“I’m up, I’m up,” I say, dropping my arm over my eyes. Jayla groans from the other bed. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s only eight a.m. “Why am I up, though?” I moan. The only time I willingly get up early on a Sunday is for string quartet . . . and this is not that.

“Because VIP hours start at eight thirty, and your mother and I decided that you will be helping us with that today, thanks to that stunt you pulled. God, Jubilee, what were you thinking? You know better than that. I trusted you to be where you said you were going to be.”

Trust. Vera is huge on trust, and I definitely feel a little bit bad that she sees this as a violation of that . . . but also, come on. “I didn’t go far, and Jayla knew where I was. I was being safe!” I push up onto my elbows. There are feathers and streaks of makeup on my pillow, and I don’t even want to imagine what I look like right now.

Last night, I collapsed into my bed and fell asleep after spending an hour being lectured about everything, even though Jayla was still up watching American Murderer. We didn’t even have time to dissect my speed date with Bats or the fact that—judging by the crown she came home with—she definitely won prom queen . . . and we probably won’t until the car ride home either. Not if my parents keep this up all day.

“Safe? Safe is not wandering around a casino full of drunks by yourself late at night.”

“I wasn’t alone!”

“Oh, you think leaving with a strange boy makes it better?” Vera asks, turning to face me, and I realize my mistake too late. “Do you know how badly that could have gone for you last night? You just happily followed some rando out to a deserted hotel lounge! You could have been killed!”

“I said I was sorry.” I groan, flipping the blankets back and storming into the bathroom. “What else do you want me to do? It was a bad decision. I get it!”

I slide the door shut and flip the shower on, hoping Vera will take the hint. A solitary feather still clings stubbornly to my eyelid, and it dangles in my line of vision with every blink. I pull it off and set to work wiping off the smeared green eye shadow, which is currently making me look like some kind of disco panda or something.

I step under the spray of the shower, trying to shove out the thoughts of how badly the night ended in favor of how well it began. Bats was so cute and nervous, and I’ve always had a weakness for dimples.