I nearly trip in my haste to follow after him, his hand warm in mine, even though his rings are cool to the touch. He leads us all the way to the main entrance, near the auditorium, although he looks a little lost the farther he progresses into the hall.

Our school is relatively large. It’s one of the top schools in the city and students come from all over the boroughs—well, not from Staten Island, but Staten Island barely counts as a borough—to attend, given they have the grades and pass the mini entrance exam.

Our alumni have gone off to break records and win awards and all that jazz. There’s a healthy flow of donations coming in, so we don’t lack for much. Our halls are bright and open, our textbooks new and pristine, and our amenities large and expansive.

A lot of our school comes from low-income households, and our school accommodates them in the best way possible, providing any and every resource they might require. I often feel grateful for the chance to attend Astoria Academy of the Arts and Sciences at all, since a lot of my friends from middle school don’t have the same experience at their own high schools.

At AAAS, we have three separate gyms—one for volleyball, one for basketball, and one for gymnastics, as well an outdoor track and a field for baseball and cricket. Similarly, our planetarium has all the latest technology, our library has hundreds and hundreds of books in great condition, and our botanical garden has excellent upkeep.

Even our auditorium was recently renovated, and Rosie and I often spend hours in there, brainstorming away for film club.

It’s no surprise Grant came here. His dad is one of our most famous alumni. It’s probably also why Emmitt was sent here—on what seems to be some kind of undercover mission to learn about American high schools—instead of somewhere else.

It’s lucky that Emmitt is eighteen and can still pass for a senior. If he’d been just a year older and had his jawline been just a little sharper, I’m not sure that anyone would buy it.

At any rate, he looks like a child in a zoo when he finally falters in the middle of the hallway to look back at me. A hint of panic is hidden behind his long lashes. “We have to find a location today.”

“Today?” I ask, blinking. He’s still holding my hand, making me antsy for reasons I can’t quite put into words. “I don’t even know what the prompt is—”

Almost immediately, he drops my hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket, then shoves it in my direction.