The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(44)

I scanned the crowd and found Miller sitting high up in a corner of the gym with Ronan and Holden. Videos captured on cell phones had circulated in the few weeks since Chance’s party. Holden’s tap dance on the Blaylock dining room table was a hit, but his confrontation with Frankie had freaked people out.

“He’s so hot,” Evelyn had lamented a few days after the party. “I don’t get it. He’s got charisma to spare but also, apparently, a death wish. Not to mention, he burned all his bridges with River and Chance, so now he’s relegated to hanging out with your boy and the criminal.”

But Holden seemed perfectly happy with Miller and Ronan. That morning, the three were watching the performance, talking and laughing. An odd trio: a grungy musician, a tattooed bad boy, and a billionaire genius who dressed like he was walking the winter runways in Milan every day. None of whom gave a crap what anyone thought of them.

It had been a long time since Miller had hung out with me as freely.

The cheerleaders finished their routine to applause that echoed throughout the cavernous gym of polished wood.

Principal Hayes took a microphone onto center court. “And now, the Homecoming Chair, Layla Calderon, will announce your Homecoming Court.”

Layla, a gal with long dark hair in a mini skirt and a tight T-shirt, pushed a small rolling table covered with a black cloth to center court. On it were four crowns: two large and two small. She took the mic from Principal Hayes with the practiced ease of a news anchor.

“The votes have been counted and the results have been tabulated. Put your hands together and welcome your Homecoming Prince…Donte Weatherly!”

The crowd cheered, thunderous in the gym. The football team, sitting in a cluster near the front of the assembly in their letterman jackets, whooped and thumped their star wide receiver on the back as he joined Layla on the court and let her put a plastic, sparkly coronet over his brow.

He tried to walk away, but Layla grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. Every prince needs a princess. This year’s Homecoming Princess is…Evelyn Gonzalez!”

A small shockwave went through the crowd that morphed with agonizing slowness into cheers.

I gasped. “Oh shit. Oh no. Poor Evelyn.”

Shiloh’s eyebrows shot up, and she turned to me. “Queen Vi…?”

“What? No. No way. Julia or Caitlin,” I said as Evelyn plastered on a tight smile and made her way from the cheerleader bench to accept her coronet.

Shiloh smirked. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“And now, your Homecoming King,” Layla said and paused for effect.

The football players jostled and teased River, who brushed it all off with lazy amusement.

“River Whitmore!”

The gym erupted in cheers, and I added my voice to the crowd.

“Not a surprise. But I’m still in shock for Evelyn…holy shit.”

“Uh huh,” Shiloh muttered. “You got your speech ready?”

“Oh, stop.”

“And now…” Layla said, quieting the crowd. “It is my pleasure to announce that your Santa Cruz Central Homecoming Queen is…”

The gym went silent, holding its breath. Frankie Dowd shouted into the quiet, “Your mom!”

Laughter followed and a stern shake of Principal Hayes’ head. Layla waited until she had our attention again.

“Violet McNamara!”

I sat stunned, while my friends cheered and clapped and urged me to go down and claim my crown.

“This is nuts,” I hissed to Shiloh.

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Being right all the time is so exhausting.”

A little laugh burst out of me but was smothered when I saw the devastation on Evelyn’s face; she wanted it far more than I did. I hadn’t truly wanted it at all, I realized, and now that I had it, I had no idea what to do.

I climbed over legs to get to the stairs, then made my way down to the court. River grinned at me, a silly faux red velvet and gold plastic crown on his head. Layla placed a smaller version on mine, while I sent Evelyn an apologetic smile. She quickly looked away, her own smile wide and joyless, as she clapped with the rest of the school.

I leaned into River. “How did this happen?”

“Democracy in action. You got the most votes, plain and simple.” His confident smile slipped, and he cleared his throat. “Kind of works out perfect, right? Since we’re going to the dance together.”

“Right. Except…are we still going together?”

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called or anything. Just been busy with practice and games. And…stuff at home.”

“No, of course. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” he said quickly, talking under the cover of Layla reading off a list of the Homecoming Court’s accomplishments that helped land us up there. “I still should have called you. Or texted.”

“I’m not sitting by the phone or anything,” I added, then cringed. “God, that came out all wrong. What I mean is, I’m also busy with studying half the time anyway…”

“I haven’t even seen you at my place.”

“We must be on different schedules.”

“Yep.”

Like in the closet at Chance’s party, conversation with River felt like trudging through mud, getting nowhere.