still undone. I mean, can you say cheater?” Nikki is telling her, face flushed. Bliss laughs.
“Like anyone’s surprised about that.”
“I know!” Courtney interrupts, eager. Like Nikki, she’s traded her formal dress for jeans and a tight, belly-skimming shirt. “So what about you, have you been hiding off with Cameron?”
Bliss giggles. “Maaaybe.” She winks as if she hasn’t spent the last five hours cursing his name. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
I shift, uncomfortable. Bliss has yet to even look in my direction. It’s as if I’m suddenly invisible to her again.
“See?” Nikki nudges Courtney, too hard. “Told you. Kaitlin said you must have gone home, but I knew there’s no way you’d bail on us.”
“Where is Kaitlin, anyway?” Bliss sounds casual, but I see a slight flicker in her smile.
Nikki shrugs, gesturing drunkenly. “Around. Anyway, come say hi to Brianna; she was looking for you and —”
The girls head down the stone staircase to the pool area, out of earshot. Soon Bliss is swallowed into the crowd, and I’m left, stranded on the balcony, alone.
I watch her go, confused.
That’s it? She dolls me up in this outfit, smears on some lip gloss, and then disappears, back to her real friends and their exclusive fun? The confusion shifts to betrayal as I watch her limp over to the crowd and laugh, carefree. The promise to give me Tristan really was nothing more than a shallow, fleeting whim, I realize; some way to make her feel generous and all-powerful. Too quickly, she’s back exactly where she started the night, and so am I.
Some fairy godmother.
I wander to the edge of the patio and gaze down at the scene. The A-list has laid claim to the Moroccan-style furniture near the pool house, while the guys joke around, trying to entertain them. None of the girls are braving the water, I note, keeping their careful hairstyles well away from the chlorine. As I watch, Bliss dances over to Brianna and pulls her into an affectionate hug. They tumble back onto a lounger, gossiping happily.
I turn away.
“I heard they tried to book that band, G-link, but it fell through last-minute.”
Two girls begin to fill their plates nearby, gossiping about various prom dramas. I feel their eyes on me, acutely self-conscious. This is why I’ve never tried crashing these parties before. It’s one thing getting in, but then what?
“Wait, wasn’t Bliss Merino in that exact same outfit?”
I look up. The girls are shooting me glances, whispering loudly. They’re dressed in vintage-style dresses, with armfuls of bangles and red lipstick, and while they may not be part of Brianna’s clique, they’re still seniors, far above me in every way.
I start to blush, but then remember Bliss’s rehearsal in the car. Fake everything.
Forcing what I hope is a bored expression, I look over. “She was,” I say loudly. They stop whispering. I keep going. “She came in the same thing as me, so she changed.”
They pause. “Oh,” one says, but there’s something new in her voice. “It’s a great dress.”
“Really great,” her friend agrees. They look at me with something like respect in their eyes, as if Bliss submitting to my will suddenly marks me out as somebody significant.
“Thanks,” I say, blinking. “I . . . like yours too.”
“Oh my God, you have to try this cake!” The first one is distracted by the food. She takes another bite, licking frosting from her fingers. “Seriously!” They turn to the spread, my supposed fashion showdown forgotten.
But I wonder . . .
Turning, I make my way back inside to where the party thumps in every room. I stroll slowly through the rooms, aware of eyes on me, but this time, I pay more attention to the looks — the girls who graze my body in a quick head-to-toe glance as I pass, the boys whose eyes seem to zoom straight to my chest. I was too self- conscious to notice properly before, assuming that they were the same dismissive glares I’m so used to, but now, I can see I was wrong. These looks are different: tinted with envy, or lust, or admiration.
Nobody thinks I don’t belong.
I stand a little taller, reveling in the attention, when suddenly the music changes, and the room is fuller, packed with people yelling the lyrics as they jump. I slip into the kitchen to escape, knocking into somebody on the way out. “Sorry,” I say quickly, stepping aside.
“No problem.” The guy laughs. “It’s crazy out there!”
I look up and promptly stop breathing.
Tristan.
“Right, crazy,” I echo,