The valet notices Cruz’s sling and tries to help her out of the car, but she gives him a death glare and he backs off. “I can’t believe I’m wearing this,” she mutters, pulling at the bottom of the silver strapless dress she borrowed from Lex. “I look like a Disney princess.”

“You look amazing. Don’t be a brat.” I shake out the back of the skirt as she follows Lex up the sidewalk. “And stop bunching up the bottom.”

Cruz tugs on the front of the strapless dress. “The girls are gonna fall out.”

Lex rolls her eyes. “Stop messing with your boobs. We’re going in.”

Cruz looks up at the main clubhouse and stops. “Wow.”

“Wow, like they’re wasting electricity?” Lex fidgets with one of her diamond studs.

“No. Just the regular kind.”

I never thought of this place as wow. It always reminded me of a smaller version of the White House. But witnessing Cruz’s reaction makes it feel like more.

The ballroom is already crowded. Enormous crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, scattering rainbows of light across the ivory tablecloths. The circular tables border the dance floor, and men in black tuxes and women wearing floor-length ball gowns weave between them.

Cruz takes a deep breath, her expression guarded. “I don’t know why rich kids hang out in the Downs getting high and partying when they have lives like this.”

“There are lots of nice things in this room,” Lex says. “But there aren’t many nice people here.”

“If you want to leave, I’ll understand,” I say.

I would if I had a choice.

Cruz eyes a waitress in a white tuxedo, offering guests sushi from a silver tray. As the waitress passes, Cruz nabs a California roll and pops it into her mouth. “I’m good. It’s like being at the zoo, and there’s free food.”

“Speaking of people who aren’t very nice,” Lex says to Cruz, “you’re about to meet one of them.”

Lex’s mom walks toward us.

“Hello, darling. You look gorgeous.” She air-kisses Lex’s cheek. “And, Frankie, it’s wonderful to see you here again. Everyone has missed you.”

Yeah. I’m sure. “Thanks, Mrs. Rivera.”

Mrs. Rivera eyes Cruz. “I haven’t met your friend, Lex. Isn’t that your dress?”

Lex nudges Cruz’s back and pushes her forward an inch. “This is Cruz. She’s a friend from school.”

Her mom flashes Cruz a fake campaign smile. “I see. It’s nice to meet you, Cruz.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Cruz chokes out the words. But her expression says Screw you—something I’ve wanted to say to Lex’s mom, and mine, a hundred times.

“There are several important donors I want you to meet.” Mrs. Rivera loops her arm through Lex’s and leads her away.

Cruz exhales. “What a bitch.”

“Wait until you meet my mother and King Richard.”

She drags her attention away from an ice sculpture of a ballerina in mid-twirl. “If your mom is married to a king, I’m out of here.”

“He just thinks he’s a king.”

“So what kind of charity gets the money from this snob fest?” she asks.

“It’s for scholarships—”

“To college? That’s cool.” A waitress walks by with a tray of crostini, and Cruz takes one.

“Not exactly.” I don’t want to tell her the truth, but she’ll figure it out if she stays at the gala long enough. “The scholarships are for kids to attend the spring and summer programs at the National School of Ballet.”

Cruz drops her crostini on the table next to her. “You’re shitting me. They’re raising money for kids to go to ballet class? Why don’t they give out real scholarships?”

“I don’t know.”

A chorus of giggles erupts near the bar. A group of girls from Woodley loiter at one end, flirting with the bartender and downing champagne whenever they think no one is watching. Katherine Calder—shit poet, student body president, and reigning gossip queen—notices us, and the whispering starts.

“Let me guess. Those are your friends.” Cruz gives them the once-over. Even in a borrowed Cinderella dress and her sling, she still looks intimidating.

“That would be a no.”

Cruz scrunches up her nose and rubs her forehead. “Remind me why we came to this party again?”

“Facing my demons seemed like a good idea.”

She tips her chin toward the bar. “Then you’re in luck. The demons are coming over here.”

Katherine leads the charge, fluttering her fingertips at me. “Frankie. I can’t believe you’re here. We’ve all been worried about you.” Caroline, Hope, and Avery chatter away next to her, ignoring Cruz, who looks like she wishes she could strangle them.

“It’s sooo good to see you.” Katherine smiles, her professionally whitened teeth blinding me.

The old Frankie would be polite. But she’s long gone. “Wish I could say the same, Katherine.”

Caroline, Hope, and Avery stop talking. Cruz looks at me, and breaks into a slow smile.

Katherine’s cheeks flush and she crosses her arms. “If that’s a joke, it’s not funny.”

I put one hand on my hip and tilt my head. “Then I’m lucky it wasn’t a joke.”

Cruz covers her mouth and laughs.

Katherine presses her lips together in a tight line. “If this is about the poem…” She lowers her voice. “Someone had to step up and pay a tribute to Noah. You obviously weren’t going to do it.”

Cruz gathers up her dress, but I hold up my hand, sending her a silent message: I’ve got this. I take a step closer to Katherine. “Noah couldn’t stand you, Katherine. He was tired of catching you in the locker room hooking up with his teammates.”

Caroline and Hope gasp, and Avery’s eyes widen.

The color drains from Katherine’s face, but I’m not finished. “And if you’re planning to major in creative writing next year, you might want to rethink it. Because your poem sucked.”

“You classless bitch,” she hisses. “I bet you fit right in at Monroe.”

Cruz stops smiling and turns on Katherine. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”