He shrugs. That’s not chill, that’s evasive.

I take a step back and stare him down. It’s never a good idea to put words in someone’s mouth, especially in a fight, but, sis, I am in a mood. So I do. “You’re going to say it’s my fault, aren’t you?” I don’t even give him a chance to deny it. “Go ahead, say you told me so.”

He hesitates. Oh my god, he’s considering it! Only a fool would dare—

He goes for it. “I couldn’t say that if it wasn’t true …”

“So instead of comforting your boyfriend, who will be a school joke for the next few days and who you won’t get to dance with at prom, you’re blaming him for screwing it up? Nice, babe.”

Even as I feel my face heating up, part of me knows Cheng will say something to defuse the situation and cool me down. It’s a major perk of dating someone so chill.

Except that’s not what he does. “Sometimes,” he starts, voice soft. “I think you just don’t listen to people.”

“What?”

“You could have started a petition last fall instead of sneaking it through now and hoping the ‘cult of Luis’ would be enough to get by.”

“The what now?”

I can’t believe he’s using one of my favorite terms—the cult of personality—against me. Worse, he’s making me sound self-absorbed and shallow when I was doing this for us!

Cheng’s cheeks are reddening. He may be as surprised as I am by what he just said. And he sure as hell can see that I’m volcanic. “I …” he starts and stops. It’s pretty clear he’s regretting heading down this path, so he switches gears. “I wanted to dance together at prom. And maybe we could have, if …” He can’t finish the sentence because there is no end that won’t spawn an eruption.

“If I had done things differently? What about you? Or Nix or anyone? At least I tried. I’m not just slouching along pretending that second-class treatment is enough. I’m a doer. You’re—”

“Luis.” He reaches for me.

“You’re as bad as Mom!”

He tries to make it a joke. “Lucky me then, ’cause you love your mom.”

“Are you smiling? Right now? You think I’m amused?” He reaches for me, and I slap his hands away. “Maybe it’s a good thing Mrs. Somboon-Fox said no. You can go to prom alone.”

I turn away, and he doesn’t call out for me, which is fair but maddening, and now I don’t want to see Nix either. I want to see Ms. Silverthorn. She’ll know what to do—not about Cheng, but about the mess I’ve made.