She’s openly weeping now as my montage continues to play.

“Good God, you’re brilliant,” Windsor whispers in awe as the red, black, and white balloons up above, held in a net to celebrate the end of the ceremony, are dropped. Only … they’re not balloons anymore. I had the students on the event planning team fill condoms with horse manure, courtesy of the equestrian club. They splatter all over Harper as she screams, covering the school’s most beautiful tyrant in literal shit.

“Now, how exactly is this hanging her with her own rope?” Creed whispers, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Well, you attract more flies with honey … and more horse shit by being a bullying asshole. Harper du Pont has pissed off almost every student in this school. I asked for help, and I got it. The other students were more than eager.” I shrug my shoulders because maybe, if I crossed my own lines just a little bit, it was worth it.

“Start the music!” Ms. Felton screams, and Pomp and Circumstance comes on for a third time, drowning out the recordings of Harper’s screaming voice as the staff pull her out of the sea of poop, a loose condom stuck to one ear, and drag her down the steps.

This is going to hurt, but it’s so worth it, I tell myself as I stand up and race over to her sobbing form.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” I ask, putting my hands over my mouth and trying not to laugh at the shit-covered condom earring she’s wearing. Harper pulls back her fist and punches me hard, right in the face. There’s an uproar from the audience as she’s wrangled back into submission, and I resist the urge to lick the blood from my lip. Her hand was relatively clean, but you know, horse crap and all.

The boys rush up to surround me, and I take a handkerchief from Tristan to clean my face with.

“Fucking Working Girl piece of trash! Whore! Slut!” Harper continues to dig her own grave as she’s dragged away, and I take the stage again, lifting the mic to my lips.

“Once again, on behalf of the students of Burberry Prep—” I start, trying to keep the sheer pleasure from my voice. But then I notice Dad, slumping forward in his wheelchair and falling to the pavement as Jennifer and the aide try to help him.

A scream tears from my throat as that stupid music just keeps on playing, and I jump down from the platform, hurting my wrist in the process, my knees digging into the grass and smearing my gown with dirt. I race forward, snagging the fabric yet again on the edge of one of the chairs as I race for the steps and up them, my hand skimming across the bannister.

“Dad, no,” I sob as people rush around us, a doctor announcing herself before she pushes me aside. I’m weeping now and shaking, trying to get to Charlie but being pushed aside. The boys are there in an instant, along with Miranda and Andrew.

“I’ve already called an ambulance,” Zack says panting and holding me back, so the doctor and the health aide can work on Dad. He’s dying, isn’t it? I think as shock rolls over me in a wave, and this disturbing sort of numbness creeps over me.

If we had to wait for an ambulance from town, it’d be over an hour before they’d get here. Because of the size of the event, the academy was required to have a fire engine, ambulance, and two squad cars on site. One of them is already driving onto the field and Harper is being put into the back of it. In just a few minutes, the other emergency vehicles arrive and Charlie is loaded onto a stretcher and put in the back of the ambulance.

“I want to go with him!” I shout, but there are already too many medical professionals in there for me to fit.

“I’ll get the car,” Windsor says, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looks to the other boys, and I vaguely realize that Tristan is somehow missing. “Be right back.” He takes off as I start to collapse to the ground, caught by Creed on one side and Zayd on the other, my eyes tracking the movement of the ambulance as it rumbles off, siren blaring.

My graduation gown—and my heart—are in tatters.

I feel like I’m drowning in sorrow as the uniformed officer nearest me grabs my elbow. Zack gives him a dirty look, but I hardly notice. All I can think is no, no, no, not my daddy, please don’t take my daddy away.

“Miss?” The policeman shakes me, and I blink stupidly in his direction, the cold waves of shock chasing away what little adrenaline I got from my stunt with Harper. Where is Tristan? My addled brain wonders as I look around, briefly confused. Where is Windsor? Oh. Oh, yes. He … he went to get the car. My hands are shaking so badly, my teeth chattering. I reach up anyway and grab my cap, smearing blood everywhere. Somehow, I think I cut the back of my hand when I raced past Ms. Felton’s chair.

“She’s in shock.” One of my boyfriends is talking, but I’m not sure who. All I can think is: will Dad live? I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that question, but I refuse to believe it. I can’t. I just can’t. Hands haul me to my feet, and I can hear people gossiping and chattering around me.

Fuck them though. Fuck all of them. My only concern now is how to get to the hospital as fast as I possibly can.

“Can we ride with her?” Creed asks. At least … I think it’s Creed. My vision has narrowed to a tunnel of focus, and my head is spinning.

“That’s her father, correct? In that case, we’re able to transport just her, I’m afraid, but we’ll take good care of her,” the officer explains, and then I’m being guided over to a police cruiser. Before I climb in, I shake my head to clear away some of the cobwebs and glance back at the boys, the ones who are still by my side. Tristan is gone. Windsor seems to be missing, too. I remind myself yet again that he just went to get the car. But where the fuck is Tristan?

I’m sorry, I’m sure I make no sense. I just … I’m in shock right now.

“Where are we going?” One of the officers opens the back door for me, and I pause.

“We can get you to the hospital with the sirens,” he tells me, and I nod because that makes perfect sense, even in the confused state of panic I’m in right now.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Zayd reassures me, his grip tight but firm. “Right behind you.”

My last great act of revenge is over, and I didn’t even get to enjoy it. That, and I had plans to talk with the guys tonight, let them know my final decision. Things were starting to come together, and now … I’ve never been so miserable. I’ve never hurt so much. How could this happen to Charlie? It’s so much worse than what I suffered during first year. So, so, so much worse.

A cosmic joke.

A middle finger from the universe.

“You’ll be right behind me …” I repeat, and then I climb into the police car. The red and blue of the sirens bathes the onlookers in color, including the boys I just left behind. I’d give anything for at least one of them to come with me, but Dad has to be my first priority. However I can get to him the fastest, that’s the route I’m taking.

As we back out of the stadium and head down the hill, I reach into my pocket for my phone and realize that in my scrambling to get to Charlie, I tore the gown and lost it somehow.

Figures.

Fuck.

The nearest hospital is … God, it’s like an hour from here, isn’t it? Since I feel like I’m about to puke, I lean over and put my head between my knees. Taking slow breaths, I manage to get my frantic pulse under control. The officers certainly have phones of their own. I’ll wait awhile, and then I’ll ask them to call the hospital for me.

The glass of the window is cool as I lean my head against it, shutting my eyes against the dark green of the trees as they pass by in a watercolor blur. The shock of seeing my dad, the man who raised me, the greatest love in my heart collapse must’ve really gotten to me. Either I fall asleep or I just lose time, I’m not sure, but when I open my eyes and sit up, I realize that we’re heading in the wrong direction.

“Isn’t the hospital due west from here?” I’m not exactly an expert on the terrain, but I can tell based on the mountains and the road that we are most definitely not heading back toward town. What the hell? The sirens aren’t on anymore either which is weird. And worrying. Very, very worrying.

“We’ll get you there, don’t worry,” the officer in the passenger seat tells me, but he doesn’t sound very reassuring. The longer we drive, the more concerned I get.

That’s when I see the abandoned casino up ahead, and my heart leaps into my throat.

The car’s wheels crunch across the gravel as I feel the first waves of true panic clawing at my throat. It’s not midnight yet, nowhere near it. I could still die today. I could fucking die.