Autumn's POV
I'm going to throw up.
The bathroom mirror shows a girl I barely recognize. No hoodie. No glasses I don't actually need. No messy bun hiding my face. Just me—Autumn Hayes—in a cream-colored dress that cost me three weeks of lunch money from the consignment store, wearing Riley's borrowed heels and enough courage to fill a teaspoon.
"You look beautiful," Riley says behind me, fixing a loose strand of my hair. "Crew is going to lose his mind when he sees you."
Crew Maverick. The golden boy who sits next to me in AP Literature. The one who actually listens when I talk about books. The one who asked me—invisible, nobody, scholarship kid me—to prom.
My phone buzzes. Crew: Outside. Can't wait to see you.
My heart does this stupid fluttery thing. Three months ago, I ate lunch alone in the art room every single day. Now I'm going to prom with the most popular guy in school. This stuff doesn't happen to girls like me.
"Stop overthinking," Riley warns, reading my face like always. "You deserve this. He asked you because he likes you. Now go before you talk yourself into hiding in here all night."
I take one last look at the mirror. The girl staring back looks almost pretty. Almost like she belongs.
I should've known better.
Crew's car smells like expensive cologne and leather seats. He's wearing a black suit that probably costs more than my mom's monthly rent, and his golden hair is perfectly styled. When I climb in, he actually gasps.
"Autumn. Wow. You look... I mean, you always look nice, but tonight you're just... wow."
My cheeks burn. "Thanks. You look really good too."
He drives toward the hotel where prom is happening, and my hands won't stop shaking. Crew reaches over and squeezes my fingers gently.
"Hey. You okay? You seem nervous."
"I've just never been to one of these before," I admit. "What if I mess up? What if people think it's weird that you brought me?"
"Autumn." He looks at me with those perfect blue eyes. "I brought you because I want to be here with you. You're smart, you're genuine, you're not fake like everyone else at our school. That's why I like you."
Something warm spreads through my chest. Maybe Riley is right. Maybe I do deserve this.
The hotel ballroom is decorated with tiny white lights and silver decorations. Music thumps from inside. Groups of girls in sparkly dresses stand in circles, taking pictures. I spot Madison Pierce immediately—platinum blonde hair, emerald green dress that probably costs more than my mom's car, surrounded by her usual crowd of followers.
She sees me. Her eyes scan me from head to toe, and something flickers across her face. Surprise? Anger? Before I can figure it out, Crew pulls me inside.
"Come on. Let's dance."
The first hour is perfect.
Not just good. Perfect. Like a movie I've watched a thousand times but never thought I'd star in.
Crew introduces me to his friends, who smile and say nice things even though I can tell they're confused why he brought me. We dance to fast songs where I feel clumsy and awkward, but Crew just laughs and spins me around until I'm laughing too. When a slow song starts, he pulls me close.
"Having fun?" he asks.
"Yeah. This is..." I can't find words big enough. "This is the best night of my life."
He smiles, and I think maybe this is real. Maybe good things can happen to invisible girls. Maybe fairy tales exist outside of books.
"I'm glad," Crew says, his hand warm on my back. "You deserve to be happy, Autumn."
I close my eyes and let myself believe him.
Twenty minutes later, I excuse myself to find the bathroom. The hotel hallway is quiet compared to the loud music inside. My feet hurt from Riley's heels, but I don't even care. I'm walking on clouds made of happiness and disbelief.
That's when I hear the voices.
They're coming from a room down the hall—the coat check area. The door is cracked open just enough. I recognize Madison's laugh immediately. Sharp and mean, like broken glass.
"I can't believe you actually went through with it." Madison's voice. "How much did you win?"
My feet stop moving. Something cold slides down my spine.
"Fifty bucks from each person, so two hundred total."
That's Crew's voice.
No. That can't be Crew's voice.
I move closer to the door, my heart pounding so loud I can barely hear.
