The shower in my dorm room has two nozzles. One sprays water, the other, a slippery gel that foams on contact with my skin, leaving me moisturized, but tingles long after I’m finished rinsing. Even the towels are scented, tangy like a pricklefruit. I pull on dark blue pants and a matching suit, and rough up my black hair until it settles in place. The mirror is still foggy, but I can make out enough of my reflection.

Eh.

I guess I look fine.

Eat and leave. That’s my plan. We aren’t required to attend the dance, and I have no reason to. Why should I stand alone in crowd of people who barely know each other to begin with, let alone dance? That’s bound to be all sorts of awkward, and I’m not going to be caught in the middle of it.

The hall is empty when I walk out. Of course I’d be the first one. I should’ve waited until I heard someone else.

It isn’t long until John’s door opens. He’s wearing a dark green suit and looks like he dunked his whole head in the shower gel instead of rinsing with it. His face shines like plastic and his hair bounces in place, curling at the tips. He looks so greasy. Is he trying to make all the girls avoid him at this dance? He needs all the help he can get.

Michael comes out of his room next. He’s wearing a black vest and a matching necktie, and his hair is combed so that it flares upward at the front. He looks good—handsome, even—but he seems just as uncomfortable as me. He shouldn’t be nervous, though. The girls will be looking at him all night.

A third door shuts behind me. I shoot a quick glance and see Glacia looking right back at me. I turn my head down, scratch the side of my head and act like I wasn’t paying attention. But I saw too much of her, and my eyes strain to look up and suck up more of the sight they saw. The glimpse I caught was—admittedly—nice to look at.

I casually let my gaze wander up, hoping it’s not too obvious what I’m doing. I rarely look at anyone, especially her. All high-and-mighty Glacia Haverns who strutted down the halls of Secondary, thumbs slipped under the straps of her backpack and a smug little smile on her face. People always gawked and whispered, and she’d pretend not to notice.