“I—I didn’t mean you…” Katherine stammers.

Caroline, Hope, and Avery back away so fast they almost trip over one another. So much for loyalty.

I shoulder my way in front of Cruz and face Katherine. “If your definition of classy is being an epic bitch and hooking up with random guys in the boys’ locker room, I’ll pass.” Katherine’s chin trembles, and I wave at her. “See you around. It was fun catching up.”

As we walk away, Cruz flashes me a conspiratorial smile. “Careful. If you keep scaring stuck-up rich girls, people will think you’re from the Downs.”

“Would that be so bad?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

My cell vibrates and I slip it out of my clutch. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

It’s 10:21—thirty-nine minutes until my debut as a car thief. The call shows up as an unknown number. Deacon.

“Hello?”

“Are you at the country club?” he asks. The sound of his voice makes my skin crawl.

“Yes.”

“I’ll call you back at eleven. Be ready. This isn’t a practice run.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. He doesn’t need one. We both know he has me backed into a corner.

For now.

“Frankie?”

I turn around slowly, dreading the conversation ahead of me.

Mom looks gorgeous in a black strapless Valentino gown. Her hair is arranged in an artfully messy bun that makes her appear even younger.

“Hi, Mom.”

Cruz inches behind her and mouths the word Mom? She points to the nearest empty table and tiptoes toward it.

“It’s so wonderful to see you, sweetheart.” She takes a slow and careful inventory of my ensemble. The red “mall prom dress,” as she called it the first time she saw it, is an affront to my mother’s impeccable taste and completely inappropriate for the occasion. “You look…” She searches for the right word: tacky, vulgar, unsophisticated, tasteless. Which one will she choose?

Mom traps me in a hug. Not the kind that accompanies her air kisses, but an actual, wrinkle-your-dress hug. “You look beautiful.”

When Mom releases me, I’m speechless. My mother doesn’t offer compliments. She provides constructive criticism. She doesn’t like this dress or the color red. And she doesn’t hug.

“How many glasses of champagne have you had, Mom?”

She fidgets with her diamond necklace. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Who kidnapped my mother?

“No, seriously? How many?”

“One.” She sighs and opens her YSL clutch. “I brought you something. I wanted to give it to you in person.” She hands me a folded sheet of heavy card stock.

I unfold it and immediately recognize the Stanford University seal. I hold the letter out to her without reading it. “I’m not interested.”

Mom raises an eyebrow. “Don’t be so quick to judge.”

Okay, I’m curious.

I open it and scan the type. “What is this?” Because it can’t be what it looks like.

“I withdrew your interview request, which had been granted, by the way.” She taps on the letter. “Third paragraph if you need confirmation.”

Richard must have promised to build a new wing on the library to make that interview happen. “Why? I don’t get it.”

Mom brings her hand up to her collarbone and feigns shock. “My daughter made it very clear that she was not interested in attending Stanford or even interviewing there. Do you think I misunderstood her?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “No. I’m pretty sure you got it right.”

She sighs dramatically. “That’s a relief. I really am trying, but I’m not sure if my daughter will give me a chance to prove it to her.”

I can’t remember the last time Mom joked around with me or treated me like anything other than her protégée. Tonight my mother feels like my mom.

“What about Ki—I mean, Richard?” I ask. “Won’t he be upset, since he set up the interview?”

Mom raises her chin. “I’ll deal with Richard.”

“Thanks.” I hug her for real because I love her and she tried, and I’m scared out of my mind. And because she’s my mom.

She kisses the top of my head. “Go have fun. I noticed you brought a new friend.”

“Her name is Cruz. She goes to Monroe with me.”

Mom sends me off toward Cruz like a kid heading off to cotillion.

I check my cell.

10:40.

Cruz is eating maraschino cherries out of a bar glass. “Have you seen Lex?” I ask her.

“Someone else is looking for her, too.” Cruz points a cherry stem at the ballroom entrance.

Abel walks in wearing a tux without a tie or cummerbund, and with the first two buttons of his shirt open. He looks amazing.

Cruz cracks a smile. “Go say hi. I’ll be here until all this netting cuts off my circulation.”

As I walk toward Abel, I catch a glimpse of Lex’s blond hair. She’s on the other side of the dance floor, trapped between two guys jockeying for her attention.

“Hey.” I nudge him. “Are you okay?”

Abel shrugs. “Getting there. I met with a therapist this morning, and my father’s manager rented a storage unit for Dad’s stuff.”

“It’s hard to lose someone you love.”

He glances at Lex. “I almost lost her, too.”

“Lucky for you she doesn’t want to be lost.” I remember telling Marco I didn’t want to get lost. I still don’t.

Abel grins and crosses the dance floor.

When we make it over to Lex and her admirers, he pushes his way past them. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He hooks his arms around Lex’s waist and pulls her close. Abel winks at the guys. “Thanks for keeping her company.”

She smiles at him and rests her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for the rescue—I almost died of boredom.”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I owed you a rescue.”

I check the time.

10:51.

Cruz walks up beside me and I jump. “Your mother just asked me how you’re doing in an urban school setting. Is she for real?”

“Unfortunately.”

Cruz nods at Abel. “How’s it going?”