As she lifted a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, I saw she had painted her nails bright red, a far cry from the Ballet Slippers she normally sported. Sexy Liz plucked a few ice cubes out of a sweating bucket, dropped them into a glass, and then filled it nearly to the top with vodka. I waited for her to add a mixer, but instead she whirled around, her hair streaming behind her, and began to walk toward Heather, who was now assigning teams for the cornhole tournament. I was too far away to hear what Liz said to her, but Heather’s face changed from a smirk to surprise and then anger.

Heather’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits as she slowly lifted her drink to her mouth, no doubt forming a plan to destroy Liz socially. Her minions had equally dark looks, as though Heather was the neck and they were collectively the head that had to follow. They all ran the school, and there were even more opportunities for them to exclude Liz now that they had a concrete example of why she didn’t belong.

I bent down and gave Emily’s leg another pat before I walked over to Liz, wiping the leftover blood on my shorts.

“Hey, that was quite an entrance,” I said to Liz. “What did you say to Heather?” I glanced over, and she was still glaring in Liz’s direction.

She lifted a meticulously drawn eyebrow and gave me a small smile. “I said to her what I have always wanted to say.” Her words were stiff, formal, missing their usual warmth.

Melissa appeared next to us. “Liz, most of the husbands are staring at you right now,” she said as she gestured toward the semicircle of men gripping sweating craft beer bottles, trying not to stare. “For that reason, I would advise avoiding Heather and her witches.”

Liz didn’t answer but took a sip of her vodka without a wince and nodded to the group of men. They quickly looked away. Busted.

“So what’s up with you? Just woke up feeling edgy today?” I said as I waved a hand up and down her figure. “Performance art piece?”

She smiled again and took another sip, before her voice came out, deep and formal. “I am not sure what you are referring to. I have never felt more like myself.”

Melissa and I exchanged a puzzled look as Jess walked up, still barefoot.

Jess clapped Liz on the back, hard. “Hell yes. Love this look. Shit, I’m so happy I was here to see”—she gestured up and down the length of Liz’s body—“this happen.” She wiped her sweaty brow with her forearm as she laughed.

Liz stared at her for a moment and then laughed along. A chill ran down my back at Liz’s expression. It looked like she was studying Jess to figure out the appropriate response. Her teeth even seemed whiter.