Chapter 1 — Prom Plans Unravel

Claire

The text comes through just as I’m fastening the clasp on my pearl locket, its delicate weight settling against my collarbone. The engraved words—“Be your own light”—glint under the glow of the vanity bulbs, a mantra I wish I could embody right now. My phone buzzes on the table, its vibration rattling against the glass surface. Jake’s name flashes on the screen. My stomach twists—not the good kind.

I swipe to open the message, my breath catching.

Jake: _Hey, Claire. So, uh… don’t hate me, but I think it’s better if we don’t go to prom together tonight. I’m going with Cassidy instead. Sorry._

Sorry. _Sorry?_ That’s all he has to say? My chest tightens, the weight of the locket suddenly suffocating. I read the message again, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less cruel. Jake Reynolds, my boyfriend of nearly a year, the guy who was supposed to be standing by my side tonight, has ditched me. For Cassidy Peters. Cassidy, with her perfect bubblegum-pink manicure and her obnoxious toothpaste-commercial laugh.

A sharp sting pricks behind my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not yet. I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening, as my reflection stares back at me from the mirror: hazel eyes wide, chestnut-brown waves cascading over my shoulders, the pastel blue dress shimmering like a fairytale. I look exactly like the girl who has it all together.

Inside, I’m falling apart.

The door to my room bursts open, and Maddie storms in, a whirlwind of lavender hair and energy. She’s holding a pair of silver heels in one hand and a tube of lip gloss in the other. “Okay, Claire, are we going glossy or matte? I’m thinking—” She freezes mid-sentence, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing as they zero in on my face.

“What happened?” she demands, dropping the heels and gloss onto my bed as she strides over.

I can’t speak. Instead, I hold up the phone, the screen still glowing with Jake’s betrayal. Maddie snatches it from me, scanning the message. Her expression darkens.

“Oh, hell no,” she mutters. “He did not just—”

“Oh, he did,” I say, my voice cracking despite my best effort to sound composed. “Prom starts in three hours, Maddie. Three hours. And he—he just decides to—” My voice falters again, and I press my hands over my eyes, careful not to smudge the makeup I spent an hour perfecting.

Maddie doesn’t hesitate. She pulls me into a side hug that smells faintly of vanilla and hairspray, her voice firm and steady. “Okay, first of all, screw him. Second, you don’t need that golden-haired Ken doll to have an amazing night. And third”—she pulls back, her hands planted on her hips—“we’re going to fix this. Right now.”

I blink at her. “Fix it? Maddie, how? Everyone knows I was going with Jake. If I show up alone, I’ll look—”

“Like a total boss who doesn’t need some airhead jock to validate her?” Maddie offers.

“Like a loser,” I finish, my voice flat. “You don’t get it. Prom is supposed to be perfect. Everyone’s going to talk about this.”

“Oh, please. This town thrives on gossip no matter what you do,” Maddie retorts, flopping onto my bed. Her lavender pixie cut glints under the vanity lights, a reminder of how effortlessly bold she is—everything I’m not. “Claire, you cannot let some overgrown golden retriever ruin your night. Who cares what people think?”

“I care,” I snap, sharper than I intend. Guilt immediately bubbles up, but Maddie doesn’t flinch. She simply studies me, exasperation softening into something closer to sympathy.

After a beat, she sits up straighter. “Fine,” she says, her tone measured. “If you’re so worried about appearances, then we’ll find you a new date. Someone completely unexpected. Someone who’ll make people forget all about Jake freaking Reynolds.”

I let out a dry laugh, devoid of any real humor. “Like who? Every decent guy already has a date. And I’m not about to beg someone just to save face.”

Maddie’s lips curl into a sly grin. “Oh, you won’t have to beg. I have the perfect backup plan.”

I raise an eyebrow. “This should be good.”

She hops off the bed and grabs her phone, scrolling with purpose. “Luke Carter.”

“Luke Carter?” The name feels foreign on my tongue. “The quiet guy from science class? The one who’s always sketching in his notebook?”

“Exactly.” Maddie’s grin widens. “He’s sweet, he’s low drama, and I guarantee you he doesn’t have plans tonight. Plus, he’s totally into you.”

“What? No, he’s not.”

“Oh, please. He’s been doodling you in that sketchbook for, like, years. Trust me, this is a win-win. You get a date; he gets the chance of a lifetime. Everybody’s happy.”

I stare at her, torn between disbelief and the creeping edge of desperation. The idea of showing up with Luke Carter—the quiet artist who barely speaks in class—feels absurd. But so does the idea of staying home while Jake and Cassidy parade around like prom royalty.

Maddie leans forward, her voice softening. “Claire, listen. You don’t have to let this ruin your night. Take a chance. Do something unexpected. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

I glance at my reflection, my locket catching the light. _Be your own light._ Maddie’s right. I can’t let Jake take this from me.

“Fine,” I say finally, the word feeling foreign but oddly satisfying. “Let’s do it.”

Maddie’s grin is triumphant. “That’s my girl. Now grab your purse—we’re going to the art room.”

*

The halls of Riverside High are eerily quiet this late in the afternoon, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. My heels click against the linoleum as Maddie strides ahead, her energy uncontainable.

When we reach the art room, I hesitate at the door. Through the glass window, I see Luke sitting at a desk, his head bent over a sketchbook. His black hair falls into his eyes as he works, the pencil moving in smooth, deliberate strokes. The room is a mess of creativity—paint splatters on the floor, charcoal smudges on the tables, half-finished canvases leaning against the walls.

Maddie nudges me. “Go on. He doesn’t bite.”

Swallowing hard, I push the door open. The scent of paint and pencil shavings greets me, sharp and earthy, a stark contrast to the floral perfume I’d sprayed on earlier.

Luke looks up, startled but not annoyed. His dark brown eyes meet mine, a flicker of curiosity sparking in them.

“Hey, Luke,” I say, my voice coming out shakier than I intended. “Um, do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” he says softly, setting his pencil down. His voice is quiet but steady, like he’s not used to being interrupted but doesn’t mind.

I glance back at Maddie, who’s mouthing, _Go on!_ from the doorway. Taking a deep breath, I turn back to Luke.

“So, here’s the thing,” I begin, cringing internally at how awkward I sound. “Jake… bailed on me. For prom. And I was wondering if—if you’d want to go. With me.”

For a moment, silence stretches between us. My heart pounds in the pause, my nerves threatening to unravel.

Then Luke smiles—a small, genuine smile that catches me off guard. “Yeah,” he says simply. “I’d like that.”

Surprised, I blink. “Really?”

“Really.” He reaches for something on the desk—a small corsage made of silk flowers. “I was working on this earlier. I wasn’t planning to go, but… I guess now I have a reason.”

He holds it out, and I notice a single petal painted with intricate detail—a tiny, perfect sketch of a smile. My smile.

The gesture feels too intimate, too personal. I mumble a quiet “Thanks” and tuck the corsage into my purse, avoiding the flutter in my chest. Tonight isn’t about feelings.

And yet, as we leave the room, Maddie practically vibrating with excitement, I can’t help but wonder if Luke Carter might surprise me.