"Easiest money I ever made," Crew continues, and he's laughing. "She was so desperate for attention. I barely had to try. Just sat next to her in class, asked her about books, pretended to care about her boring opinions. She ate it up like a starving puppy."
The hallway tilts sideways. The walls are closing in. This isn't real. This is a nightmare. I'm going to wake up any second.
"Did you see that dress?" Another girl's voice—I think it's Sarah Chen. "I almost felt bad for her. Almost."
"Don't." Madison's voice is ice-cold. "Girls like her need to learn their place. She's a scholarship kid who wears hoodies and hides in the art room. She actually thought someone like Crew would want her? Please. This will teach her to stop embarrassing herself."
"Harsh, Mads." That's Jake Torres. "But yeah, the bet was worth it just to see her face when she walked in tonight. Did she really think she belonged here?"
They all laugh. The sound echoes in my ears like screaming.
Crew's laugh is loudest.
My hand finds the wall to steady myself. The cream dress suddenly feels like a costume. Like I'm a little kid playing dress-up in clothes that were never meant for me.
Two hundred dollars. That's what I'm worth. That's what my feelings cost.
Every study session. Every coffee before school. Every moment I thought someone finally saw me—all of it was a lie. A bet. A joke.
I need to leave. I need to run. But my legs won't move. I'm frozen in this hallway, listening to them destroy me with words while I stand here in borrowed heels and a consignment store dress, dressed up like I matter.
"We should get back before someone notices," Madison says. "Don't want to miss Autumn's face when she realizes. That's going to be the best part."
Footsteps move toward the door.
I finally unstick my feet and stumble backward, ducking into a side hallway just as the door opens. They walk past, still laughing, heading back to the ballroom where music plays and lights sparkle and everyone dances like the world isn't ending.
Madison's perfume trails behind her—sickly sweet and poisonous.
I stand in the shadows, shaking. My phone buzzes in my small purse.
Crew: Where'd you go? Looking for you.
My hands tremble as I stare at the screen. He's looking for me. The boy who just bragged about how easy it was to manipulate me. The boy who took money to break my heart.
Another text: Crew: You okay? Did you leave?
I should answer. I should march back in there and throw my cheap punch in his perfect face. I should scream and cry and make a scene.
But I can't breathe. My chest feels like it's caving in.
So I do what I always do when the world gets too big and too cruel.
I run.
Down the hallway. Through the side exit. Into the parking lot where cold night air slaps my face. My feet hurt. My dress catches on my heels. I don't care. I just run.
Behind me, the hotel glows with white lights and music and laughter.
I run until I can't hear it anymore.
I run until the bus stop. Until I'm sitting on the cold bench in my cream dress, mascara running down my face, watching cars drive past.
My phone won't stop buzzing. Riley: Where are you???Riley: AUTUMN ANSWER MECrew: Please tell me you're okayCrew: Autumn???
I turn it off. Silence feels better than lies.
A bus finally comes. The driver looks at me—this crying girl in a fancy dress at midnight—but doesn't ask questions. I pay my fare with shaking hands and find a seat in the back.
Through the window, I watch the hotel disappear behind me.
The perfect night is over. The fairy tale is dead.
And I finally understand the truth: Girls like me don't get happy endings. We get lessons. Hard ones. Brutal ones. Lessons that teach us exactly where we belong.
Not in ballrooms wearing cream dresses.
Not next to golden boys with perfect smiles.
Not anywhere that matters.
The bus rumbles through dark streets, taking me home to reality. My reflection stares back at me from the window—smeared makeup, red eyes, borrowed heels that hurt my feet.
I look like exactly what I am: a nobody who forgot her place.
Tomorrow, I'll have to face school. Face Crew. Face Madison and her poison smile. Face everyone who will know I was stupid enough to believe I mattered.
But tonight, I let myself cry on a bus in a consignment store dress, mourning the death of the girl who thought she could be seen.