This wasn’t about the dance. This was the school trying to show how bad they felt about Brandon. Mateo hadn’t bothered to vote for homecoming court, but he bet his name and Maria’s had been the only ones on the damn ballot sheet.

It would’ve been Delilah if it hadn’t been for the drugs and the coma, but with the queen bee out of commission, they’d gone with the girl who’d put her there. Because Maria was the next-best thing, and besides, everyone thought Maria and Brandon had been BEST FRIENDS FOREVER OMG.

Brandon was more popular than he’d ever been. Girls were wiping invisible tears. Even the guys who’d spent the past three years whispering F.F. (for “Fat Fag”) to one another whenever Brandon passed them in the locker room were bowing their heads somberly tonight.

This whole school was one giant waste of space.

They were only a couple of seconds into the moment of goddamn silence, and Mateo was waiting for the dean to lead them in a rousing sing-along of “Kumbaya,” when the power went out. A few girls gasped. Behind them, the dean gave a start.

The background generator lights flicked on, casting a dim glow over the tiny, stuffy room. The ballroom was on the second floor of the main house, but it never got used except for homecoming and prom and the big reception for alumni donors every spring. There was just enough light in the room for Mateo to see the faces of everyone he hated.

The worst of them all, Maria, wasn’t bothering to cry. He was thankful for that. He couldn’t stand to see insincere tears in those dark brown eyes. To see her pretending she’d ever given a crap about Brandon.

He couldn’t stand to see her there at all, looking so fake and so pretty in her little black dress. She’d probably picked it to match the color of her goddamn soul.

In the front row, Lily was sobbing. Caitlin and Emily stood on either side of her, rubbing her back, dabbing at their cheeks.

The room was full of girls just like them. Guys too. Wearing the fancy clothes their parents had bought them, their hair coiffed and their eyes fixed on their shoes, wondering how long they had to keep acting solemn. Acting like they cared about a guy they’d have hardly given the time of day if Princess Maria hadn’t made them.

At the back of the room Kei and Ryan were standing by the punch bowl, passing a phone back and forth between them. Watching football? Texting townie girls? Playing Candy Drop? Well, at least they weren’t putting on an act like the rest of these failures.