The next day marks a week since my first encounter with Emmitt—not that I’m counting the days. It’s just hard not to be hyperaware of the fact a week ago I inadvertently fucked up our chance of winning the Golden Ivy Film Festival. When the bell rings after ninth period, signaling the end of the school day, I sit in my seat for a few extra beats, absolutely drained by the world around me.

I almost want to tuck my tail and go home instead of to the film club meeting, where Grant will most likely deliver more terrible news. Yesterday, Rosie and I brainstormed with him for nearly two hours only to come up with absolutely nothing. It turns out that Grant and Emmitt met for the first time only last week, and he also knows little to nothing personal about the indie film star.

At this rate, I’m half tempted to perform a ridiculous skit in the middle of the cafeteria in the hope it’ll convince Emmitt how serious we are about the short film.

Just two more months, I remind myself for the umpteenth time. Then all of this will be over. I’ll know whether I got into USC, and our application for the Golden Ivy student film competition will be turned in.

I finally drag myself out of my English classroom and cross the hall to my locker. For a moment, I don’t even bother opening it, leaning my head against the sea-foam locker and sighing quietly.

“Mina?”

I turn around immediately, recognizing one of the freshmen from film club.

“Christina,” I say, offering her a tired smile. “What’s up?”

She scratches her head, looking unsure. She’s one of the more outgoing freshmen in the club, so her withdrawn expression pings a red flag in my brain. I soften my expression, hoping it comes across kinder.

“Is something wrong?” I ask quietly.

Christina looks down, muttering, “Rosie told me to come find you. She said you might have some advice? My dad doesn’t want me to come to film club anymore. He says it’s pointless, and I just... I don’t know what to do.”

I frown, leaning my shoulder against my locker. I wish Rosie would have warned me before sending Christina my way. This isn’t the first or last time one of our club members is going to deal with this situation, but it never gets any easier.

“I’ve been there. It’s rough when our parents aren’t as supportive of our dreams as they should be.” I level her a serious look. “If you keep coming to our meetings, are you going to be in an unsafe situation? Or are you going to face mild disapproval? Or maybe something else entirely? Don’t downplay it. I’m asking because I don’t want to give you advice that could hurt you in the long run.”