The Elites were spotted at Althea's today shopping for dresses -- well, the Elites minus one. Only Elspeth Rhee and Tessa O'Connell appear to be worried about senior formal. Where has Molly Peterson disappeared to lately? Are there secret rendezvous with Erik Alexander we should know about?

yours truly,
Queen B.

***

"Whose car should we take?"

"We can take yours if you want," I responded, glancing at my watch as the hour hand inch forward on a Saturday afternoon.

Becca pulled a lanyard out of her handbag, the keys dangling at one end. Heading for the barren parking lot, she unlocked her car as we stepped off the freshly painted curb. The meniscus of her coffee shifted as she walked, the dark liquid clinging to the walls of her mug.

"Did you get a new car?" I asked, watching the headlights of a gray Audi parked in the front row blink twice. "What happened to the Bentley?"

"This was a birthday present from Dad over the summer," Becca explained. "The Bentley's still sitting in the garage. My mom's been trying to get my dad to sell it back to the dealer, but you know how it is with men and their cars."

I laughed, making my way to the passenger's side. As I grabbed the door handle, I noticed a streak of silver lettering that read Matthews etched onto the side of the brand new Audi.

She placed her coffee mug on the roof before opening the back door. The door slammed shut after her bag landed on the black leather seat, its contents rattling around inside.

"I mean it's absolutely ridiculous," Becca huffed. "I'm pretty sure my dad spends more time with his Porsche than his only daughter."

"That's only because we're stuck here trying to survive our last year of high school. And speaking of high school, where is everyone? There was no one at lunch today."

Becca's dark brown eyes scoured the parking lot where only a handful of cars remained. She shrugged, unable to find a concrete reason. "I heard one of the sophomores is throwing a beach party at her house this afternoon. Everyone else must be looking for last minute dresses like we are."

"If you hadn't reminded me, I would've forgotten senior formal was next week."

"You should thank Alden," she told me before rolling her eyes. "He's been bothering me about his suit for the past couple of days."

On the weekends, the student parking lot was a dry desert by the time night fell. The upperclassmen gravitated toward the parties thrown by their friends from other schools on Saturday nights. I'd just never seen so many available spots before noon.

I ducked my head under the low ceiling and climbed into the passenger seat, setting my clutch in my lap. After Becca took one last sip of her coffee, the engine roared to life. She eased out of the parking spot, breaking the residential speed limit the second she turned off campus.

A comfortable silence hovered over us for the first half of the ride, the radio playing softly in the background of our private thoughts. I was halfway through deleting the emails in my inbox when the car screeched to a halt in front of a hidden stop sign. The seatbelt snapped me back against my seat.

"Sorry," Becca muttered under her breath. "I couldn't see the stop sign behind the bush. They should really trim its branches."

"Maybe I should've driven," I said, glancing at her hollow eyes and the empty coffee mug in the cup holder between us. Only in direct sunlight did I notice the exhaustion honing her features. "Did the football game go into overtime or something?"

"No, nothing like that," she replied, covering her mouth as a small yawn escaped her cherry coated lips. "I just stayed up all night talking to Nate. He doesn't have free time until after eight at camp, and by then it's already eleven here. He insists on talking to me until I fall asleep, but I always feel bad for being the first one. I just end up staying up until he crashes anyway."

Nathaniel Cross was on the other side of the country, kicking balls into nets under the scorching California sun at one of the most intensive camps in the world for soccer. Scouts littered the sidelines of every drill and practice in deep thought, recruitment papers nestled inside their clipboards holding sheets of detailed observations together.

Everyone knew that Nate was going to get an offer by the time he returned. That and a glowing tan the Elites would envy. The only question left was where he would commit for the upcoming school year.

At the next stoplight, Becca lowered the volume of the radio. She turned to face me and mentioned, "But while we're on the subject of football, did you know that the governor's son is on the team?"

"What about it?" I told her casually, motioning toward the clear road in front of us as the light switched from red to green. "I didn't know until yesterday. The uniform was sort of impossible to miss."

"He's good, Kennedy, really good," she repeated. "You should've seen him on the field yesterday. He scored more than half of the points. He's even better than Erik and Connor combined and they're the captains of the team this year."

"What was the score?" I wondered, unable to hide the curiosity lingering in my tone.

"35 to 6 with respect to us. I can't even remember the last time we had a victory that easily in a sport other than golf or tennis."

As with most of the magnet schools or academies across the country, Nouveau excelled solely at golf and tennis. With more than half of their students growing up in country club homes, racquets and golf clubs were like an extended arm.

