I refused to wear a bloodstained dress to Prom. âNo way,â I told Avery. âIâm not going.â
âPlease, Charlotte,â my best friend implored. âItâs your last chance.â
But I had made up my mind. The event I had spent months looking forward to no longer held any luster. I wasnât going to my senior prom, and nothing Avery said was going to change my mind. But that didnât keep her from trying.
âItâs my one and only time as head of the prom committee,â she said. âIâve put so much work into it. And youâve helped me a ton. I need you there.â
The only things I had helped with included tossing glitter onto neon posters and agreeing with Averyâs choice of table decorations. âSorry.â I shook my head. âItâs not gonna happen.â
She sighed and set down the magazine she had been flipping through, startling Dante, her little dog. It was Friday afternoon, and we were hanging out in her room before dinner. It had become part of my new routine to go to her house after school. Dad didnât return home from the hospital until seven every night, and I didnât like to stay in my house alone.
âWe can get you a new dress, you know.â
I rolled my eyes at the suggestion. Did she really think that was it? That if I bought a new, blood-free dress, everything would be okay? I knew Avery. She was a problem solver and a good friend. She couldnât possibly believe that a sparkling new gown would fix everything that had happened over the past four weeks.
âI wonât be in town that weekend, anyway,â I said. âIâve already made plans to visit Annalise in Charleston. I leave on Wednesday.â
Missing three days of school would have been a big deal to my parents at one point. But Dad agreed that I needed a little time away and heâd worked something out with the principal.
âYou can go to Charleston anytime! There wonât be another senior Prom.â
She was persistent, but I was stubborn. We had reached an impasse, so I tried to change the subject.
âThanks for those history notes. I think I did okay on the quiz today.â
Avery snorted. âI donât understand why they canât give you a pass on those things. You have enough to think about without having to study for pointless tests.â
But I liked studying. It gave me something to focus on other than my mom. And my teachers had given me a free pass for a few weeks. At first, I couldnât even hold a pen because of the stitches sewn into my palm. It hurt too much. So I was allowed to take oral exams and given extra credit work. After my hand finally healed, it was back to my regular class work.
I examined my hand now. The jagged pink scars would be unnoticeable to anyone not looking for them. But I noticed them. Every day I saw them, and was reminded of how they got there.
âHey.â Averyâs voice was soft. âYou okay?â
I closed my hand. âIâm fine.â
It was my standard lie, and Avery wasnât buying it. âIt wasnât your fault. You know that.â
But I didnât know that, despite my friends and family assuring me of my innocence on a daily basis. My careless mistakes had landed both my parents in the hospital. I had endangered my friends.
And I was the reason why a young man now lay in a coffin.
Averyâs phone rang. She shot me an apologetic glance. âProm stuff. I have to take this.â
I walked over to her bookshelf while Avery discussed tiaras with her caller. âWe settled this. I donât want anything tacky, and that one is definitely tacky.â There was a pause. âNo, I said tasteful. A two-foot crown is not tasteful, and I doubt itâll sit right on the queenâs head. Go back to our first choice, okay?â
She sighed and hung up. âSometimes I think we should switch from Prom Committee to Prom Dictatorship.â
I laughed. âAll hail Avery, Queen of the Prom.â
She waved her hand. âPlease. I withdrew my name from the ballot. Iâm not in the running for Prom Queen.â
âReally?â I was surprised. Avery could easily win the votes needed to earn the coveted crown.
âI was Homecoming Queen last year. It wasnât quite the life-altering thrill I thought it would be, and I doubt Prom will be any different. Someone else should win this title, someone who actually wants it.â