“Anyway. Are you ready? We’re supposed to be in the ballroom in seven minutes. Dr. Waverly will probably send out a search party if we’re late.” Dr. Waverly had been on edge ever since they’d announced the mixer, warning people repeatedly that if they “cavorted” in an “inappropriate manner” at any time, she’d put their entire school on lockdown. Jaya felt a prickle of sympathy for the headmistress. It couldn’t be an easy task—managing students who were used to getting everything they wanted the instant they decided they wanted it, while also keeping their extremely powerful, wealthy parents happy.

Isha looked at her silently for a long moment, as if she could sense that Jaya was holding something back. But then, sighing, she stood.

The two of them walked arm in arm out of the room, and Jaya thought, It’ll be all right soon, Ish. You’ll see.

CHAPTER 8

Grey

Grey stood by a large potted plant in a corner of the sprawling rooftop of the main building, watching everyone laugh and socialize—something he’d never quite gotten the hang of. Elliot, the kid from the library and Isha’s friend, talked animatedly with a group of other sophomores. Grey was glad, in spite of himself. He’d noticed the boy last year, too, always walking by himself around campus. He’d probably had a hard time fitting in, being one of the only scholarship people at St. R’s. Grey got what it meant to be different, apart. Which might sound weird coming from a rich, white, British-born male aristocrat, but Grey had never felt part of anything. He’d always thought of himself as an island, existing outside of the continent of human relationships. Elliot looked over, caught his eye, and waved. After a moment’s hesitation, Grey raised his own hand in a kind-of wave.

A cloud of laughter rose up from another group in the corner and Grey’s gaze passed over them. Everyone was a glitzier, more animated version of themselves tonight. Grey couldn’t help feeling the slightest edge of boredom, of ennui. Every year was the same. The freshmen were fresh-faced, the sophomores were finally getting into the groove of things, the juniors were all about hooking up, and the seniors would spike the punch at some point. Same show, slightly different actors. Did none of them notice? Did no one except him see how… how pointless it all was?

“Yo.” Daphne Elizabeth grabbed his elbow, jerking him out of the spiral of his thoughts. “You okay? You look like you’re watching the most depressing movie in the universe.”

Grey straightened. “I’m fine.”

Batting her feathery glued-on eyelashes, DE looked down at her distressed retro prom dress. “How do I look?”

Grey studied her. She’d ripped holes in the silk fabric so her cleavage and stomach were exposed. “Good,” he said blandly.