Half Title

Dedication

To Mikey, the sister I lucked into

Title Page

Under the Rainbow

Under the Rainbow

There is no point to senior year if it’s not all about you.

Let’s review: Freshman year is for children who have no idea what they’re getting into as they spend months afraid of upperclassmen and cowed by teachers bearing homework; sophomore year is when the cis boys spend every waking minute impressing each other by doing the stupidest things while everyone else wishes they’d be escorted off to an island somewhere far away; junior year is for actual academic effort in order to look worth admitting to some school that will bankrupt your parents. But senior year? That’s when you rule.

I like to think I rule Antic Springs Academy. Before you get all oh my god, a prep school narrator and throw up in your mouth, let me be clear: ASA isn’t that kind of academy. It’s a boarding school with only about 200 kids, but it’s hanging on to life by a thread. You can work off part of your tuition with on-campus jobs and almost everyone does, so forget your notions of rich kids and scions of industry. There are a few silver spoons and a few kids from the opposite end of the spectrum here on scholarship, but mostly we’re in-betweens.

I like to look like money without being money. As in, I had the velvet Vans before everyone else because I started noticing YouTubers in LA wearing them; but mine were factory seconds from an outlet mall. When all the ’80s stuff started popping up on TV, I was at TJMaxx snapping up high-waisted acid wash (from the women’s section, because, who cares?) while everyone was still rocking their dark denim. I’m always leading the pack even on my budget, which is like hosting a dinner party on SNAP.

Today, I am wearing a silk bowling shirt emblazoned with ironic ’50s pin-ups, tucked into massive cargo pants that are cinched perfectly at my waist by a faux-ammo belt. My best friend Nix says I look like an influencer sponsored by a brand of questionable taste, which is, like, perfect. My boyfriend Cheng on the other hand—well, he tries to be chill when he sees me in the parking lot. And by chill, I mean he says something like, “Um … that’s a look,” instead of “Bae, I cannot be seen with you in that.” (He dresses better since we started going out, but he still never met a hoodie he didn’t like.) We have our morning kiss before we enter the admin building, where all senior classes take place.