When Ernie sees my prom outfit—smoking jacket, tux pants, oversized pin—he is pretty overtly torn between straight-up disapproval and wanting to be a good roommate. “Guess I’m not moving to Connecticut,” he tries to joke, but it comes out a little strangled. I think I look really cute, like if I saw this thumbnail on iTunes, I’d buy the single.

Meanwhile, Ernie wears a three-piece suit I would never have guessed was in his closet. It’s navy pinstripes, and it makes him look kind of Wall Streety, which weirdly works on him. The art, the suit—this kid is way more complicated than I thought when I moved in. He’s the reason why you’re never supposed to judge a book by its cover.

Now, we’re just waiting for Chaz, and I don’t know what to expect. If anyone is going to rock the Miami Vice thing, it’s him. But I wouldn’t put tails and a top hat past him either.

When he opens the door, I am speechless.

He can’t be. He is. He can’t be.

He is … dressed like Prince.

A shiny deep purple jacket with wide shoulders cinched at his waist, full-on British Lord ruffles spilling from neck to navel like a waterfall. Lace cuffs pour from the sleeves like waves. Sleek black pants end in black Capezios. Just like that, I’m second-best-dressed.

Ernie looks apoplectic. “Will they—will they even let you wear that?”

“Can they stop him?” I ask. It’s a real question.

Trying to backpedal a little, Ernie stretches for a compliment. “I mean, that might be cool for MTV …” He can’t sustain it. “Frohmeyer’s gonna freak out.”

Chaz looks serene. “My collar is buttoned. I’m not in jeans. It’s half the outfit I wear to church every week. It’s all dress code—what can they say?”

Ernie isn’t sold. “I don’t want to make a scene. I always make a scene. This was the first time ever I wasn’t worried about it.”

Chaz furrows his brow. “I didn’t think you’d mind so much. You always seem … cool with me.” He looks wounded.

I think back to when Ernie and I first talked about Chaz. The cream puff line. The implication that “acting gay” is a bigger problem than bullying. Instead of green, his face is red now. I see him working through his feelings. He’d gone through most of high school with only JJ, the wallet girl, as a buddy, and he finally finds a crowd—even has friends to go to prom with. But this, this is too much. His defense is weak. “If … if there was no Gordo … it wouldn’t matter.”