“No,” Lucy said, reaching around Delia to shut her computer. She refused to let Gavin under her skin—under any of their skins. “We worked all week. Tonight’s for fun.” And letting everyone see how unified they were because, turns out, Lucy’s mom was right about the importance of presentation.

Lucy looked up at Maddie, who was sitting on the end of her top bunk, her long legs dangling well into Delia’s bed underneath. “I’ll do you next, Maddie.”

Without lifting her eyes from her phone, Maddie replied, “Got straight covered, thanks.”

“I have a curling wand. Three, actually. Teen Vogue asked me to do a review. And you can borrow one of my tees. It’ll be like a crop top on you, and it’s always good to show a little skin and—”

“I’m good,” Maddie said.

Strategize, stylize, socialize.

Tonight needed all three. Lucy yanked the straightener through Delia’s hair.

But then Delia asked, “You’re coming though, right?”

Maddie stared at them, twirling her stylus in her hand. “He really rented out the whole place?”

“I heard he tried,” Lucy said. “But the club donated it. Way better deal for them with all the attention they’ll get from Ryan walking through the door.”

“Unbelievable,” Maddie said.

“Pulse is the only way to live,” Lucy said with a wink.

“Is it though?”

“Come on, Maddie, it’ll be fun,” Delia said. “I’ve never been.”

“To San Francisco?” Maddie asked.

“To a club?” Lucy said.

“To anywhere.” Delia’s eyes flickered to her makeshift nightstand, the metal suitcase plastered with tourist stickers.

Maddie swung her legs back onto her bed. “Just let me finish texting my brother.”

“Way to go, Delia,” Lucy whispered in her ear.

“I wasn’t trying to manipulate her or anything. It’s just the truth.”

“Huh, really? Well, how about that.”

*   *   *

There was a cooler on the bus. Cans of cane sugar soda and organic coconut water, courtesy of ValleyStart. What surely wasn’t provided by the program were the koozie-covered PBRs and metal bottles full of premixed mojitos, margaritas, and rum and cola. Lucy wasn’t sure who’d snuck the alcohol on, but the drinks surreptitiously made the rounds. She and Maddie each had some, but Delia barely even tasted the sippy box of sangria before passing it off to Lucy.

She held it in one hand as the soft, warm sounds of an acoustic guitar filled the bus. Emma’s rich alto overlaid the notes, drowning out the excited chatter.

“Wow,” Delia whispered. “If she’s half as good a designer, we’re all in trouble.”