“Me first! Me first!” Chloe said.

She would obviously be first. She was the born leader of the group, and, well, it was her house.

“Iris!” she said enthusiastically, pointing at me. “Truth or dare.”

I knew she was just dying to ask me about Merit, so I grinned at her devilishly. “Dare!”

She sighed. “You are the worst.”

“I know.”

She paused for a minute. “Okay. I dare you to go downstairs and sneak a bottle of wine from my parents’ party.”

My eyes widened. “Chloe, I can’t do that. My mom would kill me if I got in trouble.”

“So don’t get caught,” she said nonchalantly.

I glanced over at Dabney, who shrugged. “Can I be her wingwoman?”

Chloe thought for a minute. “I’ll allow it!” she said.

Dabney and I scrambled up, giggling.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll create a diversion for the parents.”

I nodded. “I think my best bet is grabbing a bottle out of one of the cases behind the bar,” I whispered as we walked down the back steps, which were covered in a cool antelope pattern.

“Can you just make sure it’s a rosé or champagne or something?” Dabney asked. “I hate red wine.”

“Sure, Dab. Any vintage requests while I’m stealing alcohol?”

She smiled as she walked into the kitchen, where eight adults were mingling as a bartender stood behind the bar flanked by various bottles.

“Mrs. Montoya,” Dabney said loudly, “I wanted to see if I could practice my solo in the school play for all of you.” She smiled so sweetly.

I couldn’t help but laugh as Mrs. Montoya sputtered, “Oh, um, sure. Why, of course, Dabney.”

I mean, what was she going to say, really? I looked at the bartender and shook my head. “You might want to go refill them if she’s going to sing,” I whispered. He gave me a knowing look and picked up a bottle of red and a bottle of white, stepping from behind the bar.

All eyes were on Dabney as she belted out, “Moonlight, all alone on the pavement!”

I grabbed a bottle of champagne quick as a wink and was on the back staircase before anyone even glanced my way. I was stifling my laughter—because in what world was Dabney in a production of Cats? She did have a gorgeous voice, though. Her mom made her sing in the church choir, and she hated it, but she was good.

A few minutes later, she appeared in the playroom, and Chloe and I clapped.

“Thank you, thank you,” she said.

We looked at the bottle of champagne. We’d all had a few sips of alcohol here and there, but that was the extent of it. “So, are we opening it?” I asked, suddenly filled with anticipation.

“Do you know how?” Dabney asked.

I shook my head.