Yazmin hits her vape pen, thinking. I hate the quiet. It makes me nervous. I want to tell her how I’m feeling. I want to kiss again. I need to go after Anna but can’t leave now.

“Yo, August,” she finally says. “That kiss was nice. Fire, even. But Anna is a talker. Could you ask her not to tell anyone?”

My heart leaps off the balcony. “You’re ashamed of kissing me?”

“No, I have a boyfriend.”

“I thought you broke up?”

“But we’ll probably get back together. And this school loves gossip.”

I shake my head and swallow my feelings. “I need to go see Anna.”

She hits her vape pen again. “Yeah, go deal with that.”

The party somehow doubled in size in the ten minutes I was gone, and everyone seems ten times drunker. Someone is belting the lyrics of “Candy Store” from Heathers: The Musical. I see through the crowd that it’s Tess. Of course it’s Tess.

“Hey, buddy,” Elijah slurs with one arm around Duncan and the other around me. “Where did you go-go?”

“I ruined everything,” I admit.

“Oh, please. I like you, August. We’re going to be best friends. Let’s hang tomorrow and every day.”

“Sounds good, but I’ve got to run,” I say while searching the room for Anna. I don’t see her, and I’m getting dangerously close to missing curfew. I compose a text to Anna while waiting for the elevator.

“Nice job on that monologue,” someone says.

I look up from my phone and see Tess. “Thanks,” I say cautiously while pressing the elevator button, hoping that speeds it up.

“Way to use your trans identity to carry your performance.”

The elevator opens. I don’t respond; I just get inside and push the button over and over. “What’s next—” Her words get cut off by the doors shutting.

I ride the elevator down, wondering if coming here was a mistake. I should have stayed home. I’ll call Anna once I’m on the train. Or text her. FaceTime. I’ll figure it out. I push open the front door and almost trip over Anna, sitting on the top step hugging her knees.

She looks back, sees me. “I’m not waiting for you. I’m waiting for my car.”

I sit down and accept that I’m missing curfew. I’ll be punished however Aunt Lil sees fit, which will probably be eating meatless things for a month. “How many minutes?” I ask.

She checks her phone. “App says two.”

It looks like she might be crying. The weight of my guilt hits me hard. “I’m sorry, Anna. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Don’t feed me that clichéd bullshit,” she says.

“Anna, I’m sorry. I can’t lose you as a friend.”

“You lied to me, August,” she says.