He comes to stand beside me, his eyes scanning the sheet, though we both already know he got the role. This film hinges on his performance. Sofia’s ex-boyfriend also auditioned for the role of Nick, and maybe if Emmitt wasn’t here, he would’ve gotten it.

But Emmitt is here, so there’s no point wondering about what would have happened.

What matters is the future ahead of us.

Emmitt turns to me, a smirk on his face, but it disappears as soon as he takes me in. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing,” I say quietly.

I turn my back on him and start walking toward my locker, ignoring the flurry of drama club members I see heading for the bulletin board, speaking in loud, excited tones.

A moment later, Emmitt wraps his hand around my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. I look at him, waiting for whatever it is he wants to say.

He stares at me, his eyes roaming my face, before his other hand rises, his fingertips brushing underneath my eye. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I need to go to my locker,” I say. “Please.”

It looks like he’s going to protest, but then he lets go of me, taking a step back. His voice is unsure when he says, “I’ll see you in Italian, right?”

“Yeah,” I say and head for my locker again. As I walk down the hallway, I feel Emmitt’s gaze following me, right until I turn the corner.

A breath locked away inside my chest releases in the form of a deep exhale.

The competition. I need to focus on the competition.

By the time film club rolls around, I’m exhausted. I want nothing more than to lie down for a few hours, maybe listen to some sad music, maybe cry at videos of cute animals.

But this isn’t something I can avoid. In fact, this is the last thing I can afford to skip out on.

When I reach the classroom, Ms. Somal is standing near the doorway, monitoring all the students filtering in.

“More stragglers than usual, Samina?” she asks when she sees me, gesturing to all the actors that have made themselves at home in her classroom.

“We’re starting the short film,” I say by way of explanation. “Today is an introductory meeting.”

“Already?” Ms. Somal blinks. “Time passes so quickly.”

“And yet not quickly enough,” I mutter to myself. Ms. Somal gives me a bemused look but doesn’t ask me anything as I pass her to enter the room.

Rosie is already seated on the desk, and I join her, setting down my book bag and pulling out my short-film journal.