“We’re here today live to announce your prom court. Miranda, I believe you have our list of students in the running for prom king.”

Miranda nods and offers a stiff smile. I swear, you turn a camera on and people (even stupid, charming Kyle) turn into robots. At least the two of them showcase how charming and relaxed Millie is on camera.

“We have four nominees for queen and four for king,” says Miranda. “Your nominees for homecoming king are Mitch Lewis, Bryce Dooley, Tucker Watson—”

The whole classroom erupts in cheers and a few guys lean over to bro-grip Tucker’s shoulder and offer their congrats.

Well, Tucker is on my shit list. Bryce is a piece of work, and even if he weren’t, he would be by association thanks to his dad. Mitch is cool at least.

“And Hannah Perez?” Miranda finishes.

The room rumbles with whispers as Miranda leans over to Kyle and says, “Isn’t that a girl?”

What is going on? Is this some kind of joke?

Kyle looks perplexed. “There’s no rule saying that only male-identifying students can be nominated for king, so . . .” He turns to Millie. “We will, um, we will be speaking with our faculty adviser and double-checking the ballots on this one. I’m sure it was a misprint.”

On-screen, Millie grins, though she’s obviously a little perplexed, and blows into a plastic noisemaker. “Congratulations to the nominees! Can’t wait to see who takes the crown.” She turns to Kyle. “Take it away, Kyle.”

He holds up a sealed envelope and tears into it. “These results were tabulated by our treasurer along with several faculty volunteers, and on behalf of the student body, Miranda and I would like to thank them for their service. Now for the results.” He reads them quickly and his brow furrows for a moment. “Your nominees for homecoming queen are Bekah Cotter.”

No surprise. She came out of the womb with a crown on her head and a baton in her meaty baby fist.

“Melissa Gutierrez.”

Captain of the Shamrocks, the school dance team. Tucker’s ex-girlfriend. She could give Bekah a real run for her money.

“Callie Reyes.”

Former mean girl and former Shamrock, which should make for some good drama.

“And . . .”

Say Millie. Say Millie. Say Millie. We could use a wild card. That would change the news cycle, for sure. And give me someone to root for.

“Waylon Brewer.”

That was not the wild card I was expecting.

Eleven

I am immediately called into the office, where Hannah is already sitting, slouched in a chair with her beanie pulled over her eyes.

“Um, what the hell is going on?” I ask her.

She pulls the beanie up over one eye and gets a look at me. “Oh, you haven’t heard? We’re next in line to the throne.”

“Stop messing around.”