Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(77)

By the time I pull up next to the parked security SUV, the high school parking lot is already packed with other cars.

SFE bodyguards begin piling out of their vehicle. The girls all jump out of mine in a fit of giggles over something Winona said.

I wait in the car, watching as they all head into Dalton Academy. A huge banner hangs over the entrance that says Homecoming: Under the Sea!

“Did you go to Homecoming?” I ask Frog.

She fixes her earpiece and adjusts her plain black dress. She looks like she could fit in with the demographic. She’s only eighteen, so it wasn’t so long ago that she was in high school herself.

“Nope,” she says. “Sophomore year, I got in trouble for borrowing some costumes out of the drama room. Instead of getting suspended, my mom made a deal with the administration, and I was banned from attending school dances.” Her face lights up as she sees the banner. “So this is my first.” She turns to me, even happier. “I’m glad you decided to chaperone.”

My heart swells more, satisfied with my choice even if it means putting myself in a situation to be teased. “Me too.”

I grab my umbrella from the backseat. Fairy lights cover it, and it’s draped with fabric like the tentacles of a jellyfish. If I hoist it over my head, I’m somewhat concealed. Though, I know there’s not going to be any hiding from him.

There never really has been.

I smile on my way into Homecoming.





For the most part, not many people actually laugh at me. A few giggles here and there and one jock even gave me a high-five. Not too bad.

In the dimmed gymnasium, I blend with the other glowy décor. Neon and sparkles illuminate the space into an underwater wonderland. Standing near the edge of the basketball court, I’m among the other teachers and PTA moms.

Most of the high schoolers avoid me.

I figure someone probably spiked the punch, and the teens are keeping their distance from the chaperones tonight. Including the jellyfish kind of chaperone.

I linger near the snack table. Not many people have gone for the cupcakes and brownies, too preoccupied with the punch and dancing. Most girls are in purple and green iridescent mini-dresses—their take on a mermaid, I’m guessing—and the boys are in blue suits.

SFE bodyguards are posted closer to the bleachers near their clients, and I wait impatiently for Xander and Donnelly to arrive. My pulse spikes and lowers in anticipation. He’s not my date. I know that, but the logical memo is having trouble being translated to my heartstrings.

Signal lost in the galactic inter-webs.

Cannot compute.

One hand holding the umbrella, I use the other to check my phone.

“I can’t believe he actually showed up,” I overhear and my pulse skips. Young teenage girls who’d been chitchatting around blue-frosted cookies are now fixated on the entrance of the gym.

“Delilah is such a lucky bitch,” a girl says with bitterness.

Xander must be here.

I turn, my fabric tentacles flapping with me. Sure enough, Xander has entered, accompanied by two bodyguards. Gabe is out in front while Donnelly trails behind.

Why is Donnelly wearing my brother’s House Stark shirt? I gifted Xander that tee at a past Christmas, and it’s a little tight on Donnelly.

Xander steps onto the gym floor. He stands out in his red suit among all the purples, greens, and blues.

His neck immediately flushes in anxiety.

Everyone is looking at him. Like a real prince has arrived. Dalton is used to the presence of my famous family, but Xander was somewhat of an urban legend around the halls. Being homeschooled and a bit of a house hermit.

He’s been changing that, though.

I try to wave, to show I’m here. I might be a jellyfish, but maybe I can be a shell if he needs to find home again.

He doesn’t notice me.

A blonde girl in a spaghetti strap lilac dress slinks up to him. That must be Delilah. Her lips are a soft pink with a wry smile that I’m not so sure I’d trust. But my brother seems to relax a little when she takes his hand.

Students begin dancing again.

“I can’t believe she’s touching Xander Hale,” another girl laments near the cookies. “I’d literally die if he held my hand.”

“He can do me.”

“You think he’ll sleep with her?”

I really don’t want to imagine my brother like that, and I’m about to move away from the cookies.

“Didn’t you all hear?” another girl tries to whisper, so I keep still. “Seniors were talking about how Delilah doesn’t even like Xander Hale. She just wants his bodyguard’s D.”

I go cold.

“That bitch,” a girl snaps. “I can’t believe she’s toying with my future husband that way.”

“I know, right? Like if she wants Paul Donnelly, don’t screw with Xander to get to him.”

“Ew, isn’t his bodyguard like thirty?”

“Seniors are cracked. They think they’re sooo old.”

Positive thinking, it’s not like Delilah is making a move on Donnelly. So maybe these girls are wrong. Maybe she really is here for my brother, and she’s not playing him.

I keep an eye on the situation.

Delilah guides my brother into the crowd of dancers, and both Donnelly and Gabe post at the bleachers with the other bodyguards. They’re giving Xander space to feel normal.