Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.

The line for the dance spread from one end of the foyer to the other, and all the way to the cafeteria where the tables were pushed off to the sides of the atrium to make room for the DJ and light set up across the far, brick wall. Homecoming posters were strewn across the walls, and hallway decorations were still in full swing.

The lights were dimmed in the cafeteria as Rosalie approached the payment table. She didn't expect Jamie to pay for her ticket, and so she forked over the money while he was distracted by Blake asking eager questions about his mother from what department she designed for to whether or not he'd be able to set up a coffee date with her to learn more. Rosalie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Blake would try networking at this occasion.

She didn't blame him, though. She also couldn't blame Jamie for falling right into Blake's snare. It was hard to forget what Jamie had mentioned on her balcony, especially after catching hints of it in the way Jamie-Lee flocked to Blake's side despite the impending retribution that was Lennie Pittmen's fury of finding Jamie conversing with the enemy.

Rosalie waited by the balloon archway and looked out at the people who had already arrived. Underclassmen, mostly, but as she scanned her eyes across the tiled floor, she hoped to find a pair of Joanna's combat boots. Alas, she wasn't there yet.

Ray sidled up to her with Juliana in tow. "Looking for someone?" she asked in a low whisper. Rosalie expected her to sound condescending, but she was relieved that Ray understood.

"Maybe," she confessed, grimacing. "Is that bad?"

"No, I don't think so," Ray said, shaking her head. "At least you have a date, though."

"I thought I was your date," Juliana whined. "I bought you a corsage, too!"

Ray lifted up her wrist where the flower was. She rolled her eyes and nudged Juliana with her elbow. "Yeah, whatever. I'm sure you woulda gone with Sami again if he didn't turn out to be gay."

Juliana huffed, hands on her hips as Sami and Isaiah approached from behind. Sami grinned and slapped his hands onto Juliana's shoulders. She leapt in surprise, and moaned miserably as she looked back to find Sami grinning at her.

"Don't worry, Julie, I still think you're gorgeous," he said.

Juliana flushed all shades of red as Ray threw her head back laughing. Rosalie grinned, her chest swelling with happiness. So far so good.

The moment Sami reached for Rosalie—perhaps for a hug, she wouldn't have been surprised—she grabbed him by the hand and twisted him around, dragging him through the balloon archway. He staggered forward, laughing, and was eager to follow along as she dragged their team towards the dance floor. As soon as the two of them started forward, the others followed close behind. Juliana dragged Isaiah along, wedging him between her and Ray.

Rosalie weaseled her way into the crowd, pulling Sami along with her. She could feel her heart starting to race, the spike of energy from being so close to so many people reminding her of that thrill before games. She bounced on her feet, turning back around to Sami with a wiggle of excitement.

"You ready?" she said, voice shaking, adrenaline racing.

"You know I am," he said.

The beat dropped, and they rocked out like they'd never rocked out before. Lights flashed overhead, spreading out in spurts of white light chopping up the motion of Rosalie with her hands in the air, and Sami shimmying his shoulders. He rocked back and bumped his back into Isaiah's chest.

The bass thrummed in Rosalie's chest, her heart pulsing and blood racing with the sensation of clammy skin against her exposed arms, wedged up between Ray and Juliana striking chords on their invisible electric guitars. The ache of Rosalie's bruise from the Homecoming match was nothing compared to the energy fueling her laughter, and her smile when she belted out the lyrics to all her favorite songs.

Her throat burned by the end of the first hour, gathered in a circle of her soccer girls. She stepped out for a drink of water, and in the walk from the dance floor to the bubbler, Rosalie became increasingly more aware of the ache on the back of her leg. She stopped at a table to check the bruise in all its blue and yellow glory.

"Yikes. You should probably give that a rest," she heard someone say from behind. She glanced over her shoulder to where none other than Lennie Pittmen stood, hands tucked in the pockets of his black slacks.

Rosalie lifted her eyes past his slick navy blue dress shirt before rolling them away with a scoff. "It's fine," she said. "Shouldn't you be with Harper?"

"She doesn't like to dance all that much," he confessed, nodding towards the cafeteria windows. The courtyard was packed with students. It was difficult fitting the entire school in the cafeteria anyhow, and it was just cool enough to make standing outside with a jacket comfortable. "Crowds also stress her out. I don't blame her."

