All of which is to say thank goodness I’m going to the OUTlet mixer. It’ll feel nice to leave all that stress behind and focus on being Emily’s wingwoman for a few hours.

Earlier this week, I hit upon the idea of a silver locket for Em to wear tonight. Inside, I’ve put the dried petals of all the things that feel right: a couple of tiny primrose lilac blossoms for confidence, pink rose petals for friendship (bonus: pink rosebuds stand for new love, so the petals could really go either way), purple rose petals for enchantment, and I even raided Hannah’s herb cabinet for a pinch of southernwood, which is supposed to make people vivacious and—if you believe the books—sexy. Em is wearing the locket around her neck on a narrow silver satin ribbon, fiddling with it as we pull into the parking lot of Quinlan Community Center in Cupertino. As we approach the building, Emily starts fussing with her blouse, an emerald-green off-the-shoulder tie-front that I got her for her birthday last year. She pulls the shoulders up, then back down again, ties the tie, loosens it, and then starts the process over.

“Em, you look fine,” I tell her. “Calm down. It’s gonna be fun.”

“I know.” But she keeps fidgeting with her clothes.

We check in and head over to the snack table. We’re surveying the chip selection and debating the relative merits of Ruffles (me) versus SunChips (Em) when a hand reaches between us and taps Em on the shoulder.

“Emily!”

We both turn toward the speaker, who is none other than Brynn, looking perky and athletic and just all around large and in charge.

“Oh—hey!” says Emily. Her cheeks flush, and her hand goes to her locket.

Oh no. I did not spend all my time on that thing for Brynn.

“Hey! I’m so glad you came!” Brynn looks at me with slightly less enthusiasm and adds, exclamation mark intact, “Hey, CJ!”

“Hey.”

“Are you here as an ally, or . . . ?”

I want to give her a cold stare, but I don’t have the guts. So I stumble my way through an answer. “Oh. No. I mean. Yes, but. Well. I’m here as her friend.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t want to assume anything!” Then she peers at Emily’s face and says, “Hey, you look amazing. That shirt really brings out your eyes.” She sounds so sincere—she even looks a little bit shy—that I feel my animosity waver for a moment. Maybe I should give Brynn a chance. Maybe she has changed.

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” says Em.

“It’s not your usual look, is it?” It is, in fact, slightly dressier than her usual look. But we all know that’s not what Brynn really means. I knew she hadn’t changed.

“Uh . . .” says Emily, not sure how to respond.