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Then prom night came, and I realized how wrong I’d been about everything.
He would close the screen with a calm little click.
Mason had come alone. Not a single girl had agreed to go with him.
He sat now at a corner table in a navy suit, slowly stirring a cup of punch he was not drinking.
Near the snack bar, I caught the flash of a sequined silver dress.
Brielle — the cheerleading captain. I had heard the gossip from other parents in the bleachers all season. Brielle this, Brielle that, Brielle who could ruin a reputation with one Instagram story.
She glanced toward Mason’s table, then leaned in to whisper something to the girls beside her.
I couldn’t have imagined what would happen moments later.
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