Roxie took an Uber to homecoming.

Zac had asked twice.

The first message came while she was standing in front of the mirror with one hand pressed against her stomach and Mrs. Robinson’s borrowed dress fitted around her body like it belonged to a girl with a different life.

I can pick you up.

Roxie stared at the message until the screen dimmed.

She wanted to say yes.

She wanted him to see her before anyone else did. She wanted to step out of the house and find him waiting near the curb, leaning against his car in a suit, probably trying to act calm and failing just enough for her to enjoy it. She wanted to sit beside him with the dress gathered over her knees and hear whatever stupid, soft, dangerous thing he would say.

That was exactly why she ordered the Uber.

Arriving with Zac Prescott at homecoming would mean something.

People would see. People would talk. Bianca would hear about it before the first song ended. Kendall would look. Karen would probably bite someone before the crowning.

The second message came a minute later.

Roxie.

She pressed her lips together, then typed back.

I already got a ride. See you there.

His reply came after a few seconds.

Okay. I’ll find you inside.

Roxie set the phone facedown on her bed and looked at herself again.

The dress was deep emerald satin, dark enough to look richer whenever the light touched it. Thin straps rested over her shoulders. The bodice held close to her waist, and the skirt fell smooth over her hips with a slit along one thigh that opened when she walked.

Jovani, Mrs. Robinson had said, like the name alone explained why Roxie had been afraid to breathe near it.

The earrings were borrowed too, small gold drops with green stones that caught beside her hair. Mrs. Robinson had placed them in Roxie’s palm like they were nothing, then added the gold sandals from the closet because apparently borrowed dresses needed borrowed shoes to make the crime complete.

Roxie turned sideways in the mirror.

None of it belonged to her.

The dress. The earrings. The sandals. The shine around her throat. The clean, expensive look of the whole thing.

She felt like a lie.

Then the green satin moved over her waist, the earrings flashed near her jaw, and her legs looked long in the gold heels.

A lie had no right to look this good.

The Uber arrived a few minutes later.

Roxie walked carefully to the curb, holding the dress at one side as she stepped down from the porch. The driver glanced at her through the mirror when she slid into the back seat.

"Homecoming?" he asked.

"Yeah," Roxie said.

"You look nice."

"Thank you."

She looked out the window after that because the compliment made her stomach flip.

The ride passed in short pieces. Streetlights crossed the window. Her earrings flickered in the dark glass. Her phone buzzed twice inside her clutch.

Angela asked where she was.

Karen asked for proof she was alive.

Roxie replied to Karen first.

Almost there.

Angela sent three messages .

Where are you?

Karen is scaring freshmen.

Also please tell me you wore the dress.

Roxie looked down at the emerald satin over her thighs.

She hoped the dress was worth all this nervousness.

When the school came into view, the gym was glowing across the parking lot. Cars lined the curb. Parents dropped students near the entrance. Girls stepped out in glitter, satin, lace, heels, curls, and carefully sprayed hair. Boys stood around in suits, checking their phones and pretending they were comfortable in their clothes.

A black and red banner stretched above the entrance.

HOMECOMING DANCE

Balloons framed the doors. Silver streamers hung from the posts. A table near the entrance held tickets, wristbands, and a plastic tray for voting slips. Teachers stood nearby with clipboards and the tired faces of adults who already expected trouble.

The Uber stopped near the curb.

Roxie inhaled once.

Then she opened the door.

Her first step out was careful because of the heels. The slit shifted as she stood. She caught the door, lifted her chin, and let the dress fall back into place.

A few people looked over.

Then more turned.

A girl near the balloon arch stopped talking. Two sophomores whispered and stared. A group of football players near the entrance looked once, then again. Someone from history class lifted his eyebrows like he had just seen her in a completely new category.

Roxie felt heat rise in her cheeks.

For one second, she wanted to cover herself.

Then she saw how they were looking.

The dress fit.

The earrings shone.

The sandals made her walk slower, which somehow made her look calmer.

Every stare that should have made her shrink gave her another reason to keep her head up.

Roxie adjusted the thin strap on her shoulder and walked toward the entrance like she had planned every second of this.

Angela saw her first.

She stood near the ticket table in a champagne dress with her hair curled over one shoulder. Her mouth fell open before Roxie even reached her.

Karen stood beside her in a black dress with silver hoops and her arms crossed. Her serious expression cracked the second her eyes moved over Roxie.

Both of them went quiet.

Angela pressed one hand to her chest. "Wow."

Roxie slowed, suddenly aware of the thin straps over her shoulders and the emerald satin moving against her legs. "What?"

Angela pointed at the dress. "Is this the New York dress?"

Roxie’s stomach tightened.

The lie sat ready on her tongue because she had practiced it in the Uber, in the mirror, even while buckling Mrs. Robinson’s borrowed sandals around her ankles.

