As soon as I step outside Mr. Daniels’s office, I deflate like a popped balloon. I give my binder a yank, trying to loosen it up. I’m glad the hallway is empty—no witnesses to my walk of shame. I exit the building, into the sunshine, and head toward the subway completely in my head about Mr. Daniels. I should have asked him if Anna is the reason I’m here. I just want to know. He doesn’t like my Funny Guy routine. He expects more of me. I need to get serious. I need to play the part of Serious Student.

My thoughts are disrupted by a sharp whistle. Yazmin waves from across the street. I look behind me for someone else—she can’t possibly be trying to get my attention—but no one is there. Her wave turns into a “come here” movement. Is this really happening? And now?

I cross the street and try to forget about Mr. Daniels. I stop in front of Yazmin. Put my hands in my jeans pockets. “That’s quite a whistle,” I say.

“Keeps me safe.”

“I believe it.”

“I guess we don’t connect as scene partners,” she says.

As if I needed another reason to feel terrible about today. “I’m sorry, Yazmin. I got nervous, made a choice, and went with it. Strong and wrong, right?”

“More like loud and dumb,” she says, smiling.

“Can you forgive me?” I ask.

She laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

For Yazmin, I can be the Playful Guy. I put one hand on my heart and the other in the air. “Please, Yazmin, find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“You’re hard to figure out,” Yazmin says.

“How so?”

She shrugs. “This mysterious cute boy shows up in class one day out of nowhere?”

“I prefer International Man of Mystery,” I joke.

She laughs again. “But do you have what it takes to be at SPA?”

“I know I do,” I say.

“Prove it.”

“Gladly.”

She looks around, then grabs my arm, and we walk in the direction of the bus stop. Yaz sits down on the bench, near two older ladies, and slumps down. I have no idea what’s going on. “I can’t believe you cheated on me,” she says, loud enough for the women to hear. They both look at me. I look at her and she’s got wild eyes. “With my best friend!”

I hear a small gasp from one of the women. We are doing a scene for an audience of two. “You gave me no choice,” I say, then raise my hands up, “when you cheated on me with MY BROTHER.”

I peek at the women, both watching. Yazmin takes my hand. “I couldn’t handle it anymore. You telling me what to wear and what to eat. You can’t control me.”

“You signed the contract,” I say calmly.