At Northbrook High, prom was a big deal. Not just the dance itself, but the ritual leading up to it. The elaborate promposals. The corsages. The photos on the steps of the old courthouse. Every girl wanted to be asked. Every boy wanted to ask the right girl.
Hannah had no such illusions.
She knew what she looked like. She knew the odds. She’d watched other girls get asked with balloons and banners and one boy even hired a mariachi band. She’d smiled and clapped for them, genuinely happy, and told herself she didn’t care.
She did care. She just didn’t want to admit it.
The week before prom, the whispers started. A few kids in her English class had a running bet—who would be desperate enough to ask Hannah? Some said it would be a freshman, too naïve to understand the social hierarchy. Others said no one would. Hannah pretended not to hear.
