Amber''s fingers tighten around the baseball bat until her knuckles match her French manicure. The pool lights catch on Lisa''s Wonder Woman costume, turning the cheap polyester into something that almost passes for silk. Almost. Like everything about Lisa Chen—almost good enough, almost worthy, almost belonging.


    The world narrows to a single point: Lisa''s hand on Nate''s arm, her fingers pressing little half-moons into his costume. Each laugh that bubbles up from her throat feels like a personal assault, like someone keying a Bentley just to watch the paint scratch.


    "Amber." Hannah''s voice comes from somewhere far away. "Don''t."


    A memory surfaces through the rage—her father''s voice, smooth as aged scotch: "Rosenbergs don''t lose control, princess. We orchestrate." She''d been six, throwing a tantrum over some perceived slight at a charity gala. He''d knelt down, straightened her party dress, and taught her the first rule of their world: "Power isn''t in the punch. It''s in making them punch themselves."


    Amber forces her grip to relax, letting out a breath that tastes like expensive vodka and careful calculation. "Here," she says, passing the bat to Hannah with a smile that would make sharks nervous. "Hold this."


    She approaches them like she''s walking a runway, each step precisely measured. Lisa sees her first, and something flickers across her face—recognition of the coming storm.


    "Amber!" Lisa''s voice is bright, practiced. The kind of tone you perfect when you''re trying to prove you belong. "Your costume is amazing."


    Nate holds out one of the red cups. "Got your drink, princess."


    But Amber''s focus has already shifted, like a sniper finding their target. "Lisa Chen." She lets the name roll off her tongue like she''s sampling wine she knows is beneath her. "Can we talk?"


    "I should probably—" Lisa starts, but Amber''s already hooked her arm through Lisa''s, steering her away from Nate with the kind of gentle force that brooks no argument.


    "You know," Amber begins once they''re by the pool''s edge, her voice carrying just enough to draw a small audience, "I''ve been thinking about your college essays. All those personal statements about... what was it? ''Straddling two worlds''? Very touching."


    Lisa stiffens beside her. "Amber—"


    "No, really. It''s inspiring. Your parents'' little restaurant, all those nights helping with takeout orders, dreaming of something... bigger." Amber''s smile is razor-sharp. "But here''s the thing about dreams, Lisa. Sometimes they make us forget where we belong."


    "I belong wherever I choose," Lisa says, but there''s a tremor in her voice that makes Amber''s smile widen.


    "Do you? Because from where I''m standing, it looks like you''re choosing to get very... friendly with my boyfriend." Amber reaches into her costume, producing her phone like she''s drawing a weapon. "And speaking of choices..."


    "What are you doing?" Lisa''s voice has lost its careful brightness.


    "You know, it''s funny. Nate''s always been terrible about checking his Snapchat. Leaves it for days sometimes." Amber''s fingers dance across the screen. "So when a certain... message came in last week, well. Let''s just say I was being a good girlfriend, making sure he hadn''t missed anything important."


    The color drains from Lisa''s face. "You didn''t—"


    "Oh, but I did." Amber holds up the phone, the screenshot casting a harsh glow between them. Lisa''s breath catches as she sees herself on the screen—a private moment never meant for public eyes. The accompanying text makes her stomach drop: "For your eyes only, Nate ??"


    "That—" Lisa''s voice cracks. "I never sent—"


    "Really?" Amber''s laugh is crystalline, designed to carry. "Because it came directly from your Snapchat to his. At 2 AM last Tuesday, to be exact." She leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What''s wrong? Didn''t think anyone would see it before him? Didn''t know I check his phone while he''s at practice?"


    Tears glitter in Lisa''s eyes, catching the pool lights like discount diamonds. "Nate and I... we were just talking about college applications—"


    "Save it." Amber''s voice hardens. "A naked selfie is hardly academic advisement, Lisa. Did you really think he''d leave me for you? That one little picture would make him forget who he belongs with?" She holds up the phone like a weapon. "You have exactly thirty seconds to leave this party before this becomes everyone''s favorite group chat topic. And trust me, college admissions officers check social media these days."


    "You wouldn''t."


    "Try me."


    The silence stretches between them like designer silk, ready to tear. Then Lisa turns, her Wonder Woman costume suddenly looking like the cheap costume it is, and flees toward the house.


    "Lisa, wait!" Nate''s voice cuts through the night. Before Amber can react, he''s brushing past her, following Lisa''s retreating form.


    For the first time all night, Amber''s perfect composure cracks. Because this isn''t how it''s supposed to go. Because Nate Brooks is supposed to be hers, completely and irrevocably. Because the crown she''s worn since birth suddenly feels heavier than all her family''s expectations combined.


    And as she watches Nate''s green hair disappear into the darkness after Lisa Chen, Amber Rosenberg learns a lesson her father never taught her: Sometimes the most painful wounds are the ones we inflict on ourselves.


