I drift over to the Midsummer Night’s Dream table, where Morgan is enthusiastically pitching a trio of younger girls who appear more interested in the half-naked boy beside her than how much money they’ll save reusing sets from last year’s production of Into the Woods. Judging from Morgan’s glimmering green-and-gold eye makeup and the vines twisted in her hair and around the boy’s bare torso, I’m guessing they’re aping Titania and Puck.

“Caleb, why are you so obsessed with wood?” Natalie calls over from Old Hollywood Glam, her shoulders warmed by a faux-fur stole, her tone singsong but a barb apparent.

“I love wood. What can I say?” Puck—nay, Caleb—grins. Next to Natalie, Luke snorts a laugh, while Morgan’s body tenses, her mouth going white, pressed into a firm line. I wonder if there’s history there between her and Caleb. She proceeds to talk even louder about fitting the lights in the gym with green filters so the whole place will take on a dreamy, woodsy atmosphere.

Luke jumps in. “Hey, girls, come over here and I’ll take my shirt off if you promise to vote for our theme.” He shrugs off his smart suit jacket and starts to unbutton his crisp white shirt.

“Puck you!” Caleb shouts over, emphasizing the p sound so the teacher on cafeteria duty is unable to raise hell. Luke stops short of shirtlessness.

“And anyone who votes now gets an exclusive invite to my homecoming after-party,” Natalie says. She preens as the girls flutter over to her table like moths to a flame, phones already in hand.

Having witnessed a battle I barely understand and have no wish to join, I find Amber and Bronte at what must be their regular table. I slide into a chair across from them. “Okay, what’s with the battle of the hams back there?”

“Homecoming-theme vote is today. Have you registered your school email yet? You use that with the school app,” Bronte explains.

Behind her, Amber frowns. “It might be too late, though. They announce the theme at the assembly this afternoon.”

Bronte smiles encouragingly. “Even if you miss the vote, Spirit Week starts Monday. It’s a lot of fun. You’ll love it.”

My school had a Spirit Week—that much is familiar to me—but our homecoming dances were not this well thought out. Unless Stringing Fairy Lights in the Gym is a theme. Our prom was when we’d go all out. Football wasn’t the biggest deal for us, so homecoming was whatever.

Amber smirks. “So the choice is between casual racism, bikinis as dresses, wood sprite, and every girl dressing like Marilyn Monroe.”

“Seems like a no-brainer,” I say. “Any day I can dress up like Katharine Hepburn is a good day.”

“I knew I liked you,” Amber says.