“I’m fine,” she hisses. But her hand grabs on to mine and she squeezes for just a second before she pulls away. She takes a deep breath and reaches a shaky hand up to smooth down her hair. And then she bows.

The crowd goes wild.

TWO

DANIELLE STRAIGHTENS back up, smiling like she’s Chase at a home game and we’re all holding signs with her name on them. It’s like the Madonna song is just her entrance music. I follow behind her the rest of the way down the stairs, hoping that nobody has made the connection between the song and me, how it’s my entrance music too.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ava barrels over to us, grabbing Danielle possessively by the arm. Ava is tiny—more boobs than body—with pale freckly skin she keeps perfectly tanned even in winter, due to a passion for tinted coconut body lotion. Her hair was red once upon a time, but last year she started dyeing it different colors to match the holidays. Right now it’s a faded pink from Valentine’s Day, and it looks just like the cotton candy they make down by the lake in the summer. She’s wearing the same bright red lipstick as Danielle, her ears decked in the same silver studs, and in her hand is the same matching purple phone case. It’s a uniform that makes things clear: even if we’re technically friends, I’ll never be able to penetrate their two-person club. Sometimes I think she and Danielle are so used to being exactly the same that dyeing her hair is the only way Ava can think of to stand apart: her one tiny rebellion.

“Did you seriously just hook up with Chase?” Ava tugs on Danielle’s arm. “Everyone says you slept with him.”

“Everyone says,” Danielle repeats, her mouth twisted. “So it must be true.”

Ava tugs harder. “I’ve got it from here,” she says to me. And then they walk away, whispering to each other in low voices I can’t hear. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed again by the need to hide. I take a hesitant sip of what’s left of my beer, just for something to do. It tastes like warm pee.

Parties have always been Andrew’s thing, not mine, and I don’t know how he’s so good at convincing me to come to them, not when I’d rather be ten hours deep in a Netflix binge. I scan the room for him, or for Hannah, or somebody, but I’m too short to see over the crowd.

I’m going to kill Andrew for throwing me a birthday party and then leaving me to fend for myself.