"Ah. Well, you should go hang out with her," she said, starting for the bubbler.

She made it to the wall and bent over to drink when Lennie leant against the wall beside her and said, "I just wanted to see how dinner went. With Berry and all that."

"It went fine," she said. "But I'd ask him yourself."

The music dimmed then. Rosalie and Lennie turned towards the DJ stand where Whitney had gotten up on a chair with the microphone to her mouth. She tapped on it so that they were all blessed with the deafening blasts. Rosalie flinched and covered one ear as Whitney started talking.

"Alright!" she shouted, as if she wasn't using a microphone. "It's that time of the night, folks! We'll all be gathering in the auditorium for the grand King and Queen reveal! If all the Kings and Queens could meet the Stud.Co. group in the back, that'd be lovely. See you all in there!"

Rosalie watched as the dancing crowd all separated—the vast majority flocking towards the auditorium. She waited as the Kings and Queens all started in their direction, grouping together with eager smiles on their faces. She didn't find Joanna among them.

She mentioned it to Lennie, he commented, "Homecoming never seemed like her type of gig anyways."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But I feel like she'd be all about anything that has to do with dismantling the patriarchy," she confessed, hands on her hips.

She followed after them, waving to Sami and the others as she went. Ray put her hands to her mouth and shouted, "Oooh! Get it, girl!" only to be punched in the rib by Juliana. They fake-fought until Rosalie was out of view, hand to her face, mortified.

Someone large bumped into her side, and she staggered a bit on her heels. She looked up and found Ashton there. "Hey, no sign of her?" he asked. Rosalie shook her head. "Darn. Well, it was worth the shot. You can walk with me and Hazel if you want."

"Thanks," she said, and she meant it. She hadn't realized what Joanna's no-show would mean for this whole ordeal. She'd forgotten that the Kings and Queens were supposed to pair up. Joanna and Rosalie were likely the only ones who hadn't bothered asking for walking partners.

Hazel was the lead administrative girl in the video club. A common occurrence with Homecoming nominations involved unlikely candidates, and the popular sports members took it upon themselves to make their night incredible. In some instances, it was a chance to improve your social standing, and so walking down the carpet with Ashton was a ticket to potential popularity. Rosalie never once spoke to Hazel, nor did they ever have any classes together, but she'd seen Hazel around with Art Hendrix.

Ashton looped his arm around Hazel's and then reached his other arm to Rosalie. She stared at it for several seconds before complying. They hooked arms at the elbows, and she shared a smile with Hazel as Whitney marched over to get them all in line.

Whitney stopped at the three of them and said, indignantly, "Rose, where's your partner?"

"Partner? What are we, cowboys?" she said, and Ashton laughed.

"Joanna isn't here," he answered for her. Whitney pegged all three of them with a withering glare before moving on. Rosalie could tell an insult was at the tip of that girl's tongue—no doubt thinking, "Joanna's smart to have ditched."

Rosalie resisted the urge to flip Whitney off by convincing herself that it was the Joanna-impulse thing to do.

Ashton Hartwood was a six-foot beast of a man, but thankfully, Rosalie wasn't exactly the shortest girl in the grade. In heels, it felt like she was directly at eye-level with him as he walked her and Hazel forward after the other Kings and Queens.

The auditorium doors were open for them. In rows of two, they walked down the center aisle where students from the dance turned to watch. Spotlights illuminated the walkway, and Rosalie never realized how hot the lights were. She hoped she wasn't sweating. Oh, fuck, now that she was thinking about it, she really did feel like her ears were on fire. She dropped her gaze to her feet as they approached the stage steps. Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip—

Chairs were arranged at the stage, and as they all stepped up and filed down the line, Rosalie claimed the seat beside Hazel. The boys separated to claim the spots behind their chairs, and she glanced away from Hazel's braces-studded smile to where Harper Winters claimed the spot beside her. Rosalie's smile dropped at the stern scowl Harper sent her. She turned away immediately, swallowing hard against the way the lights sucked all the moisture out of her being. Her lips went dry.

It was difficult to see the people in the auditorium until the light crew turned an array of colored lights across the crowd. Whitney was posted at the side of the stage, a microphone stand before her. She cleared her throat into the mic, a subtle warning for the crowd to quiet. The students were frantic, though, because at that moment, music started playing.

