Free Web NovelChapter 45: Chapter 45 - Nominated
Ever since that night with Claire, Homecoming had stopped feeling like a dance and started feeling like a deadline.
Every poster in the hallway felt personal. The glittery letters spelling out the date and the theme seemed to mock her with every step she took between classes. Every girl gushing about dresses sounded too loud, their voices echoing off the lockers like they were announcing their perfect lives on purpose.
Every mention of tickets, pictures, hair appointments, and weekend shopping trips made Roxie’s stomach twist into knots that refused to loosen no matter how many deep breaths she forced herself to take.
She had nothing. No dress. No money. No mother she could actually trust to come through even once.
So when Angela grabbed her arm near the main hallway and said, "Roxie," in that dramatic voice, Roxie already wanted to bolt in the opposite direction. Her feet itched to keep walking, to disappear into the crowd and pretend none of this was happening.
"What?" Roxie asked, keeping her tone flat, guarded.
Angela pointed at the display board with wide eyes full of excitement that Roxie could not match. "Your name is up there."
Roxie looked.
Homecoming Queen Nominees
Kendall Whitlock
Roxie Jones
Harper Lane
Bianca Reeves
Sienna Moore
For a second, the hallway noise faded into the background. Roxie just stared at her own name like it was a prank waiting to blow up in her face. The bold black letters stared back at her, impossible to ignore.
Around them, people were already crowding in, phones out, whispering, laughing, filming reactions like this was the season finale of some reality show. A junior squealed loud enough to echo off the lockers. A football player yelled for his buddy to come look.
Two girls from the year below were already arguing about who actually deserved it more, their voices sharp and catty.
Roxie’s anger flared hot behind her eyes.
The whole school was going to watch her now. Every single detail. What she wore. Who she showed up with. Whether she looked like she belonged next to girls who had credit cards, moms who booked salon appointments without blinking, and closets full of dresses they could reject for being last season.
She could already picture the whispers, the screenshots, the group chats lighting up with judgment. She would be the girl who got nominated but could not even show up properly. The fraud.
Angela squeezed her arm tighter. "Oh my God, you’re nominated!"
"I can read," Roxie muttered, her voice low.
Angela leaned in closer, practically vibrating. "Kendall’s on it too."
Karen pulled a face. "That kinda ruins it."
Roxie forced her mouth into something that almost passed for a smile. "It’s just Homecoming."
Angela’s eyes lit up with excitement that made Roxie’s chest ache. "Do you already have a dress picked out?"
Roxie’s throat closed tight. She saw Claire on the couch again in vivid detail. Smeared lipstick. Empty promises. That irritated sigh when Roxie had asked for the money she had been promised. The way her mother had looked at her like she was a burden for even bringing it up.
"No," she almost said out loud, the truth sitting right there on her tongue.
Instead she shrugged, casual as hell, like the words did not cost her anything. "Mom said we’re grabbing mine in New York."
Angela’s mouth dropped open. "New York? Shut up."
Karen blinked hard. "For real?"
Roxie nodded like it was no big deal, even though her stomach was doing violent backflips and her palms had started to sweat. "Yeah. Probably this weekend."
"Why didn’t you say anything?" Angela grabbed her arm with both hands, practically bouncing on her toes. "Buying a Homecoming dress in New York sounds insane. I need to live through you. Send pics, please. All the angles. The fitting room mirror selfies, everything."
"Sure," Roxie said. The lie burned on her tongue like something she would never be able to swallow back down. It tasted bitter and wrong, but once it was out there, she could not take it back.
Across the hall, Kendall had gone dead quiet. She stood with two of her girls, one eyebrow raised, eyes locked on Roxie like a sniper taking aim.
"New York?" Kendall called out, voice sweet but sharp enough to cut.
Angela’s grip tightened on Roxie’s arm, almost painful now.
Roxie turned slowly. "Yeah. Pretty big ears you got there."
Kendall tilted her head, all fake innocence. "Are you going to L.A. Valierre?"
Roxie had no clue what that was. Some fancy designer. Some boutique only rich girls knew. The kind of name dropped like everyone was supposed to nod along and be impressed. Her mind raced, but she kept her face still.
She lifted her chin. "Are you?"
Kendall smiled, slow and satisfied. "We already ordered mine from there."
The girls around her exploded with excitement.
"Oh my God, Kendall." "You’re gonna look unreal." "I saw their dresses online. They’re insane."
Kendall soaked it up for a second, then looked back at Roxie. "Well? Are you?"
Roxie smiled until her cheeks ached. "Mom said bigger brands are better."
Kendall squinted, studying her like she could see right through the bluff, like she could smell the lie from across the hallway. "Really?"
"Really."
For a beat, Kendall just stared, that little smile never slipping. "Cute."
She turned and walked off with her squad, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume and pure suspicion behind her. The scent lingered in the air like a warning.
The second she was gone, Angela spun on Roxie. "New York? Bigger brands? Girl, you never tell us anything!"
Karen crossed her arms, smirking. "I always knew you were lowkey bougie with my Chanel stuff."
Roxie rolled her eyes, forcing a laugh that scraped her throat. "Please. Your Chanel enters the room before you do."
Angela cracked up. Karen shoved her shoulder. "Jealous."
Roxie smiled because she had to. Rich people were ridiculous, but at least some of them made lying easier. She could hide behind the vague idea of money and trips and pretend she belonged for a few more hours.
