells up the stairs to me. I'm basically awake, just shifting around the bed trying not to let my thoughts fall back into nightmarish visions of Thatcher and Paige together, so I roll out of bed, rub the sleepies from my eyes, and stand at my doorway.

"I'm up," I call back.

"Come down here right now," she scolds.

By the sound of it, I'm in big trouble, but I have no idea why. As I step down the stairs, I mentally comb through everything I've done in the past week, searching for some reason she might be furious with me on a Saturday morning, but nothing comes to mind. I followed the rules, I let her know where I was going to be and when, I didn't bomb any tests. Why am I getting the tone?

I turn down the steps and find my mom standing in the front doorway, looking outside at our stoop. Did I leave something there?

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Mom turns to face me and crosses her arms. "Take a look for yourself."

She steps out of the way, allowing me to walk onto the stoop and see what she's so upset about.

Traffic cones.

Everywhere.

There are five right on the stoop, one on each step and two on either side of the door, and there are at least ten more on the sidewalk in a weird zig zag pattern that some of the neighbor kids are running through like it's an obstacle course. One of the neighbors across the street is standing in her doorway, her hand gently resting on her chest as she watches from afar.

Why are all of these here?

"I think you're being bullied," Mom says behind me. I hear her take a sip of coffee while I continue to examine the alleged scene of the bullying crime. "Why else would someone put cones all over the front of our house?"

"Who would do this, though?" I ask, my eyes beginning to well up.

"Gina? Who else? Are there any other people who dislike you?"

Paige maybe, I think, but just in case I'm wrong about her and she doesn't like Thatcher still, I don't want to give my mom any ammunition against the people in my theater classes. I don't want another course change incident.

"I don't think so. Mom, what do we do with all of these cones?"

My phone rings, and it's only now that I remember I'm holding it. I check the caller ID and see it's Thatcher.

"Hey Thatcher, I can't talk right now. There's a thing happening outside my house."

"Let me guess: cones?" he asks.

"How'd you know?"

"They're outside my house too. Like, twenty of them," he says with a laugh.

I turn to my mom and breathe a sigh of relief. "Thatcher has cones outside of his house too."

"Why?" Mom asks. She is clearly not relieved yet.

I shrug. "Why do you think we both have cones outside our houses?" I ask Thatcher.

"I don't know, but my brothers are already taking them out back to do something with them, who knows."

"Ugh, they can take mine too."

I hear a beep and check my screen. Patti is calling.

"Hold on," I tell him, "Patti is calling."

"OK, call me back. Love you."

I turn back to make sure my mom is a safe distance away and whisper into the phone, "Love you too," before accepting Patti's call.

"Hey Patti," I answer.

She's laughing on the other end. "Did you get coned too?"

"Yeah, so did Thatcher. What's going on?"

"It's a tradition that the Ensemble Theater Company does to new members after the first week. Isn't it hilarious?"

"Sure," I say, glancing back at my very clearly unamused mother.

"There are probably, like, fifty cones lining my front walk and spelling out my name on the lawn."

"Oh wow, you got a fancy design. I just got zig zags."

"Different senior members cone each house. It's a late night thing they do. Oh my goodness, I can't wait until we can do that too. I love Ensemble. I just wish I could stay this whole year."

"You could," I offer.

"No, I couldn't. I have to chase after my dreams, Janie. But anyways, you're going to Sean's tonight, right?"

"Yeah, aren't the four of us going together?" I ask.

"Yes... four of us. Not five. I definitely didn't invite Paige."

"Patti...."

"OK, I did, but that was before I found out she lied to me about telling you about Thatcher. I can tell her she needs a different ride."

"No, it's OK. Thatcher and I can go together and you two and Moth can go." As long as Thatcher is with me, I think.

"OK, sounds good. Well, anyways, you can bring the cones back to his house and put them out on his lawn if you want. Some people do that and some people keep the cones for next year's coning or if there are any new arrivals during the year. It's up to you. I'm going to take mine back and cone Sean's house."

"I'll think about it," I say, watching the neighborhood kids trying to ride their bikes through the cones now. I smile. "See you tonight."

"See you then. Byeeee," she sings before hanging up.

"So," Mom starts, "the cones?"

"It's part of a tradition that the seniors do to welcome new juniors into Ensemble Theater Company. I can bring them back to this guy Sean's house tonight when we go to the party."

"Yes, please. Clean them up before they cause any more attention on the street."

"I will," I say.

"Right now."

"Got it."

"And Janie?"

"Yeah?" I say before closing the front door behind me so I can clean up the cones.

"No more antics like this with the theater program, OK? That really frightened me. I thought you were being targeted."

"Got it, I will tell them," I say, and Mom nods and turns back toward the kitchen to finish her coffee.

I shut the door behind me and take a seat on my front step to call Thatcher back. The phone rings on my end, but I hear Thatcher's ringtone go off nearby. I look up to check the street for my boyfriend, and there he is walking down the street toward me with a big smile and another one of his elbow patch sleeve sweaters.