Rosalie watched Whitney speak into the mic, but nothing went beyond the stage. They turned off her mic.

"What's happening?" Harper asked, twisting around to look at Lennie. Lennie shrugged.

Cheery piano instrumentals started chiming around the auditorium in time with quick, electric guitar chords. The static in the audio suggested that it was coming off of someone's phone on top of the fact that it was ABBA.

"Fuck," Rosalie groaned, slumping in her seat. She barely covered her eyes before the auditorium doors flung open, and a spotlight swung off the stage to illuminate the figure standing at the end of the auditorium.

The students were on their feet, clapping to the music as Joanna Spencer marched in one foot after the other, stilling at the top of the ramp with her hands up. ABBA started singing, "My my! At Waterloo—Napoleon did surrender—"

Joanna lifted the red rim of her top hat, and Rosalie peaked between her fingers at the sight of Joanna pointing the hat at her before tossing it into the crowd with a kick of her foot.

"Oh yeah! And I have met my des-tin-y in quite a simi-lar way."

As the chords dropped low, Joanna prowled down the center aisle with a flare of her shoulders and a toss of her curled ginger hair. She sidled up to the front row and danced her way towards the side of the stage. The basketball guys were there to dance alongside her, leaping out of their seats and following her as she sashayed back and forth and pulled one of them by the tie. Rosalie put her head in her hands because she could hear Whitney and the other teachers frantic to get the music under control.

"Waterloo! I was defeated—you won the wa—"

The music cut off just as Joanna made it onto the stage, the basketball guys in tow. They all froze, smiling for the camera. Art was at the end of the stage taking photographs until Whitney snatched the camera out of his hands and set it on the stand.

Whitney huffed, grabbed the microphone, and seized control once more. "Boys, if you'd please step off the stage so we can proceed," she said, voice terse.

The basketball guys scattered, leaping from the stage, much to the mortification of the teachers trying to control the audience.

In the bright lights of the stage, Rosalie finally managed to grasp the fact that Joanna was rounding the rows of chairs wearing a suit and tie like most of the other King nominees. She ruffled her hair back as she approached Rosalie's chair, still grinning. The lights glinted off of her cheekbone piercings as Rosalie looked back at her, not quite certain of just how pissed or amazed she was.

Joanna clapped her hands onto Rosalie's shoulders and spun her back around. She just barely caught a glimpse of the same exact fabric from her dress on Joanna's tie, tucked behind a slick black vest.

Joanna pushed her thumbs into the muscle of Rosalie's shoulders. It felt like she was trying to keep Rosalie from running because fuck, if this wasn't the most socially exhausting event of the season. No amount of having her name called onto the field compared to watching Joanna dance to Waterloo down the Bradshaw auditorium aisle.

"Can't say that was in the program," Whitney said with a nervous laugh. The audience whooped, hollered, and whistled. "Let's get on with this. Alright—first up, we've got Mark Villanueva from the swim team and his date—"

Whitney started down the row couple-by-couple. As each name was called, the nominees waved, danced, or struck a pose. Lennie and Harper came before them, and Rosalie hadn't thought about what to do until suddenly Joanna Spencer's name came out of Whitney's mouth.

"—and... her date, Rosalie Mason," Whitney said, and Rosalie was honestly impressed that she managed not to grumble the name.

She stood and took a gentleman's bow. Joanna fashioned a princess wave until Rosalie sat down again. Rosalie tipped her head back to look up at Joanna.

"Where'd you get that tie?" she asked in a whisper as Whitney called Ashton and Hazel forward.

"Asked a favor of Miss Berry," Joanna said, grinning.

At the end of the line, Whitney produced a slip of paper from the stand where she confiscated Art's camera. She came back to the mic and said, "Which brings us to... the grand reveal! This year's Homecoming King and Queen are..."

She slit the envelope and unfolded the results. The colored lights started flashing through the crowd as Whitney smiled, however forced. Oh fuck, Rosalie thought.

"Joanna Spencer and Rosalie Mason!" Whitney said.

Rosalie didn't expect anything, let alone a roar of approval from the crowd. In her haze, Joanna had already leapt around the side of her chair and threw her arms up. She bowed forward, arm swinging into a gentlemen's dab.

