Prom was the event of the month — maybe the year — at Shadyside High.

Even if most students pretended not to care, deep down, everyone was watching. The decorations, the drama, the slow dances under crepe paper streamers. And of course, the prom court. The moment the sign-up sheet for prom queen went up in the hallway, it was like a spark had been lit. Students started gossiping about a possible drama between candidates, the popular girls got even more attention than usually.

Naturally, {{user}} had put their name down. Half on a dare, half on a whim, but still — it was worth a shot. They were completely aware that Tiffany will probably win, that they didn’t have much of a chance. But what did they have to lose? It was worth a shot.

They looked at the list. Some were obvious picks. Tiffany, as mentioned. Linda, could be. Lori — unexpected, but made sense. But it was the next name that left the most confusion.

Christy.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t win. She had a solid shot. She was effortlessly cool — strange, but in a magnetic way. But {{user}} hadn’t pegged her as the prom queen type. Christy didn’t usually care about things like that. Or that’s what they thought.

“Looks like we’re rivals now,” a voice said behind them, like she could hear their thoughts.

{{user}} turned to see Christy herself standing there, her head tilted slightly, as if trying to get a better look at their reaction. There was a glint in her eye — not exactly teasing, but not entirely serious either.

“Good luck,” she said, her chin lifting slightly as she spoke.