Actually, it’s everyone but Duggan who’d be happy for him to take my spot Friday night, I think but don’t say. God, if even Foster knows she could pull me out with no resistance from the team despite the school finally having a winning record, that’s just sad. “So now what?” I ask through gritted teeth.

She sighs. “I don’t know. Let me text Miguel.”

Ten minutes later we’re all late for class and I’m wearing a spare polo of Santiago’s disguised beyond recognition with extra tinsel and crap Amber yanked off a poster. It’s not even one of those gator polos, but it’s done up too festively for anyone to notice. I look absolutely ridiculous.

But two people at this school actually helped me out. So I’ll wear it with pride.

“You look extremely festive,” says Amber, smirking with satisfaction at her work. “Even Foster would approve.”

“Well, you know how much I crave Foster’s approval.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “You crave mine, don’t you?”

Grudgingly, I concede that maybe, a little bit, I do.

“Good.” Finally, there’s a hint of a real smile, and it makes something inside me flutter.

Fuck, I really like this girl.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I growl, because I can see that it is, and I hate that it’s so cute.

“I would never.” And then she reaches into her bag and produces a plain, unadorned clothespin, gives it a quick kiss, and clips it to the hem of my new shirt. “Now get your ass to class.”

I resolve to stay on my best behavior for the rest of the day. After all, there’s a whole week of this shit—Spirit Day (which sounds celebratory but is apparently a day we all just dress up like ghosts?), Atherton Pride Day (which is, sadly, not the kind of Pride I was hoping for, but a day to celebrate the things we love about our fair city), Pajama Day (which I can definitely do), and Books and Balls Day (when we’re definitely supposed to wear our uniforms, Amber confirmed)—and I’m sure I’ll find plenty more ways to get in trouble.

When the bell finally sounds, it’s a momentary relief, until I remember I have to face the stupid assholes who pranked me at practice. But no one says a word, and no one seems to know Miguel had any part in saving me, and at the end, I have an offer of a ride home from Amber, so actually, it ends up being a pretty good day.

I take my time changing back into my clothes, waiting until I hear the guys emptying out of the school. Finally, when the coast is clear, I duck out and into Amber’s car.

“Hi, troublemaker,” she says, her eyes sparkling.