“Who are you going with?” Hannah asks at lunch. I immediately think of Dean and then try to wipe the idea from my mind. I’ve never been into school dances because of all the awkward small talk and double-sided tape and the not wearing comfortable shoes, but now that there’s a potential guy involved—for the first time in my life—even I’m a little excited about the idea. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’m a monster.

“She’s going with James Dean, obviously,” Ava says, taking a sip of her smoothie. At least, she claims it’s a smoothie—it looks like brown sludge and is so thick she’s struggling to suck it up the straw.

“I never thought you’d find something you couldn’t suck,” Danielle says dryly, her eyes on Ava.

Ava pulls the straw out of her mouth. “You’d know. You’re the expert on sucking!”

Danielle’s lips quirk up into a smile. “So I’ve been told.”

“What are you drinking?” I ask, pointing at the sludge. Some of the liquid has started to separate, spreading into two colors like a test tube experiment.

“It’s coca-kale-a,” she says, as if it’s obvious. “It’s made from diet kale.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say diet kale?” Hannah asks. “Isn’t all kale diet kale?”

“This stuff is better.” Ava tips the drink toward us. The smell wafts pungently across the table. “They strip out all of the calories from the kale before they puree it. All that’s left are kaleories. I heard Beyoncé drinks one before every show.”

“I bet.” Danielle wrinkles her nose for a moment at the drink and then turns to me, her eyes sparkling. “So, James Dean then?”

“I don’t know,” I say, picking through my Caesar salad with a plastic fork. I bought it from the school cafeteria, so the lettuce looks brown and wilted, and I’m only eating the croutons. “He just doesn’t seem like the . . . prom type.” Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re just hooking up and not dating and people definitely don’t take their hookups to their high school prom.

Danielle shrugs. “Do you have any other prospects?”

“She’s the only one of us with any prospects at all,” Ava says, setting her drink down on the table. The liquid inside doesn’t even jiggle—it’s congealed into a solid. She turns to Danielle. “Who do you want to go with?”

“No one,” Danielle says. “Our class is pathetic. Chase is out, obviously, and I’m not touching Ryder after he called me a slut. Besides, we all know Ava’s gonna fuck him again.”