Maybe she could dance later. Maybe. She didn't expect anyone to approach her, so when a voice came from her left, she turned quickly. "Do you want some punch?" a guy asked. He was tall with light brown skin and a calm expression.
His name was Trevor Sandival. They shared an English class. He held out a plastic cup toward her. "Oh, thanks," Marina said, surprised. Trevor shrugged lightly.
"You looked like you could use a friend right now. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, managing a small smile. "I mean, not really, but those three idiots weren't exactly subtle." Marina sighed. "I'm fine.
Just didn't think prom would start like this." Trevor sat down across from her. "People like them are loud because they know if they're quiet, no one would care they're here." She laughed softly. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Maybe a little." For a moment, it felt like things were settling. Marina sipped the punch, letting the sweetness calm her nerves. Trevor talked about college plans, how he wanted to study in Miami, how he hated math but loved photography. Marina found herself relaxing without meaning to.
But then the music lowered a bit, and a group of students near the entrance started laughing, hard, not regular laughter, the kind that says something bad is happening. Trevor looked over Marina's shoulder. His expression changed instantly. "Oh no." "What?"
Marina asked. Trevor didn't answer, but her stomach tightened. She turned around and saw them. Dylan and Brandon walked in, carrying a huge silver punch bowl between them, sloshing red punch everywhere. Students moved out of the way, whispering, some already filming.
Jace followed behind with a stack of cups and a smirk that made Marina's skin prickle. Trevor muttered, "Please tell me they're not." But she already knew they were coming for her. Dylan's eyes were locked on Marina like she was the final piece of some twisted joke. Marina stood up slowly.
"I'm not dealing with this tonight." Trevor rose with her. "Do you want me to get a chaperonee?" "No," she said firmly. "Just stay close."
Dylan approached like he owned the place. "Hey, Marina, we brought refreshments." Brandon held the bowl a little higher, letting some of the punch drip. Jace handed Brandon a cup and whispered loudly. "Should we pour it on her dress or just dump it all at once?"
A few people gasped. Marina felt eyes all over her. Trevor stepped forward. "Back off, man." Dylan's voice dropped.
"Move!" This has nothing to do with you." Marina watched them carefully, not afraid, not yet angry. Just done. Completely done.
"Put the bowl down," she said quietly. "Oh, she speaks," Jace teased. "Do it," she repeated, her tone sharper this time. Dylan tilted his head. "Or what?"
Trevor whispered toward her. "Marina, maybe don't engage." But she didn't back down. Her posture changed. Not dramatically, but enough.
Shoulders loosened, chin slightly raised, feet planted. Years of training had taught her something important. The first hit isn't always physical. It's the moment you decide you won't let someone push you anymore. And Dylan noticed.