But the second the girls left, the weight crashed back down harder than before. Roxie’s arm burned under the strap of the Class A Hermes bag.
The one she had spent every single paycheck from three straight summers buying, working extra shifts at the diner, skipping lunches, saving every tip. The one everyone swore was real. Right now it felt like a lead weight dragging her down with every step.
Why the hell did she open my mouth to Kendall?
The lie sat like acid in her throat. New York? Bigger brands?
Is she fucking dumb?
She had painted herself into a corner with no exit. Wearing last season’s anything would get ripped apart in the group chats. Not showing up with something expensive would get ripped apart even worse.
Everything would get ripped apart. She could already imagine the screenshots, the side eyes, Kendall’s satisfied little smirk spreading through the entire school.
Her mind swirled so hard she barely registered the rest of the day passing. Classes blurred together into one long haze of notes she did not really take and teachers whose voices faded into background noise. Bells rang. Lockers slammed.
Teachers droned on about assignments that felt miles away. By the time she stood in front of her locker shoving books into her bag for cheer practice, the hallway had already emptied out, leaving only the faint echo of distant conversations.
Karen appeared beside her, bumping her shoulder. "So... you still on that weird thing with Zac?"
Roxie blinked, dazed. "Huh?"
Karen grinned, leaning against the locker with that knowing look. "Don’t play dumb. The whole carnival vibes. You two have been acting strange ever since."
"Uh, no," Roxie said quickly, zipping her bag with more force than necessary. "I told you it’s not like that."
Angela walked up sipping from her water bottle, eyes sparkling with gossip. "For the whole week he couldn’t take his eyes off you. I think it is exactly what we think it is."
Roxie forced a laugh that sounded fake even to her own ears. "We’re friends."
"Sure." Angela said, drawing the word out like it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "And I’m the pope."
Karen smirked. "And I’m Santa Claus."
"I get it." Roxie said, closing her locker with a metallic bang that echoed down the empty hall. "Drop it already."
The rest of the afternoon dragged on through practice.
The gym echoed with shouts and claps and the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the mats. Stunts went up and down. Cheers were repeated until they felt automatic. Kendall made her usual sharp little comments from the sidelines, nothing direct but enough to keep Roxie’s nerves on edge.
By the time they finished, the gym had emptied fast. The other girls were already gone, laughing and heading home, their voices fading down the hallway.
The gym became quiet fast.
Roxie sat on the bleachers, her bag beside her, her hands resting on her knees. The silence should have helped. It didn’t.
Her mind went right back to the same problem. Her lies kept replaying until Roxie wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She pressed her palms harder into her knees, trying to ground herself, but the anxiety only twisted tighter.
Then footsteps pounded across the gym floor.
Mason came in still wearing his football practice jersey, sweat darkening the fabric at his chest. His hair was damp, and he looked like he had run straight from the field, his face flushed with effort.
"Roxie," he called.
She looked up. "What?"
"Zac got hit during drills."
Her stomach dropped before she could stop it, a cold rush that made her breath catch. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Mason dragged a hand through his hair. "Coach pulled him. He’s in the nurse’s office."
Roxie stood halfway, then caught herself. "Is he okay?"
"He’s awake," Mason said quickly. "Just pissed because Coach wouldn’t let him finish practice."
That sounded like Zac. Annoyingly stubborn and full of fire even when he should not be.
"Then why are you telling me?"
Mason gave her a look. "Because he’s being impossible."
"He has friends."
"Yeah, and we’re sick of him."
"Mason."
"I’m serious." He pointed toward the gym doors. "He looks like he wants to punch a wall. You make him less stupid."
Roxie stared at him, searching his face for any sign that this was some kind of joke.
Mason grimaced. "Sometimes."
She should not go. She should go home. She should let his football friends deal with him because Zac Prescott had an entire team and half the school willing to panic if he sneezed. Going would only make things more complicated. She did not need more complications right now.
But her chest had already tightened. She hated that. She hated him for getting under her skin like this. She hated that the word hit had made her move before she had given herself permission.
"Fine," she said, grabbing her bag. "Two minutes."
Mason turned too fast. That should have been her first warning.
The hallway was mostly empty as they walked. Their shoes squeaked against the floor in a steady rhythm that felt too loud in the quiet. Mason kept his pace quick, shoulders tense, like he was trying to outrun his own terrible idea. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting long shadows that made everything feel a little more off.
Roxie narrowed her eyes at his back. "Why are you walking like you committed a crime?"
"I always walk like this."
"No, you don’t."
"I’m athletic."
"You’re suspicious."
He pushed open the nurse’s office door. "He’s in there."
Roxie stepped inside.
The door shut behind her.
The lock clicked.
She spun around. "Mason."
No answer.
She grabbed the handle and pulled hard. It did not move.
"Mason, open the door."
From the other side, Mason’s voice came through, muffled and way too pleased with himself. "Talk for five minutes before you both make everybody miserable."
"Mason!"
Roxie’s pulse jumped hard. Her heart hammered against her ribs as the reality of the situation sank in. She was trapped. With him.
She turned back, anger already rising hot in her chest, mixed with something else she did not want to name.
Zac sat on the nurse’s cot with an ice pack pressed to his shoulder. His practice jersey was dirty. His hair was damp. His mouth was slightly split at the corner, and his face was turned toward the window like he was in the middle of being furious alone.
Then he looked over.
His eyes landed on her.
Everything on his face changed.
The ice pack lowered slowly.
"Roxie?" he said, shocked.
