“No.”
“Then explain this. Right now.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t drag you to the principal this second.”
He looked at me for a long moment — something unreadable flickering in his face — and then he gently but firmly took the flash drive and the envelope out of my hands.
“Because in ten minutes,” he said, “you’ll understand.”
And before I could stop him, he turned and walked straight toward the stage.
Panic exploded inside me.
I knew exactly how this ended. I’d seen it in a hundred movies and a thousand nightmares. The popular boy. The “different” girl. The big romantic gesture that turns out to be a trap. The whole school laughing while she stands frozen under the lights.
After they laugh.
I went after him.
I pushed past a cluster of girls in sequined dresses, past the photo booth, past the table of corsages. My heels skidded on the polished floor.
Caleb climbed the steps to the platform and leaned in to say something to the DJ.
The music stopped mid-note.
The silence was so sudden it felt like a slap.
Conversations died. Couples stopped swaying. Hundreds of faces turned toward the stage.
On the dance floor, Daisy opened her eyes and looked around, confused.