She lifted one shoulder. "Yeah."

Angela stepped closer, eyes bright. "This is the one? From that high-end store?"

"Yeah."

Karen looked her over once, slower than Angela, honest enough to make Roxie nervous. "It looks beautiful."

Coming from Karen, it sounded better than screaming.

Roxie smiled. "Really?"

Angela took both her hands and looked at the dress again. "Really. This looks expensive. Like, actually expensive. What brand is it?"

Roxie forced herself to breathe normally.

"Jovani," she said, like she had bought dresses like this before. Like she knew brands because she had closets full of them instead of one borrowed garment bag hidden at the back of her room.

Angela’s eyes widened. "Jovani?"

Karen’s brows lifted slightly. "That sounds expensive."

"It is expensive," Angela said, still staring at the beading near Roxie’s waist. "How much was it?"

Roxie’s fingers tightened around her clutch.

She could have said she forgot. She could have said it was on sale. She could have made up a number and hoped Angela had no idea what dresses cost.

Instead, she gave a small careless shrug, the kind of shrug she had seen girls like Kendall use when money was something that happened around them.

"I didn’t really care about the price," Roxie said. "I just liked how it looked."

The lie came out smooth.

Too smooth.

For a second, Roxie hated herself for how easy it sounded.

Then Angela let out a soft, dramatic breath. "That is the most rich-girl sentence you have ever said."

Karen studied Roxie for a moment.

Roxie held her gaze, face calm, heart beating too hard under the emerald satin.

Then Karen nodded. "Well, it looks good."

Roxie almost sagged with relief.

Angela circled one finger in the air. "Turn."

"No."

"Turn. We need the full dress."

Roxie rolled her eyes, but she turned once, careful with the slit and the borrowed gold sandals. The earrings flashed beside her jaw. The dress moved perfectly. Even Karen smiled a little.

Angela grabbed her arm. "You look dangerous."

Karen looked toward the gym doors. "She looks like she could win."

Roxie’s smile faltered. "Can we start with getting inside?"

Angela leaned closer, still grinning. "You are so winning."

"People keep saying that like it makes it less terrifying."

Karen touched Roxie’s arm, gentler than usual. "Let them look."

Roxie looked at her.

Karen’s mouth curved. "You dressed for it."

Roxie glanced down at the emerald satin, the gold sandals, the clutch in her hand, the earrings Mrs. Robinson had pressed into her palm like borrowing all of it was simple.

She felt like a lie.

Then a group of girls near the entrance looked over again, and one of them whispered Roxie’s name.

The lie straightened her spine.

Roxie lifted her chin and walked between Angela and Karen toward the gym doors.

The music hit them the second the doors opened.

The bass came first, deep enough to shake the floor, followed by laughter, camera flashes, and the sound of shoes moving over the polished court. The gym had been changed completely for homecoming. The basketball hoops were raised. Black fabric covered the walls in wide panels, and red and silver streamers crossed above the floor. String lights hung from one side to the other, softening the old school banners and the paint on the walls.

A huge Raven cutout stood near the photo backdrop, wings spread behind a cluster of black balloons. Round tables filled one side of the room. The snack table sat near the far corner with cookies, chips, punch, and Mr. Danvers standing guard over the cups like a man who had already seen something suspicious.

Near the stage, the DJ stood behind a folding table with colored lights turning over the dance floor.

The homecoming court area was set near the center wall. A small platform stood there with a red carpet runner, two balloon columns, and a table holding sashes, plastic crowns, and sealed envelopes for later.

Roxie’s stomach tightened.

The crown looked cheap under the gym lights.

It still made her nervous.

Mrs. Delgado stood by the ticket table and handed each of them a wristband. Her eyes moved to Roxie’s dress, and her face warmed with approval.

"Very nice, Roxie," Mrs. Hale said. "Good luck tonight."

Roxie’s cheeks heated. "Thank you."

They stepped fully inside.

People looked.

Roxie felt it from all sides. Girls looked at the dress. Boys looked and then looked away when Karen’s eyes cut toward them. People whispered her name. Someone near the photo backdrop waved them over. Someone else called Angela’s name.

For once, Roxie let herself enjoy it.

She was used to attention, but this was different from hallway gossip. This was entrance attention. Dress attention. Court attention. The kind that made people pause because they wanted to see what she would do next.

Angela linked her arm through Roxie’s. Karen walked on Roxie’s other side, chin lifted, expression sharp enough to make underclassmen move aside.

Together, they crossed the gym.

It felt ridiculous.

It also felt good.

Roxie could feel eyes moving with them. She could hear people whisper. She could see heads turning near the tables, near the DJ booth, near the photo area.

Popular girls walked like this.

That thought made her want to laugh.