It was lunch time in the HVH cafeteria. Quinn set her tray on our table and took the empty seat across from me.

Quinn chuckled. "Rough day?"

"Jocks, are a menace." Instead of enjoying my cheeseburger and fries, I was picking silly string from my hair and clothes. A shooting guard for the HVH Ravens winked as he sauntered past.

"So did your aunt really not know she was pregnant? Aren't doctors supposed to know that kinda stuff?"

"Doctors make lousy patients."

Quinn leaned across the table, silver bracelets clinking as she picked string from my hair. "What happened this time? Another misunderstanding with the chess team?"

"Today was the basketball team. Where were you?"

"Not making out in the janitor's closet with Declan, that's for sure. But I'm glad your aunt's okay. It could have been a lot worse. Babies suck, but it'll grow up and leave one day."

Bursting at the seams, I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "I told Tyler what happened at the hotel."

Quinn coughed on her celery stick. "You what?"

"Don't worry. Tyler's not mad about the egg. He's too embarrassed about his dad to care about anything else—besides getting laid." My gaze traveled across the cafeteria, where Robin and Tyler were the focal point of the most exclusive table. Tyler had taken my advice and was finally integrating—with the popular kids, of course.

"Thanks to Tyler's dad, I have nightmares about Bortnik and Aleksandr kicking his teeth in. I'd say that makes us pretty even." Quinn stabbed her salad, glaring at her tray like it was personally responsible for everything she blamed them for. "My life is an ash tray."

"I'm sorry I dragged you along, Q. If I had known—"

"Stop. You couldn't have known, so it's not your fault. I chose to go." She picked at her food, tucking long blonde locks behind her ear. "I guess having a messed-up family explains why Tyler's such a meathead."

"We all have daddy issues. Maybe you should cut him some slack, Q."

"I could. But I won't."

My gaze strayed once again. I bit into my cheeseburger, tasting sawdust as I watched Robin whisper in Tyler's ear. Whatever she said, he was interested. And who wouldn't be? Robin was a gorgeous, talented cheerleader who was incredibly popular despite the personality of a wet cat. She left the table with Tyler, walking backward as she led him by the hand. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach as they disappeared through the cafeteria doors.

Sometimes Tyler made me feel like the most important person in the world. And sometimes we lived on two different planets.

Quinn shook her head in disappointment. "Why do you torture yourself?"

"Because dancers are gluttons for punishment. And competition." I pushed my tray towards, Quinn. Watching Tyler leave the cafeteria with Robin only cemented my decision to annihilate her in the talent show.

"Tyler's living the lifestyle of the rich and famous." Quinn opened the Jell-O cup I had forsaken, licking the tab. "Any girl he gets with is just another notch in his headboard before he runs back to his cushy New York life. You deserve better, Aaliyah."

But it's like I said, dancers are gluttons for punishment.

***

Once Tyler enrolled, HVH became a different kind of jungle.

I was known, not popular. But once Tyler started tagging me in Tweets and walking me to classes, I had influencer status overnight. My social media exploded with followers; dances I posted online went viral. As a dancer I lived for the spotlight, but a little bit of clout has its disadvantages.

Now there were trolls and hate comments. Classmates tagged me in shady posts; boys who had never glanced in my direction made up excuses just to get me alone after school. When a herd of basketball players filmed themselves mummifying me with silly string, that's when I knew what Tyler meant when he said the whole world wanted something from him.

Friday morning, Mr. Lowrance finally posted the acts chosen from Monday auditions. I lingered on the fringes, waiting for the crowd to thin so I could check the list and text Quinn the results. She was the nervous one, hinging her entire future as a singer on this one, flimsy audition.

"It's not as fun when the results stop surprising you." Robin freed herself from the crowd. Wearing a white, long-sleeved turtleneck under a plaid mini dress, she was iconic in her high pony and seventies makeup. A nightmare dressed like a daydream.

"Robin, if you don't enjoy this stuff why do you do it?"

"One thing colleges like to see on a transcript—a winner. Losers don't cheer for professional sports. They sit in the stands and watch."

