“I know you’re in there, Mercedes,” Faye says. “I can see your dirty Converse shoes. You really should get a new pair.”“Did you see it?” I croak. “If you saw it, you probably saw a lot more of me. You probably shouldn’t be seen talking to me. And I should probably switch schools.”“That’s the thing,” Faye says, stopping right outside the stall door and rapping on the metal with her fist.“What’s the thing?” I say, pushing my shoe against the toilet paper dispenser, making no move to let her in.“I never was any good at doing what people tell me.”And like that, her head appears under the stall door, followed by her body. She pulls herself in and wipes her hands on her jeans.I raise my eyebrows. “You know how disgusting that floor is?” I say. “Janitorial service at this school leaves a lot to be desired.”She cocks her head and puts her hands on her hips. She looks like what I imagine a stern parent would look like, not that I know from experience. I wonder if she got that posture from Lydia.“First of all, you didn’t let me in, so I had no choice.”