As soon as we walk through the crowded entrance, cups are shoved into our hands by this really tan guy who’s wearing a shirt that says WEED-WHACKER. “Here,” he says. “A gift.”

Ashtyn’s top lip curls as she leans in to talk to me. “Don’t drink it. It’s probably laced with something.” She grabs the cup from me and dumps it in a planter in the corner, but Bree is about to down the contents.

“Bree!” I call out, grabbing the cup from her hand and tossing it in the planter. “What if it was laced with something?” I yell over the loud, pounding music.

She shrugs. “What if it wasn’t?”

“I’m not letting you take that chance.”

“Well, let’s get something that’s not laced. The bar is over there!” Bree screams over the loud music as she reveals the OVER 21 wristbands she swiped from her bouncer friend. She points to the other side of the club, then takes my hand and leads me to the bar while creepy WEED-WHACKER stares after us.

The number of people crammed into this small space is probably a fire hazard. It smells of sweat and beer and weed all mixed together. I don’t think most of us would make it out alive if a fire broke out.

I push my way through the crowd with one hand holding Bree and the other holding on to Ashtyn. The music is so loud my ears are ringing and the beat of the bass is making the floor vibrate.

Soon Bree is flirting with the bartender, who brings us a round of shots.

And another. And another.

“I’m going to have to call Derek to take us home,” Ashtyn says. “I’m already feeling dizzy.”

“I’m good,” I say, liking the warm feeling rushing through my body. I’m not feeling any pain right now—none at all.

“Wanna dance?” some guy with messy brown hair and beer dripping down his chin asks me.

Umm… “I’m good.”

“Go dance, Monika!” Bree says, pushing me toward the guy.

How did I get myself into this situation? It’s not like I haven’t drank before. I have. It’s just…I’ve only drank a few times with my friends. I’ve never drank with a bunch of strangers in a club.

He leads me to the dance floor, and we start dancing. I try not to think about his hands on my waist or the fact that I think he just felt my butt. I step away from him, but he pulls me back with an overly tight grip on my arm.

“Come on, be nice and give me some sugar,” he says into my ear.

I’m not good at pretending like Bree is. I take his hand, the one that’s got a grip on my arm, and scratch him with my nails.

“Ow! Bitch!” he screams over the loud music.

When he releases me, I weave through the crowd and stumble a couple of times along the way.

I think I’m drunk.

But when I see a girl with bright pink hair, my mind sobers up. She’s in the corner, popping a yellow pill into her mouth. When our eyes meet, she ducks through the crowd.

“Zara!” I call out as loud as I can over the music as I try my best to follow her through the sea of people drinking and dancing.

For a minute I think I’ve lost her, but then I catch a glimpse of that pink hair as she escapes into the bathroom. Wasting no time, I push through until I’m in the bathroom, too. No pink hair in here. She must be in one of the stalls.

“Hey, Zara,” I say, trying not to slur my words. “I need to talk to you. I’m not leaving here until we talk.”

Suddenly the door to one of the stalls opens. Zara Hughes—the pretty girl in the pictures with Trey. Forever and always.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask her.

“Yeah.” She looks nervous and her eyes focus on the door. Is she planning her escape to avoid this confrontation? “I know who you are,” she says.

Girls waiting in line for an open stall are listening to us. It’s not like there’s any place we can talk in private, so I’m gonna do it right here and now.

“I, um…” I think of what to say, but my brain is foggy and I’m aware that people are starting to stare.

I look at Zara’s pink hair, pink lips, and her flawless skin. Despite what I want to think, she doesn’t look like a slut or manipulative. She looks sad, like she’s just lost the love of her life.

I don’t need to interrogate her. Just by looking at the tears pooling in her eyes, I know the truth. She was in love with Trey. From the pictures I found in his room, I can tell he was in love with her.

I reach into my purse and pull out the pictures of the two of them. “Here,” I say. “I found these in Trey’s room.”