the gym smelled like sweat, cheap perfume, and whatever questionable snacks the PTA had provided. lottie lingered by the snack table, staring at a bowl of pretzels like it held the answers to the universe. she had no idea why she came. the music was too loud, the lights were doing too much, and half the school was grinding like it was a club and not the wiskayok high winter semi-formal.

“you look like you’re mentally arguing with the pretzels,” you say, suddenly beside her, sipping from a solo cup like you were the queen of the whole event (quite frankly putting jackie to shame).

lottie didn’t flinch. “i think they’re judging me.” you laugh, bumping her shoulder. “come on, you’re dressed cute, your eyeliner is perfect, and you’re standing here like you’re in exile.”

“i am in exile,” lottie huffs. “voluntary. strategic.” you rolled your eyes, not out annoyance, just slight irritation. “nope. dance floor. now.”

“hard pass.”

“you can either dance with me or explain to coach martinez why you bailed on team spirit.”

“you’re evil.”

you smirk mischievously. “and you like it.”

lottie groaned but let you drag her into the chaos anyway—already smiling before they even hit the floor.