A soft knock came at the door. “Are you ready?” Ethan asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, opening the door. He smiled at her, grabbing the end of her braid and tugging lightly.

“It’s kind of weird, seeing you like this. Like seeing Sutton in Emma-drag.”

“I know,” she admitted. “I feel like I’m still playing a role.”

Ethan shrugged. “We all play roles. You just have to find the one that you like best.”

She poked him in the ribs. “What role are you playing?”

He put on a mock-hurt expression. “Prince Charming, obviously.”

Laughing, Emma followed him down the hall to the entryway. Staying with Ethan was the silver lining to this whole nightmare. She’d never spent so much time with a boy before, but it just felt . . . right. A perfect fit.

On the way to school Ethan played an old Arcade Fire album, humming under his breath. Emma idly opened and closed the glove compartment. She tried to steel herself for whatever would come.

The area around the student parking lot was clotted with news vans. Emma had anticipated this. She put on her shades and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head.

“You look like the Unabomber,” Ethan said.

“At least they won’t be able to see my face,” she replied.

Dozens of students milled about among the reporters, trying to get on TV. Emma saw Celeste Echols speaking into a microphone that Tricia Melendez held under her chin, and she groaned aloud. Celeste had been saying something was wrong with her “aura” since they first met. She would be insufferable now.

Ethan parked the car, and they stepped out into the pallid winter morning. A crescent moon still hung low on the horizon. She met Ethan’s questioning glance with a determined, let’s-get-this-over-with nod.

The students loitering in the parking lot stared at her baldly. A crowd of muscular guys hanging out around a Ford F-250 stopped body-slamming each other to gawk as she walked past. Two twiggy freshman girls scuttled out of her way as if she’d menaced them. She caught sight of a half dozen girls from the tennis team clustered near the flagpole. They fell silent as she approached, their faces pale and eyes wide. Ethan took her hand, and she squeezed back, trying not to look right or left. She focused on walking slowly and deliberately, though a part of her just wanted to bolt toward the glass double doors to the school.

Then she saw who was waiting in the entryway. Principal Ambrose stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her legs planted wide. She wore a zebra-striped suit coat and a pair of purple trousers. Her skin was usually dull and sagging, but today she’d put on turquoise eye shadow up to her eyebrows.