Shannon puts the studs back in her jewelry box, this massive antique thing her parents bought her for getting a five on the AP U.S. History exam. Half her room is filled with little trophies like that—a Kate Spade bag for her first all-A report card, a fancy ballerina painting for landing the principal role in her fifth-grade recital, a pair of Louboutins from when her team came in first in Model UN. To her credit, Shannon always shares—diamond studs, pricey makeup, and even the fancy barrette I’m wearing to hold my curls off my face.

“I bet your date will look classy,” Shannon says, sweeping a minuscule clump of mascara from her otherwise perfect lashes.

I snort. “By date do you mean the podcast app on her phone?”

The other three girls exchange glances. “Pretty sure she means her actual date,” says Gia, carefully rubbing the liquid highlighter onto her browbones.

“I’m sorry, what?” I cross my arms over my chest, the pink sequins that cover the strapless bodice digging into my skin. “Since when do you, Akiko Takayama, have a date? And how am I only hearing this five seconds before we get into the limo?”

“It’s no big deal, drama queen,” she says with a snort. “I’m going with Jasmine.”

Hmm, I thought my hearing was OK, but it’s clear something is malfunctioning, because there’s no way that I was just informed on the night of the dance that Jasmine Killary is going to be in my limo as one of my best friends’ dates. “I’m sorry, you’re going with who?”

There’s a collective whoosh of air intake as both Shannon and Gia suck in their breath. “Wow, Lar,” says Gia, flicking an imaginary piece of dust from her silver cocktail dress, “it’s the twenty-first century. This is really not a big deal.”

It takes me a few seconds to realize that Gia fucking Peretti is giving me a lecture on homophobia, and this is all so twisted and ridiculous that I could die. Next to her, Shannon is shaking her head in similar disbelief and it takes everything in me not to scream.

How is this my life?

I exhale sharply and clap my hands together. “Okay, let’s try this again. Kiki! I am very happy for you that you have a date! And it’s cool that it’s a girl! I just don’t understand how the fact that you have a date—of any gender—somehow did not come up before now. With me, at least.”

She shrugs. “It was kind of last minute, but she wasn’t going with anyone, and I was gonna be seventh-wheeling with you guys anyway, so.”

“Great,” I manage through gritted teeth.