The Queen Returns

Juniper Granger slammed the car door with her hip and slung her duffel over her shoulder. The drive had felt longer than she remembered, but she was home, so it was worth it. She frowned. Despite the hour, it looked like every light in the house was on.

This was supposed to be a surprise.

She hadn't told anyone she was coming home for the weekend—least of all her parents or Joey. She imagined their double-take when she strutted through the front door, the returning champion, home on respite to celebrate a successful conquering of academia. Maybe she'd even let Joey stammer something awkward before flicking his forehead and raiding the fridge.

Maybe.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

What she got instead, though, was music. Thudding, pulsing music. Laughter. Voices. A crowd.

Juniper stopped at the end of the driveway. Every light on? Loud music? That could only mean...

No. Not at her house. Joey would never be able to pull of throwing a party. He was such a loser! And their parents definitely didn't trust him enough to allow it, so there had to be another explanation.

She took a step back and looked at the house again. Had she accidentally parked in front of the wrong place? It was, after all, night time, and se was tired.

No. That would be stupid. This was her house. Her home. Where she grew up, where she lived since birth. There was no way that she would screw that up. It wasn't something wrong with the house, it was that something was wrong inside.

Bodies were spilling in and out the front door like soda foam. Kids in ripped jeans and crop tops, varsity jackets, tight skirts, and enough hair gel to fireproof a jet engine.

What the hell was going on?

She stormed up the steps and pushed open the door, her senses assaulted by body spray, perfume, red solo cups, and bass so low it vibrated in her bones.

A boy she vaguely recognized from Joey's year blinked at her. "Whoa—hey, you a senior?"

"I graduated, moron," she snapped, pushing past him.

Inside, it was worse. Way worse.

The living room was transformed. Lights dimmed, some sort of string-light nonsense strung across the ceiling. People dancing—dancing—like this was one of those movies Joey used to binge when he was twelve. Half the high school must be here. And not just the bottom-feeders. No. These were popular kids. The "too cool to talk to Juniper's little brother" crowd.

She clocked what looked like at least three cheerleaders, a handful of football players, and plenty of girls who were basically walking thirst traps in platform boots.

Juniper's brows furrowed.

Why are all these people here?

She trudged upstairs, nearly tripping over a couple making out against the banister. When she shoved open her bedroom door, she got an eyeful of a very topless guy and a girl giggling beneath him.

"Oh my god—seriously?!" she barked.

They both jumped. The guy looked like he might try to apologize, but Juniper slammed the door shut before she heard anything. She stood in the hallway, nostrils flaring, duffel still slung over one shoulder.

She needed answers.

She needed parents.

Or, failing that—ugh—Joey.

She made her way back downstairs, elbowing through knots of sweaty teens. Someone offered her a drink. Someone else winked. A girl whispered something behind her hand. The whole thing reeked of desperation and Axe.

She scanned the kitchen. No parents. The back deck. Nope.

Then she saw him.

Leaning against the dining room wall like he owned the place.

Joey.

Same shaggy hair. Same dumb posture. Same undersized build like someone forgot to click "adult male" on the character generator.

And surrounding him—oh, you've got to be kidding me—were three girls.

Four hot girls.

One with dirty blonde hair and big boobs, laughing at something he said. One with cinnamon skin and sultry vibes, tucked into his side like she lived there. And one, a hot asian girl who was nibbling on his earlobe. Not too far away, a beautiful Indian girl was staring at him as if he was the second coming of Harry Styles.

They weren't just around him.

They were orbiting him.

Touching him.

Giggling and brushing his arm.

Joey looked relaxed. Like this was normal. Like he wasn't Joey Granger, high school background noise.

Juniper’s jaw dropped.

Was this some kind of prank? A dare? A cult? Had she stumbled into one of those weird social experiments where they pretend the loser is cool to see what happens?

She stormed across the room, boots clicking hard against the floor.

He didn’t see her until she was right in front of him.

"Joey!" she shouted over the music. "What the hell is all this?!"