Page 70 of Murder on the Upper East Side

The day after Bash’s party, she’d finally gotten up the nerve to text Grace and admit she was undecided. A week later, Grace had left her on read.

As spring bloomed and National College Decision Day approached, so did prom. It was impossible to ignore the increasingly elaborate promposals being staged in and outside school walls. Hannah wasn’t expecting to get one, nor did she want to. Theo was as squarely off-limits as he’d always been, and besides, he was going in a group with Bash, Madison, Beatrice and Elle. Maybe she’d join the five of them, or maybe she’d ask Oliver to be her date, as friends. What a relief to realise how little it mattered.

But despite her prom apathy, the flashy displays of adolescent bravado and yearning were undeniably entertaining. Tyler Marsden had sealed the deal with longtime crush Samantha Winters with a Ferragamo shoulder bag filled with rose petals. In a huge coup, junior Meghan Parrish had gotten a yes from seniorBlake Lowell with a massive box of rainbow macarons from Mille-feuille Bakery, the tops of each pastry painted in food-safe gold to readWill you prom with me?

When Hannah and Ami arrived at Ami’s homeroom on Thursday morning – Ami emphatically did not need an escort, but her room was on the way to Hannah’s, so the sisters occasionally walked together – Hannah was unsurprised to find the classroom bursting with silver and crimson balloons, a nod to the Prescott colours. The students, and a bemused-looking Ms Sharma, stood outside the classroom door.

Tyler stepped forward, extending a wooden dowel with a pointy tip. ‘Better get popping before your date smothers himself.’

Ami’s eyes widened. ‘Me?’

Tyler pointed to a ribbon tied to the flat end of the dowel, and Hannah leaned over her sister’s shoulder to read.Ami Miller, will you go to prom with me?

‘She’s only a sophomore,’ one of Ami’s homeroom classmates muttered.

‘Patricia’s going,’ another girl replied. ‘You just have to be invited by an upperclassman.’

‘Go on,’ Ms Sharma urged. ‘You’ve got four minutes until the bell and quite a few balloons to pop.’

Face radiating unmitigated glee, Ami accepted the dowel and stepped up to the classroom door. Hannah hung back, watching her sister work her way inside the room. Unease sloshed in her stomach. She believed Beatrice that Bash had never been into Ami,but she wouldn’t put it past Sebastian Beaumont to use Ami as leverage to get to Elle. Bash was supposed to be going to prom in a group, but would he really want to spend the night with Elle, as friends? Especially after Madison had torn him a new one on the rooftop over break. She envisioned Ami politely turning him down, then Elle comforting a ‘heartbroken’ Bash…

‘You.’ Ms Sharma turned to Tyler, a plastic garbage pail liner in her hand. ‘You and Alex set this up. Now, get to cleaning.’

Alex.Hannah let out an audible sigh.

Tyler scowled, but accepted the bag. As he trailed Ami into the classroom, plucking popped balloons off the floor, Hannah let herself relax. Of course this wasn’t a Bash Beaumont production. She wasn’t sure what a Bash-designed promposal would look like, but surely it would involve something far more unusual than a room filled with balloons.

Over their time at Prescott so far, Alex had come across as remarkably down to earth for a child of exceptional privilege, in comparison to his sister. Hannah’s thoughts travelled to the wedding on Montauk, sharing glorified cheesy poufs with Alex in the drawing room.I was supposed to ask your sister. Kind of like as a date? Butmysister, the wicked witch of Park Avenue, forbade it.

That had been nearly four months ago. Now, Alex was finally making his move. Hannah smiled. Good for Alex – and Ami.

The warm feeling didn’t last long. Hannah turned to find Madison standing beside her, red hair twisted into a messy-on-purpose bun, glowering.

‘DuPonts do not do promposals.’ Her cinnamon brown eyes flashed. ‘I warned Alex.’

Hannah’s pulse spiked. Ami was almost at the end of the room, only a few balloons remaining. Alex was visible now, perched on the windowsill with a sign readingAMI MILLER FOR PROM QUEENin wide block letters, an enormous grin splitting his face. Ami’s entire homeroom class had their phones out, filming the moment.

‘Who cares?’ Hannah couldn’t help herself. Yes, promposals were undeniably kitsch, but so what if Alex wanted to ask Ami to prom with a thick layer of cheese? ‘Let them have their rom-com moment.’

It was the wrong thing to say, or maybe there’d been no right thing. Madison stepped into the room, shoving Tyler and his trash bag aside. The sound of her heels clacking against the herringbone oak floors made Alex and Ami’s heads snap towards her.

‘This?’ Madison gestured between them. ‘Is not happening.’

Hannah’s heart leapt to her throat. Too late, she realised thatthiswasn’t about Alex and Ami at all. Or at least not entirely. True, Madison had thwarted Alex’s prior attempt to ask Ami out, in a move that was probably as much about exerting power over her younger sibling as it was about approving or not approving of his taste in girls. But there was more toit. Madison had sensed the shift in Hannah’s attitude since break, had watched her disengage from the Madison and Elle Show, and now Ami was going to pay the price for Hannah’s lack of fealty.

Fuck.

Ami’s face was pure horror. Helpless, Hannah watched Madison step to her sister’s side and wrap a slender arm around her shoulders. She addressed Alex. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, dear Ami’s parents have exacting standards. After her little spill down the stairs upstate, she won’t be attending this year’s prom.’

Tears sprang to Ami’s eyes. Hannah couldn’t keep watching this. She stepped into the room, pulling Ami away from Madison’s clutch. She half-expected her little sister to tell her to get lost, but instead, Ami turned to her, cheeks wet, and buried her face in Hannah’s shirt.

‘Leave them alone,’ Hannah said to Madison. ‘You know this isn’t about them.’

Madison ignored her, turning instead to her little brother. ‘And you.Thisis beneath you. Child’s party balloons and a sign drawn with… is thatSharpie?’

‘Fuck you,’ Alex muttered. His cheeks were flaming red, a match for his hair. The lovingly written sign fluttered to the floor.

Ami looked up from Hannah’s shirt, gaze travelling between Alex and the doorway, where a dozen of her classmates were still filming, clearly revelling in this unexpected gem of a promposal turned takedown.