“Girl, you are so clearly not originally from Florida.” Claire tosses a green paper scale at her, but it drifts to the floor between them like a leaf. “Take that Ohio energy out of Gator Day.”

“You’re just jealous of my tan.” Zoe flips her sun-streaked bottle-blond hair over one orangey shoulder.

“Your tan that comes straight out of the Spray Garden?” Claire counters, sparking a lot more throwing of décor.

Cara turns to me and rolls her eyes. “How’s your garland coming along?” Her light blue eyes drop down to the pile of nothing in my lap. “Ammo, you know you’re supposed to be stringing this stuff on, right?”

Whoops. Guess my brain is elsewhere. I wonder why.

“I’ve never been good at sewing,” I say sheepishly, putting the string down. “I think I’ll go help Crystal and Nia with the posters.”

“You sure?” She furrows her brow. “I thought after last year you didn’t wanna go within twenty feet of Gator-green glitter.”

Ugh, it’s true. I was washing it out of my hair and clothes for weeks. But sitting this close to Cara and not being able to ask about her and Robbie is slowly killing me. “I guess I have even more negative feelings about fake alligator teeth,” I offer, wishing for the millionth time that I wasn’t the world’s worst liar.

Today was supposed to be a Step Up and Lead Day, one in a long line of planned ones where I came up with brilliant ideas and proved that I deserved the captain spot. But between Cara and the drama with Jack and, well, all the making out with Jack, I’ve barely given Spirit Week any attention. Any thoughts I may have had about streaming sequined ribbons from our uniforms or showing up with a perfectly manicured C-U-L-8-R on one hand and G-A-T-O-R on the other has flown out the window, along with my sanity.

“You sure you’re okay?” Cara’s eyebrows have even more incredible gymnastic capabilities than she does, and she’s our best flyer. “You’ve been a little off all day.”

And then, because I am incredibly stupid and I cannot help myself, I say, “I’m fine—just thinking about who I wanna snap tomorrow.”

Maybe I only notice because I’m looking for it, but Cara’s shoulders sink, like she was reminded she has no one to snap. Suddenly, I feel like crap. It’s not her fault Robbie was a dick, especially if she didn’t know he was blackmailing Miguel.

Which we’ve already established she didn’t.

Right?