When we got them, I joked that they were trying to make us—well, those of us with pale skin—look like we were dipped naked in sugar. Ellory’s got a tiny smile on her face now, and she has her phone out. Is she recording this? I hope she is. I lift my chin. I’m trying to remember the names of the other two students. Katherine would know. They’re scribbling notes to each other on a legal pad between them.

“Do you think you’re being funny?” the dean says. The look on his face is pure ice. Mr. Banerjee leans over to say something in a low voice to Ms. Warren.

“Absolutely not,” Nevaeh says.

“Because this is absolutely disrespectful,” he goes on like he didn’t hear her. “Are you mocking the honor board?”

Before any of us can answer, the noise of doors squeaking open comes from behind us, and I turn.

Taylor is standing in the wide doorway, and behind him, the lobby is crowded with students I recognize—ones who bought tickets to Dirty Little Secret, dancers from my classes … I think I hear Zoe’s voice.

“Why are those doors open?” the dean says. “Close the doors! Ms. Flores—”

I interrupt him before I can lose my courage.

“Sir!” I say, and his gaze snaps to mine. “We do not intend to be disrespectful.”

“Is that right, Ms. Grant? Ms. Flores,” he says impatiently. She hurries around the table. Behind us, Taylor is arguing with her. The crowd of students is less quiet.

“We intend to make a point, sir. Are you aware that this is what we will be wearing in our recital this year?” I ask him politely.

He blinks at me and then takes his glasses off, drops them on the folder in front of him. “I am sorry, Ms. Grant, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

“These are the costumes all the senior dance students will be wearing for the second piece in this year’s showcase. Sir. All the female students. These costumes were chosen for us by our costume designer and our director.” The noise from the hallway is growing, and I refuse to look over. Nevaeh mutters something next to me. Ellory’s still got a small smile on her face. “They’re school sanctioned, in other words.”

“These outfits?” he says. He is absolutely doubting us.

I spread my hands wide. “These outfits,” I say.

“In the third piece, the modern dance students will be wearing nude bodysuits,” Katherine says. “They look naked,” she adds helpfully.

“I don’t appreciate this distraction,” the dean says. “What is the point of all this?”

“The point?” Nevaeh says. “Here’s the point. Do you think these are too revealing?”

“Watch your tone with me,” he snaps. “You’re trying to confuse the issue.”

“We would appreciate an answer,” Katherine says, her voice icy.