Chapter 1 — The Emerald Disaster

Mia

The first rule of prom night—at least, according to me, Amelia Carter—was simple: everything had to be perfect. My emerald dress hung on the back of my closet door, catching the soft glow of the fairy lights strung around my room. It shimmered like a promise, or maybe an expectation. Either way, I was determined to live up to it.

I stood in front of the mirror, carefully sliding the matching emerald hairpin into place. The pin was intricate, a vine-like design that almost looked alive when the light hit it just right. My hair was sleek and straight, not a strand out of line. My makeup, light but deliberate, highlighted my hazel eyes without looking overdone. Jason loved when I looked “natural.” I stared at my reflection: the sharp jawline, the dress that hugged every curve just right. Perfect.

Almost.

The hairpin caught the light as I adjusted it one final time, the emerald gleaming like a tiny beacon of control. I exhaled slowly, trying to let the tension in my shoulders dissipate. Everything was in place. Everything was supposed to go to plan.

I reached for my phone, the screen lighting up with a photo of Jason and me from last summer. His arm was around my shoulders, my head tilted just so, the golden hour sunlight making us look like we belonged on a magazine cover. We looked... happy. My chest tightened as I stared at the image, and my fingers hovered over the screen, tracing the edges of his smile before a buzz broke me out of my thoughts.

Jason: *Hey, Mia. I need to talk to you about tonight.*

My stomach sank. Jason never sent cryptic texts. He was straightforward, always the one with the plan. I tapped the message, my pulse quickening. Maybe he’d forgotten his boutonniere, or his tux didn’t fit right. Something fixable. Something small.

Jason: *I can’t do this. I’m sorry.*

The words blurred on the screen. My stomach dropped, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My fingers tightened around the phone.

*What does he mean, he can’t do this?* My thoughts scrambled for an explanation, anything that made sense. I typed back quickly, my fingers trembling as I fought to keep them steady.

Me: *Jason, what’s going on?*

The three little dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then nothing.

I stared at the screen, willing it to light up again. My chest tightened, my breath coming shallow and uneven. The floor felt like it tilted beneath me, and I reached out to steady myself against the edge of my desk. My hand brushed the edge of the hairpin, and I adjusted it instinctively, as if holding onto that tiny piece of perfection might keep the rest of me intact.

My mind raced, flashing through unbidden memories—Jason laughing as he spun me around at the summer carnival, Jason leaning in to kiss me after our last debate team victory, Jason promising that prom would be our “perfect night.” Perfect.

Had I done something wrong? Missed something? I combed through every moment, every conversation, every tiny thing I could’ve done differently. A familiar ache settled in my chest, hollow and heavy all at once.

“Mia!” Jake’s voice called from somewhere downstairs. “Did you eat the last Pop-Tart again?!”

The sound jolted me, grounding me just enough to loosen my grip on my phone. I turned back to the mirror, but the girl staring back at me looked different now. My makeup was still flawless, my hair still perfect. But the confidence I’d spent all day building had vanished, replaced by a hollow ache.

I stumbled out of my room, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor as I made my way downstairs. The faint smell of pizza lingered in the air. Jake was sprawled on the couch, still in his pizza delivery jacket, one hand buried in a bag of chips. The TV was playing some superhero movie I vaguely recognized, the kind with explosions every five seconds.

“Whoa,” he said, sitting up as I entered. “You look like a Disney villain in the best way possible. What’s with the face, though?”

I sank onto the other end of the couch, clutching my phone. “Jason bailed.”

Jake blinked at me. “Like... canceled? On prom night?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the “p” as if that would make it hurt less. “Said he ‘can’t do this.’” I made air quotes, my voice thick with sarcasm. “Very specific. Very helpful.”

Jake whistled low. “Ouch. That’s cold, even for a guy like Jason.”

I shot him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, tossing a chip into his mouth. “I mean, come on, Mia. He’s like a cardboard cutout of a boyfriend. All charm, no depth. You could do better.”

“Thanks, Jake. That’s super helpful right now.”

Jake put the chips aside and turned to face me, his expression softening. “Okay, but real talk—what are you gonna do? Just sit here and cry into your fancy dress all night?”

“I wasn’t planning to cry,” I muttered, though the lump in my throat suggested otherwise.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jake leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Here’s what I think. You’re gonna get up, fix your face—though, honestly, it still looks good—and we’re gonna salvage this night.”

I raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah, we. I’m not letting my big sister mope around while everyone else is out having the time of their lives. You’re too cool for that.”

I snorted. “Cool? Me?”

“Underneath all the stress and ‘type-A’ vibes, you’re, like, semi-cool. Maybe even fun. On a good day.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. Jake had always had this way of cutting through my worst moods with his ridiculous humor.

“Okay, genius,” I said. “How exactly do we ‘salvage’ this?”

Jake grinned, pulling out his phone. “Simple. We find you a new date. Or, you know, just someone to hang out with who’s not a complete tool.”

I stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“And who, exactly, do you think is going to agree to be my last-minute prom date?”

Jake tapped his phone, scrolling through what looked like his contacts list. “Let’s see... how about Drew Martinez? He’s smart, polite, and single. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s had a thing for you since sophomore year.”

“Oh my God, Jake.” I buried my face in my hands. “This is insane.”

“Insane? Yes. Fun? Also yes.” He stood, grabbing his car keys from the coffee table. “C’mon, Mia. Worst case scenario, we get ice cream and people-watch. Best case, you have an amazing night and forget all about Mr. Can’t-Do-This.”

I hesitated, glancing down at my emerald dress. The thought of staying here, stewing in my disappointment, felt unbearable. And as ridiculous as Jake’s plan was... maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t have to let this ruin everything.

“Fine,” I said, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you forever.”

Jake grinned, throwing on his pizza delivery jacket over his hoodie. The faint smell of oregano and melted cheese wafted toward me, an almost comical contrast to my polished look. “Deal. Now let’s go. Adventure awaits.”

As I followed him out the door, the cool evening air hit my face, carrying the faint smell of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. It cleared some of the fog in my mind. A strange mix of dread and curiosity welled up inside me. The night wasn’t going according to plan—not even close. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t the worst thing after all.