“This was definitely the result of me having one of those ‘just because you can doesn’t mean you should’ moments and then me completely ignoring it.”

—JEWEL VAN HANEN

SUNDAY, 8:00 A.M.

Announcement

All guests: please proceed to the White Drawing Room immediately.

WILD ROYAL FLUSH

SUNDAY, 8:01 A.M.

“It’s happening,” Luna said, breathless and bouncing on her tiptoes. “It’s happening!”

Stella said, “We’ll need everything—all our presents. Harlow?”

“Already packed,” she answered, and handed Alex her bag. “Can you hold on to everything for me? I’m on tablet duty.”

“But we know how to get to the drawing room,” he said, taking it anyway.

“I’m using Stella’s tablet to catalog all the secret passageways we pass on the way down,” Harlow said.

Alex frowned. “It works when the necklace isn’t plugged in?”

“We—”

“Huddle up,” Stella shouted. “Sorry to cut you off there, Harlow, except I’m not. Come on, hustle, hustle, hustle! Huddle, huddle, huddle!”

“She can’t be serious,” Francis said.

“Huddle. Up,” Stella threatened, content to leave the or else implied. Once they formed a friendship-is-magic circle, she continued, “We stick to the plan, which means you all sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Let me handle everything. Luna, I know this will be hard for you, but stay silent until it’s time. Eyes on me.”

“Excuse you, you’re talking to the SilentStar of Golden Rule. Show some respect,” Alex said, smiling.

“And just like that, you’re third favorite again,” Stella said. “Such a waste.”

When they opened the door, burly men with bad haircuts wearing earpieces that coiled down and under the collars of their jackets waited for them on the other side.

“Just a safety precaution,” Guard Number One said, standing at the front of the group. His partner brought up the rear.

Nicole whispered, “I hope you’re right about this.”

Stella regarded her new best girl and sister with a cool, mocking look—the first time she’d used it on her. “I’m not not right about it.”

That weekend Stella had learned quite a few new and shiny things. Like the fact that she was slightly afraid of ghosts. She craved having friends who would become more like sisters. She could care about people like Harlow (and she deserved cookies for that one). She had a romantic type, and it would probably cause her a hefty amount of tender heartbreak later on.

Attending Golden Weekend had also confirmed something she already knew. She would always be insufferably and violently herself.

The one and only Stella Beauregard.

Unexpectedly, Ethan and Olive waited alone in the White Drawing Room. Considering the bodyguard escort, Stella had assumed there would be a more obvious security presence to up the intimidation factor.

“Hi, everyone,” Olive said. Bloodshot eyes and croaking voice—someone was sure committed to winning the Oscar for grieving best friend. Such a cute little liar.