I don’t know where all this anger is coming from, but that’s only one of my many questions here. “What do you mean, ‘take her down’? How much further down can she go? She hasn’t gotten her own cheer, she was iced out at the pep rally, and she wasn’t invited to the victory party.” Just listing the slights makes me sick to my stomach, thinking of how cruel it all is, for what? For Jack’s daring to be a girl? Even if I weren’t into her, I’d recognize that this was tremendously shitty.

So why doesn’t Cara? And why don’t the others?

Am I being soft because I have a crush on Jack? Or is this group of girls I’m supposed to be closer with than anyone actually being as horrible as I think they are?

“Oh please—that’s nothing. She couldn’t have expected we were just gonna act like she and Robbie are the same. But she doesn’t seem to be getting the hint that we don’t want her here, and homecoming is the perfect time to make that clear.”

Homecoming. Shit. Of course. The team is away again this weekend, but the week after that is one of the biggest weeks at Atherton; we’ve already been doing lots of planning for the game, the dance, and various school spirit events that’ll be happening the week leading up to it.

I just hadn’t factored “ruin Jack’s life” into the already packed calendar.

“So, are you in, or what?”

I look down at Cara, who’s striking a fierce pose with her hands on her hips and her hair in a tight bun. I don’t have to glance around the room to realize it’s quieted down. People are watching us, and what’s more, no one’s asking what’s going on, which means this isn’t a new conversation for Cara—she’s been peddling a plan around.

A plan everyone must be on board with.

A plan that’s going to make her look like a leader.

A captain, even.

You don’t have to help them, I tell myself. You just need to know what’s going on so you can get everyone to chill out. It’s helping Jack to agree to take part in whatever shit they have planned. This is not just about keeping an eye on the race for captain.

When I put it that way, I can pretty much believe it.

“Of course I’m in,” I say casually, giving my arm a good stretch. “Let’s talk after practice, okay?”

For the first time since she approached me, the hard set to her jaw lifts and she finally looks like the girl I used to spend endless afternoons with making up new choreography for Ariana Grande and Beyoncé.

It’s a good face to see again.