I hang up with a smile.

"Hey you," I say. "You don't happen to need about fifteen traffic cones, do you?"

"You know, it's the darndest thing. I just happen to come into possession of quite a few traffic cones, myself. Excuse me," he says to the kids riding their bikes.

"Hey kids, we're going to clean these up," I tell them, and they groan in disappointment.

"Can we take a few?" one of the kids ask.

I shrug, but Thatcher says, "Well, technically it is a crime to take these, so I wouldn't, buddy."

"Really?" I ask. My heart momentarily stops, I swear. A crime? We've got to get these out of here.

The kids drive away, and Thatcher takes a seat beside me on the step. "Yeah, actually. My dad got really pissed about all the cones and told me, so I looked it up. Ready for this nerdiness?"

I smile and nod. "Always."

"According to section 1 of the 1968 Theft Act, whoever put these here could serve up to seven years for their thievery."

"OK, so what did you do with your cones?"

"Oh, my brothers and I hid them in my shed, obviously."

I laugh and he wraps his arm around me before kissing my head.

"I'm guessing that won't fly in the Myers/Collins house, though."

"If my mom finds out it's a crime, I think she might murder me."

"Well, I'd rather that not happen," he jokes, "so maybe we should clear these out of here."

"And put them where?"

He shrugs. "I could fit some more in my shed if you're up for illegally crossing property lines in your backyard to get them to mine."

"So now we're cone smugglers?"

"Shh, not so loud. This is a secret operation."

I laugh. Even though it's a beautiful early autumn day, the warmth I'm feeling comes straight from my love for Thatcher. He cups my face in his hand and leans in to kiss me, making me feel like the only girl in the universe.

"I love you," I tell him. "You make me feel so special."

"It's easy to do that when you are the most special person to me."

I kiss him back, and we stay there for a little while in our own world before we deal with the felony on my doorstep. Even covering up crimes is better with Thatcher.

Later that day, Thatcher picks me up for Sean's party. I've changed out of my pajamas from earlier obviously, and now I wear a yellow sundress with a white cardigan over it since September doesn't seem to know it's a fall month and is still giving us summer temperatures. Even though Thatcher and I have been dating for a while, I still like to see the look on his face when he sees me looking dressed up. It makes me feel pretty, which I definitely need tonight, since Paige will be at the party too. I don't doubt for a second that her very presence will bring down my mood, because why would she lie to Patti unless there was something she was hiding, right? But if I have Thatcher and I feel confident about myself, I think I will still enjoy myself.

"I'll text you when we get there. OK Mom?"

"OK, have fun," she says as she closes the door behind me. "No drinking or having sex or doing drugs."

She says this loud enough that probably the whole street heard, but loud enough that Thatcher most definitely did with his windows rolled down.

"I'll take care of her, I promise Ms. Collins."

"OK. I know where you live if you don't. Just kidding. But not really."

My mom is so embarrassing, but luckily Thatcher is used to her, so instead of giving me time to yell at her to stop, Thatcher simply laughs and says, "I would expect nothing less. I promise we will be safe, though."

"OK, have fun," she calls again.

"Bye Mom."

"OK, OK, bye," she says, closing the door as I step into Thatcher's beat up old car, which somehow looks worse every time I see it. A blanket is draped over the back seat, with lots of bumps in it, like maybe we are smuggling his brothers to the party or something. But I know what is under the blankets.

"Oh my goodness, Thatcher Gorsky, are you taking our smuggling operation to the next level?" I ask.

He smiles and once he's sure my mom isn't looking, he lifts one side of the blanket up to reveal a small stack of cones on its side in the back.

"We're going to cone Sean's yard," he whispers.

"You're devilish," I joke, but then a thought creeps into my mind. "What if we get stopped by a cop again and go to jail?"

"Then we will Bonnie and Clyde it and run off," he says, raising his eyebrows. He's joking, but I'm sort of serious. Thanks Mom for constantly making me paranoid about everything, I think.

He puts the car into drive. "We will be fine," he says seriously. "As long as we aren't loitering, I think we'll be OK."

I laugh. "Seriously."

He pulls out of the space in front of my house and we head to Sean's party. "There will be alcohol at the party, by the way. Just letting you know," Thatcher says. "Moth texted me that his older sister got him some stuff from the liquor store to bring."

"Really? Are you going to drink?"

That's something that is so out of Thatcher's character in my head, but maybe there are still things I don't know about him.

"No way, I'm driving. I'd suggest you don't either unless you want your mom to find me and kill me."
I laugh. "No, I won't. I honestly have no desire to drink."

"Me either, really. But maybe sometime before college would be a good idea. I just wanted to prep you. This is, like, a real high school party, like the ones in movies. We may be theater nerds, but from what I've heard, those seniors know how to party."

I swallow hard. A real high school party? Illegal cones in the back seat? Underage drinking? All of the sudden, this cute little dress isn't working to give me confidence anymore.