"Can't relate. I was too busy dancing at nationals to consider adding a school talent show to my application for the Conservatory. But congratulations on entering, Robin. Y'know what they say—there are no small stages." When I tried to edge around Robin, she darted in front of me, blocking my exit.

"Application?" The grin stretched across her face was tight and wax-like. "But the Conservatory is the pinnacle of my dream list. Surely you're not applying."

"Applying? I got my acceptance letter weeks ago."

No need to mention my mother had graduated Magna Cume Laude from the Conservatory, the school that honored her memory by adding a bench to the school grounds. I worked hard to get accepted—signing up for summer courses, endless hours studying for the SATs, mailing every college application early, and slaying my opponents in every competition.

"Impressive." Barbie features carved from stone, Robin clutched her school books to her stomach. "And how did Tyler feel sharing the spotlight? You did tell Tyler?" Her gaze glued to my face, she straightened, perking like a hound dog with a new scent. "You didn't."

"What does it matter?"

"We both know the Village isn't big enough for Tyler. As soon as we graduate, he's going back to New York—and you're going to Boston. He'll never follow you, Aaliyah, and he's not coming back to the Village. Ever. So, unless you're willing to give up your dream, you'll never be with Tyler. That's why you haven't told him about the Conservatory—delaying the inevitable, because you know you'll never see him again."

I hated to admit it, but Robin was right. Once we graduated, there was a good chance I would never see Tyler again. Robin was willing to sacrifice everything to be with him. Just the thought of giving up the Conservatory put my stomach in knots.

"Not that it's any of your business, Robin, but I haven't said anything because it hasn't come up." I glanced away, arms folded, shoulders stiff. "He'll understand."

"Sure he will." Robin slipped past me, the clicking of her baby-doll heels offset by her frilly, knee-high socks.

"We're just friends. Tyler and I don't cross that line, ever."

"Then prove it. Come to my party Saturday. Bring Quinn."

"You hate Quinn."

"Even more than the words cubic and zirconia. But you're his best friend; if I want Tyler, I have to..." Robin drew a smile across her face, "play nice. Leaving New York must have seriously cooked Tyler's brain, because he actually wants to 'turn a new leaf'. And he's budgeting? Ew. Gagging." Robin's face twisted in disgust.

"Tyler's best friend and your worst enemy under the same roof? You're up to something."

"Come and see, honeybee."

I could turn down Robin's insidious invitation, or, I could go to a party and feel semi-normal for once. I threw myself into grades and dancing and only came up for air. Whatever Robin had planned, it would never be worse than blinking through my senior year.

"Fine. I'll go to your party, but it has nothing to do with saving your relationship with Tyler."

"The sleepovers were pretty memorable. Too bad they ended."

"You stopped inviting me."

"You stopped showing up." Hand on her hip, glossy, peach lips pursed, Robin glanced away.

Dancing on pins and needles, I switched my backpack to my other shoulder. "I'm sorry, Robin. I'm not trying to come between you and Tyler."

"Then why has he been spending the night with you?" she demanded. "Normally, I would socially castrate you on the quad for this, but I promised Tyler I wouldn't squash his favorite pet."

"Pet?"

"Please. You might as well wear a collar. He owns you." Robin stepped forward; her powder-blue, ballerina-tipped nails traced the tiny gold at my neck. "But Tyler is mine, so do us both a favor and stay in your lane. If you don't, you know I'll just take him from you."

"Because Tyler's just a trophy, right?"

"Heisman!" Tyler posed behind me, one hand outstretched as he cradled a pretend football. Freshman girls swooned as they passed.

Tyler didn't even give me a chance to explain, not that I deserved one. He strolled past me, draping his arm around Robin's neck and never looking back.

"See you at the party, Aaliyah." Robin blew a kiss over her shoulder and they continued down the hall, melding into the worshippers who tailed them everywhere.

Robin didn't have to mess things up with me and Tyler. I was doing a good job of that all by myself. That's the problem with telling the truth. It always gets you in trouble.

***