Rosalie put a hand to her face, but it left her other hand free for the taking. Joanna took it and yanked her out of her seat. She spun them round until Rosalie turned dizzy, staggering upon Joanna's full stop. She caught sight of Joanna's encouraging gesture, and so she spun in like any rational individual would do. Rosalie was far from rational, though, and when Joanna proceeded to dip her, she thought she might faint.

Panting hard, eyes wide in borderline panic, Rosalie stared up at Joanna. She wasn't sure how, but Joanna had some insane amount of upper body strength to keep Rosalie up. Someone started blasting Waterloo again, and so the entire auditorium was singing.

Joanna sprung Rosalie back up to her feet. As she steadied, she realized that she hadn't seen Joanna this genuinely happy since they were outside of Baskin Robin.

"You really like this, huh?" Rosalie laughed, not bothering to let go of Joanna's hand, no matter how sweaty she was from the nerves.

Joanna let out a deep breath, equally out of air. She laughed and said, "I don't know. I definitely like you, does that count?"

Rosalie thumped her head against Joanna's shoulder, groaning in fake distress. She felt Joanna laugh against her, her arm still wrapped around Rosalie's torso. They separated long enough for one of the Stud.Co. members to disperse the plastic crowns, still holding hands as Joanna fiddled with the tiara on Rosalie's head.

"And... there. Looks fine like that," she said.

"Well, then put yours on," Rosalie said. The auditorium was starting to disperse back to the dance floor as Joanna dropped her crown carelessly atop her head, crooked, tangled in the ginger curls.

Whitney ordered everyone back to the dance floor as Joanna tossed an arm around Rosalie's shoulders. She walked forward, swaying to the beat of Waterloo. Rosalie tried to mimic the dance, kicking her feet in time with Joanna as they headed for the stage steps and after the other nominees back to the dance floor.

They met Rosalie's squad outside of the auditorium foyer. Joanna threw her arms up in the air as soon as Sami and Ray attempted to tackle them. "I'm out," she said, stepping away to leave Rosalie to their ferocious attacks.

Rosalie giggled as Sami squeezed her into a hug and shook her around. Ray tackled them from the side, and soon, Juliana joined in on the group hug. Ray tugged the tiara off of her head and inspected it. "Is this—? This is just plastic," she whined. "Rip off!"

"Nah, I think it's cool," Rosalie said, snatching it back. She stuck it back onto her head with a pout.

Joanna reached over to give her a pat on the top of the head. Rosalie beamed at her, and Joanna merely rolled her eyes. "Right, well, I think we're supposed to do a first dance thing."

"It better be to ABBA or else I'm gonna be pissed," someone said from behind. Rosalie laughed, turning back around to strike him in the chest. Jamie-Lee was there, dodging her attempted murder. "You guys were cute up there," he said.

"Kidding?" Joanna said, arms crossed. She narrowed her eyes at Jamie. "Okay, not kidding. Thanks man."

They bumped fists on it. Their solidarity settled Rosalie's decision. "I don't want to do a first dance," she said. "I just want to dance with everyone."

"Sounds good to me," Joanna said, hands on her hips. She nodded to Jamie-Lee before starting ahead, heels clicking. "See all you losers over there. I gotta have a drink."

"Water, right?" Ray asked, skeptically. Joanna turned around long enough to reach past the peacock-printed cloth in her breast pocket. She had a silver flask in there. "As if that stunt you pulled earlier wouldn't get you suspended!" Ray shouted after Joanna.

Joanna flipped them off on her way to the women's bathroom, orange curls bouncing. Rosalie watched after her as Ray cursed at her and started to drag Juliana away from the scene. She called out for Rosalie to hurry up—the last thing they wanted was for Joanna's drinking to get them all suspended from the team. Rosalie looked away from Joanna long enough to realize that Jamie had been watching her with a knowing smile.

"Shut up," she muttered, pushing him ahead. He laughed, insisting that he wasn't doing anything. Sami was there to confirm that yes, Jamie had been doing something. They battled it out as Rosalie urged them all to the cafeteria and back to the center of the dance.

The soccer girls were waiting for them, still screeching over two of their players winning Homecoming Royalty. Rosalie handed the tiara around. It didn't feel like hers. It felt like all of