Of course they did. So many kids here, they have that cash to spend. I mean, the bragging about weekends in Cabo and convertibles for Christmas. And having that cash makes a lot of them act like the rules aren’t a thing for them, going around paying for term papers or buying their roommate’s Adderall or bribing RAs when they break curfew.

“We don’t know any famous musicians,” Taylor says to me, “and you don’t play an instrument…”

I blink at each of them for a moment as the idea catches and starts to burn. “A burlesque club,” I say slowly. “An underground, pop-up, midnight burlesque show. That’s what you’re saying.” I can already see us. Glimmering under the spotlight. Ruffling, rippling feathers and laced-up satin corsets. Performing, dazzling, owning the room. Skin—but only as much as we want to show. After-curfew adventure and sneaking and danger. A secret burlesque club. I think again of that picture, that incredible burlesque dancer, shaped like me. My naked skin under a spotlight. In front of an audience. Could I do that?

Nevaeh is tapping her phone against her chin, a tiny smile on her face. Katherine’s got her fists clasped against her chest, and her eyes are bright. At the top of the steps, Taylor’s got his hands in his pockets, and he’s looking kind of smug. Nevaeh gets a photo of him.

“Well,” he says. “Wasn’t that basically your idea?”

Could we do that? We could do that.

I laugh and speed up the steps of the gazebo, spin, and spread my arms out wide.

“Exclusive midnight access to the hottest private underground burlesque show in town, live at Lakeshore Academy,” I announce.

“Dirty Little Secret!” Taylor cries, sketching out a flashing neon sign across the sky.

“Yes! Sure! Okay! We can work on the name!” I say.

“Brainstorming session!” Katherine cries. She loves to brainstorm.

“Select invite-only show,” I go on. “Major buzz, because you want to be one of the ones who dare to go. You want to be there so you can say you were there!”

“You’re such a fool if you miss it,” Nevaeh says, watching me with bright eyes.

She’s so good at igniting me. They all are. And it feels like I could go off like a firecracker.

“Oh, man,” I say. “Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Nevaeh snaps a photo of me. “You are so gorgeous when you’re excited,” she says, leaping up the stairs to pass me her phone. I spin in a circle and then peer at the screen. In the photo, my cheeks are flushed with cold and excitement, and my eyes are shining. I could do this, right?

Nevaeh takes my hand, spins me in the snow, and dips me, her braids tumbling across her face, snow from the trees above us plopping down on our heads.