Riley punches my shoulder. "He's whipped, all right."

I nod my head. "I meant the other part."

“Unfortunately, he’s been rubbing that part in. Not details. Just how hot you make him, that kind of thing. Although he’s not very excited about you may be doing the play. I heard you got called back to read with Jake and Logan."

“I did. Jake and I have good chemistry on stage and Logan seems to kind of hate me, which, really, is perfect for the part. He’s going to pretend to like me just to screw things up for his brother. Getting a callback is exciting, but I still don’t know if I’ll get the part.”

Winning runs in the family.

History

During history, our classroom is paged and I’m called to the office.

Everyone in class goes, Ooooohhhh. Like I did something I’m about to get in trouble for.

As I put my notebook into my bag, my mind starts to go crazy thinking about what I’ve possibly done wrong.

I’ve never gotten in trouble at school.

Except Aiden causing me to be late those two times.

Do they know Dawson sneaks into my room? Do they know we party at Hawthorne House after curfew? Do they know I smoke at the Cave?

I get to the office and say to the secretary, “I’m Keatyn Monroe. You called me out of class?”

Peyton steps out from behind a cubicle. “Oh, that was me. I need your help on some of this after-party stuff. I didn’t think you would mind getting out of class.”

I smile at the secretary, trying to assure her that I wasn’t the least bit nervous.

Peyton loops her arm through mine and says loudly, “We’re going to my dorm so that we can make some phone calls in peace.”

As we walk by the big trophy cases out front, she stops and points at some photos. “These are all the past Homecoming Kings and Queens. Isn’t that cool? I love looking at the dresses and hairstyles and how they’ve changed over the years.”

I study the photos, going back to the early 40s. “They are very cool. I like this dress especially.” I point to the winner from four years ago. She’s wearing a gorgeous but simply cut pale pink gown. “Clarke?” I look at her closer. “Is she related to Whitney?”

Peyton nods. “That’s her older sister, Winnie Clarke. Isn’t she gorgeous? She was captain of the dance team too.” She points at two other photos a couple years further back. “And these are her brothers.”

“So winning runs in the family?”

“Yeah. Part of why she acts like she’s entitled to win.”

“I love her sister’s gown. Is Whitney’s that pretty?”

Peyton laughs. “I guess that all depends on what you consider pretty. Come on. We better get going.”

As soon as we walk out of the building, she says, “I lied. The event coordinator is handling most of the after-party stuff. I thought maybe we could go to my room and look at dresses online. The dress is a big part of the tradition. Did you notice how all the dresses were very subtle? Very classy?”

“Yeah, and I read the flyer with all the rules regarding the dress.”

“Everyone who was nominated is either a cheerleader or a dancer. We’ll change into our dresses right before halftime, but Whitney will wear hers for the entire game. Want to see a picture of Whitney’s dress?”

“Sure,” I say. I’m sure it’s going to be gorgeous.

We get to her room and she pulls up a photo of Whitney’s dress on her laptop. “So this is hers. What do you think of it?”

I look at the dress. It’s a strapless nude-colored gown with a high slit up one leg. The entire bodice down to just above the knee is encrusted with very large multi-colored pastel jewels. Past the knee, the jewels are sprinkled sparsely down the nude colored mesh.

“Wow. It’s, um, pretty bold. It looks more like a pageant dress to me. But it’s hard to tell until you see it on.”

“It’s way over the top. Especially when you consider the way they want us to look. Wait ’til you see mine.”

She clicks the mouse and up pops a photo of Peyton in a fully beaded gown. I can’t help it. I start laughing. “You look like you should be turning letters on a game show, not wearing a Homecoming crown!”

She giggles with me. “That’s why I’m so excited to go shopping with you. I want a dress that’s me. This is not me. And it weighs about ten pounds.”

“I think that’s why Whitney’s choice is such a shock. She dresses so conservatively. I’m surprised she would buy something like that.”

“She said she wants to stand out.”

“You stand out when a dress enhances your beauty. You have to wear the dress. The dress can’t wear you. That’s why so many people choose their Academy Awards dresses wrong. They look at the dress’s beauty, not their beauty in the dress.”

Peyton gives me a mega-watt smile. One that is identical to her brother’s.

“Exactly. That’s exactly what I want.”

She clicks around and shows me some dresses she’s found online. Shows me a list of stores she’d like to go to.

I show her the dress that I ordered last night online.

“Oh, Keatyn, that dress is so you. It’s traditional, but the red is just a little more watermelon and the cutouts on the bodice are a really unique detail. It’s really pretty.”

“Thanks. It’s a brand I’ve worn before, so I have a pretty good idea of how it will fit. I think it’s the one, but I’m going to look this weekend to see if I find anything better. And I need some cute outfits for our dress up days.”

Peyton continues to click around on her computer. I decide to be brave and just ask what I’ve been wondering since the day Whitney called us glitter whores. “So what does Whitney have on you anyway?"

“What do you mean?”

“I just get the feeling that she’s holding something over your head.”

She shakes her head. “I can't tell you. It's horrible. I'm so ashamed of myself."

"At my old school, my best friend was a girl like Whitney. She threatened to tell everyone that my relationship with my perfect boyfriend was a sham because we hadn't had sex yet."

"You didn't want people to know you were a virgin? Why not?"

"Because we dated for a year and a half. Everyone thought we were doing it. She even thought we were until I slipped and told her one day. You shouldn't care, Peyton. If you don't care, then she can't hurt you. She loses her power over you.”

"What she has on me is way worse."

"Tell me. Get it off your chest. I promise you'll feel better."

She squints her eyes at me and sizes me up. "You swear to god that you will never tell anyone?”

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I'll do better than that. I'll pinkie swear." I hold my pinkie up and let her grab it.

"Okay," she says. "So, not long after Cam and I broke up . . .” Her chest heaves.

I can tell she's all torn up about this. Maybe it is worse.

No, I . . . I’m sorry. I can't tell you."

"Tell me. I promise I won't be shocked."

She blurts out, "I slept with a teacher."

My eyes get huge. I can't hide my shock. "I'm sorry. I am shocked. Who?"

She sighs big. “Coach Kline.”

“The hot Assistant Boys' Soccer coach?”

She nods.

“How did that happen?”

“After Cam slept with Whitney and never called, we started dating. We dated for well over a year. Even survived a summer apart. We broke up in October of my sophomore year. I was devastated and it didn’t help that there were stressful things going on at home. So I was crying on the soccer field one day after practice. Coach Kline was nice. He listened. That's how it started."

"Started? So it wasn't a one-time thing?"

"No. It lasted a few months. We didn't sleep together right away. We were sort of friends first. He was single back then and fresh out of college. He’s an alum. Was a soccer stand out when he was here as a student. Played soccer in college. He did his student teaching here and when they offered him a coaching position, he jumped at it. Since then, he’s gotten his Masters and gotten married. He was only twenty-two at the time. And it just went further. I never regretted it.”