The other sports, however, were more of a toss up. Nouveau specialized in the arts and sciences, not athletics. This was what Dean Witterby offered as words of encouragement every time we failed to make it to the playoffs. But it looked like Griffin King was singlehandedly changing our predetermined fate.

"I thought Connor was good at running around with a football in his arms, but Griffin is something else."

"You have a boyfriend, Becca," I reminded her. "Isn't Nate supposed to be coming back on Tuesday?"

"But the point is you don't," she mused, a half smile playing with the curve of her lips. "What I'm trying to say is that football players have really nice asses."

"And so do baseball players."

I glanced out the window, watching hills and wooded areas transform into a historic town center with brick buildings and stone fountains. Round water drops splattered the sidewalks that wrapped around the restaurants and shops. We pulled right into a spot right outside Althea's Boutique, the one store in Brighton that was capable of draining our inflated wallets.

A bell chimed as we entered the vanilla infused store, the soft sound of the radio dispersing through the speakers hidden behind decorative freesias overhead. An employee with lilac hair greeted us with a warm smile. Her name tag read Delilah.

Althea's was gaining popularity among the private schools for its exclusive designs and custom sizing. The racks of dresses across the entire boutique were organized by color and style. Since everything was handmade, every piece of clothing in the store was unique.

"At least we'll know that no one has the same dress as us at formal," Becca joked as she sifted through the racks, her fingers brushing over the wooden hangers.

I walked to the next rack of dresses over, starting my own search. "Do you have an idea of what you're wearing yet?"

"Nate and I are thinking of Prince Charming and Cinderella, but that depends on if I can find a dress today," she replied. "The theme is for the decorations anyway. Most people are probably gonna end up wearing black."

When I heard Tessa's voice through one of their changing stalls in the back corner, I wasn't surprised. While Althea's was just starting to acquire more customers, the Elites had been shopping here since sophomore year. The three, sometimes four digit, numbers on the price tag barely made a dent in their bank accounts.

Opposite the changing stalls, Elspeth sat patiently on one of their couches. Having already picked out a dress, she stared at her manicured nails. She straightened her posture as Tessa walked out of the changing room wearing a black dress that hugged her model like frame.

"How does this look?" she asked for Elspeth's opinion, spinning around in a circle in her heels. "God, these heels are really killing me today."

"You look good in everything, Tess," Elspeth insisted with an encouraging smile, "but I liked the last one better. Everyone is going to be wearing black."

My eyes kept drifting back to the couches behind the thick Victorian curtains shielding the dressing rooms. I watched Elspeth and Tessa debate between the two options, waiting for Molly to step out from one of the other stalls. The strange thing was that she never did.

On their way out of the dressing rooms, we ran into each other. They had no sense of direction even between two pairs of eyes. Tessa was too focused on her aching feet while Elspeth buried her head in text messages that kept popping up, each notification ringing endlessly through the boutique. When worry lines creased her forehead, I knew something was definitely going on.

Elspeth glanced up from her screen, surprise shocking her defined cheekbones. "Oh hey there, Kennedy. I didn't you see there! Sorry for running into you."

"Don't worry about it," was all I managed to say.

Tessa only addressed me with a small smile out of obligation. We simply stared at each other, and in that moment, I swore that five seconds had never felt longer.

"Well, we'll see you back at school later then," Elspeth finally broke the awkward silence. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Why doesn't Tessa ever say more than a few words to you anymore?" Becca asked me once I made my way over to her, clutching a dress in my arms. "You must've stepped on one of her designer shoes on accident in the hallway or something."

I stepped in front of the mirror near the hat section, sneaking a glance at my reflection. "I think I would've remembered that if it had actually happened."

"Maybe her crush in elementary gave you his first kiss instead of her. How scandalous," she teased, bumping her arm against mine.

"I told you about my first kiss, remember?"

"Right." She nodded slowly, trying to remember details of a conversation we had too many years ago. "You told me you had your first kiss at some party before freshman year. I can't believe you can't remember the guy's name."

"I was fourteen, Becca," I said defensively, "but it's probably better that I don't remember anyways. This way, I won't feel compelled to look him up on Instagram."

"Kennedy, everyone knows you go to Facebook if you really want to stalk someone."

I rolled my eyes, turning my head back to the mirror. As I held up the burgundy dress in front of me, a girl with dark blonde hair stared back, her soft brown eyes following my every action.

"That's definitely the dress, Ken," Becca told me, glancing over my shoulder at the body length mirror.

"You really think so?"

She nodded. "Maybe Tessa is jealous of you because she knows you're gonna look hotter than her in that dress."

"Why would Tessa be jealous of me? She has everything I have and more." I laughed. "In all seriousness, I don't know why Tessa and I don't talk anymore. I mean we used to be friends a long time ago."

Good ones.