“Ohhhh,” I say, immediately aware of where this is headed. Kyle doesn’t know the full extent of my fling with Lucas, but he did happen to walk into the gas station once while I was walking out of the back room. “I don’t . . . Lucas and I . . .” Lucas is not only the recent high school graduate gas station attendant. He’s also one of the only people in town who will sell beer to minors, but he won’t sell to just anyone. And sure, I know for a fact that Lucas would sell me whatever I wanted, but it would require actually seeing Lucas, which is a thing I had hoped to avoid forever, basically.

“Come on,” Clem chimes in. “We’ve never been to a real high school party, Waylon. This is our chance to make one last memory of our time here.”

The three of them—Clem, Alex, and Kyle—look at me with hope in their eyes. And it’s true. None of us were ever invited to the wild high school parties where people get wasted and dance on tables or make out with six people in one night. We could invite Millie and Amanda and Ellen and Willowdean and all the other kids who were never cool enough to be on someone’s list and for one night, we could run the show.

“Fine,” I finally say. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Alex kisses me on the cheek and Kyle lunges at me in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” they both sing in unison.

Surprisingly, their close proximity isn’t awful.

After school, in the home ec room, everyone partners up in their assigned pairs automatically, so it’s just me left sitting at the back of the room at a tall tabletop desk, like the kinds we have in science classes, getting ditched all over again. Déjà vu.

“Good afternoon, prom court,” Mrs. Leonard says in a teacher voice.

“Good afternoon,” a few people mumble back.

In front of me, Melissa and Bryce have a whispered argument that results in Melissa scooting her chair a full two feet from him.

“Is everything all right, Miss Gutierrez?” asks Mrs. Leonard.

“Um, no, actually,” Melissa says.

“Come on.” Bryce groans. “Really?”

Melissa throws up a hand to silence him. “My partner seems to think our legacy project should be a yearly official publication of the Hot or Not list.”

“Is that really still a thing?” I ask.

Callie, Hannah, and Bekah turn to me, varying shades of irritation on their faces. “Yes.”

Mrs. Leonard shakes her head. “Bryce, that is highly inappropriate. Melissa, I’m sure Bryce meant that as a joke.”

“Does it even matter if he did?” Melissa asks incredulously.

Just then, the door swings open and Tucker dashes inside, straight to where I’m seated. “Hey,” he says to me, still panting. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. L.” He turns to me. “Sorry.”