“Yeah,” he said, handing me back my ID. “Have fun.”

“Thank you very much,” I said as I pulled open the door, unable to believe it had been that simple. I walked inside and looked around. I suddenly felt like I had a giant UNDERAGEsign above me, that it was clear to everyone there that I’d never been in a bar before and didn’t know what I was doing.

I took a few tentative steps in. I could see a small stage—more like a raised platform than anything else—along the back wall. There were booths on both sides of the room, and waitresses walking around with trays. And opposite the stage was a bar, with stools surrounding it, only half full. This wasn’t like the bar that was part of the country club where I’d worked, where I could grab the soda gun and refill the Cokes and Sprites my tables ordered. That had pretty much been a long counter with a harried guy named Marty working behind it, making what seemed like an endless stream of gin and tonics. This was different. The surface was polished metal, and the shelves of liquor stretched up almost to the ceiling, and each shelf seemed to be lit with its own blue light.

I drifted a little closer to the bar, not sure what to do. Since the band wasn’t on yet, I felt like I had to do something—I couldn’t keep standing in the doorway all night, especially if I wanted to be inconspicuous. But the bar was so much more intimidating than I’d realized it would be. And did I even order from it? Or was I supposed to flag down one of the waitresses with trays?

“Watch yourself, hon,” one of the waitresses said as she passed me, and I stepped quickly out of the way. I let out a shaky breath and walked up to the side of the bar that had the fewest people sitting around it, then climbed up onto a stool and rested my purse on my lap. I wasn’t sure what happened now, but at least I wasn’t standing in the way.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender, who had floppy blond hair and a V-neck T-shirt with an extremely deep V.

“Oh,” I said, glancing up at the blue shelves of liquor, like I was actually considering getting something up there. “Diet Coke, please?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “With rum?”

“No!” I said, more vehemently than I meant to. “I mean, just, you know. Neat. Straight. Plain.” I was just tossing around words I’d heard people use in movies when they were in bars, hoping one of them would make sense to this guy.

“Sure thing,” he said, grabbing a glass, filling it up with a soda gun, and sliding it across the bar to me. “That’s five.”

I blinked at this, surprised, since I’d never paid that much for a Diet Coke in my life. I slid a five across the bar at him, but a moment later had another mini panic. You were supposed to tip bartenders, weren’t you? I had no idea how much. After a moment, I slid another five across the bar, and he picked it up.

“Thanks, love,” he said, pocketing it with a smile. “I’m Jared, by the way.  You live around here?”

“I’m Penelope Entwhistle,” I said immediately, and probably too fast, since he looked a little taken aback. “I’m from Reno?”

The guy nodded. “Nice,” he said. “The Biggest Little City in the World.”

I smiled like this meant something to me, wishing I’d done my Reno research before trying to pose as a native. I took a sip of my five-dollar Coke and pulled out my phone, wondering when I could leave, when this would have met Sloane’s criteria and satisfied her list. Surely she didn’t expect me to be here all night, did she? I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to afford it, if every drink was going to cost me ten dollars.

A blast of reverb sounded from the other end of the bar, and I saw three skinny guys had taken the stage, dragging on their amps and looking winded. “Hey,” one of them said, wincing at the microphone’s feedback. He had curly blond hair and a guitar slung around his neck. “We’re the Henry Gales. Thanks so much for having us.” The drummer counted off  “One, two, three, four,” and they launched into a somewhat shaky first few chords before they found their rhythm.

I realized after half a verse that I knew the lyrics, could anticipate what was coming next. It took until the chorus for me to recognize that they were playing “Truth in the Dark,” a song that had been on Frank’s last running mix. And though I hadn’t admitted it to Frank, I actually really liked the song, and found myself mouthing the words of the chorus along with the band. I picked up my phone and took a picture to show Frank later. I knew I could have texted it to him, but I had a feeling that would lead to lots of questions I didn’t really want to answer at the moment, questions like Why are you in a bar?

I felt myself lean back into my chair, taking a sip of my Diet Coke, realizing with some surprise that this might actually be fun.

An hour later, the band had announced the end of their set after a drum solo that had gone on just a little too long, and I felt like I’d be more than able to cross Penelope off the list. I nodded at Jared as I slid off my stool and headed toward the door, the last song they’d played—I was pretty sure it was about Kansas, though the lead singer could really have worked on his enunciation—repeating in my head. I was making my way toward the exit when I noticed a blond girl near the doorway, talking to one of the waitresses. They were both looking at me. I glanced away, figuring that maybe their eyes had just landed on me for a second, but when I looked back, they were both still staring. And now the waitress was pointing directly at me.

My heart started to thud, and it was like all the other times I’d been scared in my life had just been for practice, because this was the real thing. Somehow, someone had found out that I was underage, and I was going to get hauled into jail. It would go on my permanent record, and then I’d never get into college—

The blond woman nodded and started walking right toward me, and I realized that I only had a tiny window to make it to the door, so I hustled across the room as fast as I could in my dress and heels. I had just stepped outside, the bouncer looking up at me, when I heard someone yell, “Hey! Penelope!”

Even though I probably should have just kept walking, I turned around and saw the girl was standing right behind me. This was actually happening. This was real.

She was petite, with long hair and a heart-shaped face, which didn’t seem to fit with the angry scowl she was currently directing right at me. “You thought you’d get away with it, didn’t you?”

“Look,” I said, taking another step away, feeling how wobbly my ankles were in the heels. “I’m really sorry. I just didn’t—”

“You didn’t think I’d find out?” She was suddenly right there, in my face.

“Find out what?” the bouncer asked, standing up, suddenly seeming more huge than ever. I braced myself for it, for her to tell him that I was underage, that they should call the cops.

“This is the skank who’s been hooking up with Jared.” I was so relieved to hear this that I felt myself smile, which I realized a second later, had really not been the right reaction. “You think something’s funny?” she asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “Nothing. I’m just—that’s not me.”

“Jared has been cheating on me with some skanknamed Penelope,” the girl yelled. “I know it. I’ve checked his phone, you know.”

“Not that Penelope,” the bouncer said, surprising me—and the girl, judging by her reaction. “That Penelope’s got, like, really big hair.”

“Carl,” the girl said, sounding crestfallen. “You knewabout this?”

I took my opportunity to leave and hurried down the street, my heart still pounding hard, but not with fear this time. It was more like I could feel adrenaline coursing through my body as I headed toward my car. I had done it. I had gone to a bar and ordered drinks and been mistaken for a skank and almost gotten into a fight. It all felt strangely triumphant, and the only thing I wanted to do was tell someone about it. I pulled out my phone as I crossed the lot to the Volvo, texting as I walked.