“Watch out, I might take you up on that,” I say, the words just slipping out, and she smiles the kind of smile you can’t fake, with the tip of her tongue sneaking out between her teeth. And I feel happy and sad at the same time and wish I was anyone else, because anyone else would be going in for the kiss right now, and I’m just sitting here staring.

Her phone dings. She reads a text message and frowns. “Shit. I have to go.”

“You do?” I ask, trying to swallow the disappointment that’s building like bile in my throat.

waitwaitwaitplease

Music starts playing—violins, maybe?—and it takes me a second to realize it’s her ringtone. Which is surprising. I don’t know what I expected, really, but I guess not classical music.

“Hello?” she says, wincing as she answers her phone. “Mom, I’m fine. . . . No. No! You do not have to come find me. Why are you even at the prom? . . . Uh-huh, sure, drink tickets, I completely believe that. I’m fi—okay, okay! Ten minutes? . . . Fine, five. Five. I’ll be there. . . . Love you too. Bye.”

“Everything okay?”

“Apparently, my mom showed up at the prom to ‘give me drink tickets’ and was pissed that I left without telling her, so now I have five minutes to make it to my room before I’m grounded for life.”

I scratch the back of my neck, guilt turning it crimson. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

sorrysorrysorryyoucangopleasestay

“You didn’t,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I knew what I was doing when I left. This was basically an experiment anyway, so there was bound to be a learning curve.”

“Experiment?”

whattheactualfuck

“Yeah, it’s called ‘stepping outside of my comfort zone.’ You should try it.” She pulls a pen out of her purse and scrawls some numbers up my arm. “Text me. Okay? I’m here all day tomorrow. I’ll be working a booth, but maybe I can sneak out for lunch or something.”

“Okay,” I say, and then she leans forward and kisses me quick on the cheek before grabbing her shoes. I sit there stunned, my stomach doing a little flip as she runs off.

holyshitholyshitHOLYSHIT

CHAPTER FIVE

Jubilee

“GET UP,” VERA says, flinging the curtains open wide so the sunlight slaps me in the face. I guess I’m still in trouble for yesterday. She’s probably been hearing it all night since technically she’s the one who went to bat for me. Still, this reversal of my parents’ usual good cop/bad cop roles is slightly unsettling.