    Hannah materializes at Amber''s side, swaying slightly. "What did you say to her?"


    "Just—" Amber blinks, the world tilting a bit. "Just reminded her about boundaries." She grabs the baseball bat from Hannah''s hands, nearly missing. "Thanks for... yeah."


    The hallway seems longer than it should be as Amber makes her way through it, her Harley Quinn boots not quite hitting the ground where she expects them to. Through the front door''s glass, she watches Lisa''s car swerve slightly as it pulls away. Nate stands in the driveway, his Joker makeup smeared, green hair wild, looking like chaos personified.


    "LISA!" His shout echoes through the night. "Just— just wait a second!"


    Amber pushes through the door, stumbling slightly on the threshold. The cold air hits her like a slap, making her head spin more. Nate whirls around, nearly losing his balance.


    "YOU!" He points at her, his gesture too wide. "What the hell, Amber? What the actual hell?"


    "Me?" She laughs, the sound sharp and bitter. "What about you? Following her like some... some lost puppy!"


    "Going through my phone?" He steps closer, his words slurring slightly. "That''s— that''s messed up. That''s so messed up."


    "Oh, I''M messed up?" Her voice rises hysterically. "While you''re off playing study buddies with Miss Perfect? Don''t think I haven''t seen you two! All those little... little looks in AP Lit!"


    "You''re crazy!" He throws his hands up, stumbling backward. "You''re actually crazy! Lisa and I are just—"This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "Just what?" She steps into his space, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Just friends? Just partners? Just sending each other naked pictures?"


    "I never even SAW those pictures!" His voice cracks. "Because my psycho girlfriend is going through my phone like some... some"


    "Psycho?" Tears spring to her eyes, hot and angry. "I''m psycho for protecting what''s mine?"


    "YOURS?" He laughs, loud and harsh. "I''m not your property, Amber! I''m not one of your... your designer handbags!"


    "No, you''re just the guy who SWORE you loved me!" She shoves him, not hard, but in his drunk state he staggers. "Who said we''d be together forever! But the second some girl bats her eyes at you—"


    "Don''t push me!" He steadies himself against a car. "And don''t— don''t turn this around! You went through my PHONE!"


    "BECAUSE I''M LOSING YOU!" The words tear out of her throat. "I can feel it! Every time she''s around, you''re different! Like I''m not enough anymore!"


    "You''re not losing me, you''re PUSHING me away!" He runs his hands through his hair, smearing the green even more. "With all your... your crazy control stuff! Your rules and your schemes and your... you''re CRAZY!"


    "I''m not crazy!" But she''s crying now, mascara probably running down her face. "I love you! I love you so much it makes me insane!"


    "Well, congratulations!" He spreads his arms wide, almost falling over. "You succeeded! This?" He gestures between them. "This is insane! I can''t... I can''t do this right now. I''m too drunk for this."


    "Nate—" She reaches for him but misses slightly.


    "No!" He backs away, tripping over his own feet. "Just... just stay away from me. I need... I need to think. Or drink. Or... just... not this."


    He turns and stumbles back toward the house, using the wall for support. Amber''s legs give out, and she sinks onto the front steps, the baseball bat rolling away somewhere in the dark. The world spins around her, alcohol and heartbreak making everything blur.


    From the backyard, someone starts a drunk rendition of "Don''t Stop Believin''" while Amber Rosenberg, Queen of Riverside High, sits alone on Jake Woodland''s front steps, crying off her Harley Quinn makeup and learning that some things can''t be controlled, no matter how hard you try.


    The tears come hot and fast now, smearing her perfect Harley Quinn makeup into something grotesque. Nate Brooks. The name echoes in her head like a broken record, like a prayer, like a curse. Nate Brooks, who was supposed to be forever. Nate Brooks, who she just pushed away with both hands.


    Her father''s voice floats through the vodka haze: "A Rosenberg''s greatest asset isn''t their money, princess. It''s their ability to turn any situation to their advantage." She''d been thirteen, crying over some middle school drama. He''d lifted her chin with one finger, his eyes serious. "The key is control. Always control."


    But she''s lost control, hasn''t she? Lost it completely.


    "Amber?" Hannah''s voice breaks through her spiral. "Are you okay?"


    Amber''s head snaps up, a snarl forming on her lips. "Do I look okay?"


    "I saw Nate heading to the pool house. He looked..."


    "I don''t care how he looked." The lie tastes like copper in her mouth.


    Hannah shifts from foot to foot but doesn''t leave. The concern in her eyes makes Amber want to scream. She doesn''t need concern. She needs—


    Something shifts inside her, like a switch being flipped. The world suddenly seems brighter, sharper, full of possibilities. Her father''s voice again: "When you can''t control the game, change the rules."


    A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside, surprising them both. Amber wipes her tears with the back of her hand, smearing black makeup across her skin like war paint. She grabs Hannah''s arm, pulling her up.


