Of course he wasn’t. Her date, a kind but forgettable boy named Tyler, hovered beside her trying to make conversation about the DJ, the decorations, the photo booth. She nodded, smiled when she had to, but none of it stuck. Her mind lingered on the same empty stretch of space near the gym doors. Waiting.
What made it worse was the unfairness of the whole night. Two of the biggest bullies in school, Amber Lockley and Chase Merrill, were practically guaranteed to win prom queen and king. Their names floated around in whispered predictions all week, said with a kind of resigned certainty: