Page 1 of VOGUEish

Prologue

Nine years and seven months earlier

Chased by cruel laughter, Isabella P. Chance blindly darted toward the exit.

“Hey, don’t forget to send us that image we discussed,” the ringleader of the popular girls said. “That is, if you still want to be a part of our group.”

Just as Isabella hit the hallway, she smacked into a pillar.Really. Who erects a pillar right outside the doors of a ballroom? Do people not know they are used for fast exits…emphasis on fast?

She shoved her hair out of her eyes and came eye to tie with the great-smelling pillar. Only it wasn’t a pillar; it was a chest—a chest that belonged to a face with a pair of startled blue eyes, square jaw, and lips parted as if about to say something…not mean.

“We’d love for this year’s prom queen to be one of us.” This came from the ringleader’s sidekick from somewhere inside the ballroom.

“Bathroom?” Isabella pleaded with the pillar.

“That way.” He pointed, not taking his gaze off her. “May I get somebody for you? Or, you know, pummel someone’s face?” He held up his fists, grinned, and winked.

She tried to say something pithy likeI could really use an impressive dick pic. Do you have one of those?But when she opened her mouth, a sob poured out.

The mean girls must have heard her cries and decided they weren’t through abusing her, because laughter and the sudden clacking of stilettos on tile drew closer.

The thought of continued taunts was more than Isabella could handle. She yanked up the hem of her gown and made a mad dash for safety, not slowing until she was inside the stark bright restroom. She stumbled toward the back stall.

Please let it be empty.

Inside the double-wide, she slid to the floor and allowed her precious prom gown—the one she’d saved and saved and saved to buy from a couture consignment shop—to crumple around her along with all her ridiculous dreams of how tonight would play out. She should have known it would be a catastrophe when her best friend couldn’t attend. That had been the Universe telling her to stay home. And she would have, except one of the most popular girls in the whole school had made a point of telling Isabella that she really hoped to see her at the dance. And Miss Popular’s dreamy boyfriend had stood behind her, nodding his enthusiastic agreement.

All a con. Premeditated bullying.

Now what?

Recover your dignity?

Like that could happen while sitting on a dirty bathroom floor sobbing and snotting. Gross.

Was she a bad person? Did she deserve this? Had she done something awful to any of her classmates without realizing it? Other than having the audacity to attend a private school on a scholarship, no. Did being poor warrant such meanness?

She wearily removed her glasses and used the tail of the sash she wore to rub the tears out of her eyes. Remembering what the sash had written on its backside—Loser Prom Queen—she yanked it off and shoved it in the trash bin. “Stupid, stupid—“

“I don’t mean to intrude,” a guy said in a loud whisper.

Isabella peeked from under the stall to see who had followed her. The entry door to the bathroom stood slightly ajar and a pair of shiny black dress shoes greeted her view. Was he one of her haters? “Go away.”

“Certainly, but first, is there anyone I could call or get for you?”

She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and blew her nose. “Who are you?”

“The guy who pointed you here.”

“Oh.” Someone who didn’t even know her had checked on her. “There’s no one at the dance, and I can never let my parents know about this.”My classmates are right,I am a loser.

“I’m sure your parents would want to know you’re hurting,” he said soothingly.

“My mom is fragile. This would undo her.” Gah. Why had she told him that? Could she be any more pathetic?

“I’m sorry.”

His kindness caused a fresh sob to escape her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

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