“Chaz wouldn’t have told you, to spare my feelings, but I kissed him. Blame the excitement of prom night—and seeing him in that suit—” I’m really selling it now. “Poor guy had no idea it was coming! It was, like, three seconds long, and it was terrible.”

Tawny gives me a look that says she knows how I feel. Ernie relaxes so visibly that I wonder how I didn’t notice anything between them before.

But Ma Elena purses her lips. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do here!” (Now that sounds more like her.)

“Well, sis, here is where I am!”

“Not for long.” Chaz decides we need to tell them what happened in Frohmeyer’s office. When they hear that we are likely to be expelled, little explosions detonate around the table. Tawny starts to cry, and Ernie looks like he might faint.

Leeza sits erect, padded shoulders wide, eyes blazing. “No. Way.” A look comes over her that can only be described as possessed. “I’m not letting that happen.”

Tawny tilts her head. “What can you do about it? You’re not exactly Frohmeyer’s favorite.”

Leeza can’t argue. Spend four years being an outsider, and you have no favors to call in. “I am so done with this school.” Leaving her tray behind, she storms away, well aware that some of the other kids are watching. She flips off the last table before she’s out the door.

Ma Elena takes my hand. “Where will you go?”

What else can I say? “Back to the future, I hope.”

Student Life Committee looks exactly like a witch tribunal, minus the pilgrim hats and, I don’t know, straw. Ensconced in wooden chairs with the school logo, the four men line a table facing us, Frohmeyer and Blue in dark suits and Mr. A and Buckman in their button-downs but with fat blue ties. Ms. Silverthorn, like Chaz and me, sits in a folding chair, her status made clear by which side of the table she’s on.

While we were with our friends, she was pleading our cases. Whatever she said to them, the grim set of her face has told us it was not well received. The men seem to consciously avoid letting their eyes land on her now. Buckman looks not just smug but hungry to deliver the final blow. Ableman—Mr. A—looks wistful, probably for his youth, remembering a time when he wasn’t responsible for kicking kids out of school. Blue does not look beloved of seniors at this time; he can hardly untwist his face, so disgusted is he by the accusations leveled.

Frohmeyer settles heavily into his chair. “We’re in agreement. What happened to you boys was terrible, but you did bring it on yourself. Your refusal to take real ownership of what happened, even after the other fellas did their part, is not acceptable. You’re both expelled.”