    "Let''s go party, bitch."


    "What—"


    "Come on!" The energy surging through her veins feels electric, unstoppable. "You want to see how the other half lives? Let me show you."


    She drags Hannah back toward the pool area, snatching a bottle of Grey Goose from an abandoned drinks table. The music hits her like a physical force – some remix of a song everyone''s sick of but pretends to love. Perfect.


    Through the crowd, she spots him. Nate, slumped next to the pool house with Jake and Jeff Thompson. Jeff''s varsity jacket stretches across shoulders built for protecting quarterbacks, his dark skin gleaming under the pool lights as he gestures emphatically about something.


    Amber takes a long pull from the bottle, relishing the burn. The music changes – something with a heavy bass that she feels in her bones.


    "WHOOOOO!" Morris''s voice cuts through the night. "AMBER ROSENBERG, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"


    She finds herself moving toward the diving board, her body electric with something that feels like power. The crowd parts for her like they always have, like they always will. Queen of Riverside High, wasn''t that what they called her? Well, time to earn her crown.


    The diving board vibrates under her Harley Quinn boots as she climbs up, bottle still in hand. Someone whoops. Someone else starts chanting her name. The energy builds, feeds on itself, becomes something wild and uncontrollable.


    She moves like lightning captured in human form, like every dance lesson she''s ever taken distilled into pure feeling. The bottle becomes a prop in her performance, catching light like liquid diamonds as she spins.


    Her gaze finds Nate again, drawn like a magnet to true north. He''s watching her, they all are. Jeff''s mouth hangs slightly open. Jake''s expression is harder to read – something between appreciation and concern. As she watches, Jake grabs Nate''s arm, pulling him toward the pool house door.


    Whatever. Let them go. Let them all go.


    She takes another drink, raises the bottle high. "TO RIVERSIDE HIGH!" she screams, and the crowd roars back at her. The sound fills her up, replaces everything she''s lost with something that feels like victory.


    Who needs Nate Brooks? The world is hers – has always been hers. She just forgot for a while, got caught up playing the perfect girlfriend when she should have been playing queen.


    The music pounds through her blood like a promise, like destiny. Amber Rosenberg doesn''t need anyone''s permission to rule. She just needs to remember who she is.


    And right now? Right now, she''s absolutely unstoppable.


    The music becomes her heartbeat, becomes everything. Amber spins on the diving board, vodka sloshing in the bottle, her body moving like it''s possessed by something wild and ancient. She feels infinite. Invincible. More alive than she''s felt in months, maybe years.


    "AMBER! AMBER! AMBER!" The crowd''s chant feeds her frenzy. She''s electric, she''s fire, she''s—


    The shift comes like a thunderclap.


    One moment she''s flying, and the next there''s nothing but a void opening up inside her chest. The music turns hollow, meaningless. Her movements falter.


    Nate.


    Where is he?


    She needs him. Needs him like oxygen, like gravity, like everything that keeps the world making sense.


    "Watch out!" Hannah''s scream cuts through the fog.


    Amber''s heel catches the edge of the diving board. The world tilts sideways, the pool''s surface rushing up to meet her—


    Hands grab her arms, yanking her back. She stumbles into Hannah, both of them falling onto the concrete. The bottle shatters somewhere nearby, vodka mixing with pool water.


    "I can''t—" Amber gasps. Her lungs won''t work right. The fairy lights strung around the pool blur and multiply, too bright, too much. "I can''t breathe—"


    "It''s okay." Hannah''s voice seems to come from very far away. "Come on, let''s get you out of here."


    Amber''s legs won''t cooperate. The crowd''s voices press in on her like physical weights. Everything''s too loud, too close, too real.


    "Nate," she manages. "I need— where''s—"


    Hannah guides her away from the pool, past clusters of concerned faces. Amber''s stomach lurches. She barely makes it to the bushes before everything comes up – vodka and expensive sushi and the last shreds of her dignity.


    Cool fingers gather her hair back. "It''s okay," Hannah murmurs. "Just get it out."


    "I''m fine," Amber gasps between heaves. But she''s not fine. She''s so far from fine she can''t even see it anymore. The world won''t stop spinning. Her knees won''t stop shaking. And Nate—


    God, Nate.


    What has she done?


    Another wave of nausea hits. She retches into the perfectly manicured hydrangeas, tears streaming down her face. Her carefully crafted Harley Quinn makeup runs in black rivers down her cheeks.


    "I need him," she sobs. "Please, I need—"


    The ground seems to tilt beneath her feet. The last thing she sees is Hannah''s worried face, illuminated by party lights that streak across her vision like falling stars.


    Then darkness claims her, and Amber Rosenberg – Queen of Riverside High, keeper of secrets, destroyer of hearts – crumples like a discarded costume onto Jake Woodland''s lawn.