“Enjoying the dance?” she asks. There’s so much sugar in her voice I could become diabetic.

Riley grabs my arm and tries to force me to move, but I don’t. I’m going to fight fire with fire.

“Very much so. Luke is a perfect gentleman.”

If anything, that just makes her smile grow.

“You’re welcome,” she says. Then she turns and walks away.

Riley’s attempts at dragging me toward the gym succeed, and it’s not until we’re just outside the door that I let myself speak.

“What did she mean by that?”

“By what?” Riley asks.

“ ‘You’re welcome.’ ”

Riley shrugs. “She’s just trying to get under your skin. Come on.”

She pulls me the last few feet toward the door, but her words are far from comforting. As we head toward the table where Luke and Sandy are chatting, I have a sinking feeling that my suspicions about Luke were right.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

I can’t get rid of the little voice in the back of my head for the rest of the dance. It whispers at me through the pop songs that Luke is just using me. And when the music changes to a slow dance, the voice just gets louder. Luke steps up close to me and wraps his arms behind my waist, pulling me toward him. I have no choice but to place my arms around his neck. But I don’t lean in, don’t put my head on his chest like I’ve seen all those girls do in sappy romance movies. I keep a few inches of open air between us.

“You really are beautiful,” he says.

“Thanks,” I reply. I don’t compliment him in return. The voice in my head becomes Megan’s taunting drawl, and I can’t shake the uncertainty that comes with it.

Sadly, he seems to mistake my silence and distant expression as something else. He leans in then, pulling me a little closer. His eyes flutter shut.

Alarm bells ring.

“Why did you ask me out?” I blurt.

His eyes snap open. “What?”

“Why did you ask me out?” I repeat.

“I don’t understand—”

“You didn’t start talking to me until right after the talent show. You could have any girl at camp, so why did you pick me?”

“Jenn, I—”

“Did Megan put you up to it?”

That makes him stutter. “Wh-What?”

I don’t repeat myself. I just stare at him with what I hope is a no-nonsense look and wait for him to answer.

“Jenn, that’s just ridiculous.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have to answer. You’re being crazy.”

“Then say she didn’t put you up to it.”

He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. But there’s a flicker in his features, the slightest tilt that tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Did she pay you?” I whisper. Even saying the words makes me feel sick.

Again, he says nothing.

“How much?” I push. We’ve both stopped dancing now. We stand in the middle of the gym while everyone moves around us, and no one is aware of this minor breakdown. No one knows that inside, it feels like getting stood up all over again. But much, much worse.

Because I fell for it. Again.

“A hundred,” he finally says.

I gasp. Take a step back.

“But I wasn’t going to take it,” he says. He tries to reach out for me, but I move out of the way. “I promise, Jenn. I was going to give it back.”

“Which is it? You weren’t going to accept it or you were going to return it? I’m not a trial date, Luke. I’m not a piece of clothing you can return.”

He’s gaping like a fish. The anger in me grows. I can’t tell if it’s rage at him or Megan or myself.

“You’re disgusting,” I finally say. Then I turn and run from the gym. The only consolation I have is that I don’t start crying until I reach the dorms.

•  •  •

“Jennifer, wait!”

Riley’s voice calls me to a stop. I’m halfway down the hall, heading toward our dorm room, where I’d planned on locking myself in the shower for the rest of the night. But hearing her voice makes me realize that I don’t actually want to be alone. Not now. Not when it hurts this much.

“What happened?” she asks. She jogs up beside me and puts her hands on my shoulders, examining me like she’s expecting bruises. “What did he do?”

I wipe the tears from my eyes and try to choke down a sob.

“She paid him. She paid him to ask me.”

“What? Who paid who?”

“Megan. She paid Luke to ask me to the dance. A hundred dollars.”

Riley curses under her breath, calling Megan even worse things than before.

“I’m not going to let her get away with this,” she whispers, almost to herself. Her cheeks aren’t red, not yet, but they’re slowly burning their way there. But the fight in me is gone. I feel broken and battered. I’ve given up.

“Riley, don’t.” I reach out and take her arm. She shrugs it off.

“No. No one treats my friends like this. She’s going to pay.”

Before I can beg her not to go, she stomps off down the hall. I consider going to our room for the briefest second, but the idea of letting Riley fight my battle is disgusting. I don’t want this to end in violence. I just want this to end.

For the first time since that fateful audition on the flying trapeze, I want the camp to be over with.

I force down my tears and run to catch up to Riley just as she enters the gym.

But there’s already a fight raging inside the gym. And it’s immediately clear that this one has nothing to do with me.

The music screeches to a halt the moment we step into the gym. The dance floor is a sea of yelling people crowding together. Riley gives me a questioning look, her features instantly dropping the anger from before.

Then we hear Tyler yelling above all the rest, and my anger switches to concern.

We run toward the huddle of people, pushing our way past everyone until we’re in the center. Tyler and Kevin are locked in a fight with two guys I’ve never seen before. One swings at Kevin’s face; Kevin dodges just in time and manages to shove the guy to the ground. Tyler is in a headlock. Only then do I register that Branden is there, trying to pull the guy’s arms off Tyler’s neck. It’s immediately clear what it’s about: the names the strangers are calling Tyler and Kevin make me sick.

I’ve heard people throw around the word “gay” in a derogatory way, but I’ve never heard it used like this.

“Stop it!” I scream, and I launch myself into the fray. Riley’s right there beside me, but before either of us can get a swing in, the coaches bust through the crowd and grapple with the intruders. They pry the brown-haired boy off Tyler and yank the blond from the ground. Tyler and Kevin step back, chests heaving as the coaches detain the intruders. The unknown boys don’t stop hurling insults, the least of which is that Tyler and Kevin are disgusting for dancing together.

“Get them out of here,” Olga says. She pushes her way up behind me. “I don’t care who they are, we will not tolerate this sort of behavior. The police are on their way.”

The coaches detaining the strangers nod, then begin dragging the still-yelling boys toward the exit. The crowd parts away from them as they go.

“And you,” Olga says, turning to us. I’ve always been a ­little intimidated by her, but she’s never been this imposing. “What happened here?”

“They started it,” Tyler pants. His arm is over Kevin’s shoulders—I can’t tell who is holding up who.

Kevin continues. “Just came up behind us and started punching.”

“Are you hurt?” Olga asks.

Both boys shake their heads. Tyler manages a weak smile. “Should have known better than to mess with us. We’d have had them if they hadn’t caught us by surprise.”

“We don’t condone violence here,” Olga says. Then her voice softens. “But I’m glad you’re okay. Leena? Take them to the nurse’s station. Make sure they’re fit to perform tomorrow. The rest of you, back to the dance.”