Reid’s fingers tap against his thigh in half notes, legato. The beat Reid taps in the minutes before a math midterm, or after the last lesson with my dad before a competition.

He exhales. “You got screwed. It sucks.”

“He says before returning to the band room,” I say.

Reid shrugs. “I’ll just talk to your dad after Chemistry.”

Before I respond, the bell rings and students flood the hallway. I make it a point to actively not engage with how much overlap there is in our schedules, but we have AP Chemistry together. I can’t exactly storm off. So we walk together, our steps syncopated. Reid’s mouth twitches, like the corners are trying to turn up. It’s weird. Walking next to Reid Callahan is weird.

Of course the science wing is on the other side of the building, as far away from the band room as you can possibly get. We follow murals that depict the stages of mitosis toward the end of the narrow hall to Ms. Santiago’s classroom. It’s the last on the left, adjacent to an alarmed emergency exit. Reid’s classes overlapping with mine is almost emergency enough to push through those double doors and bolt. Especially when he opens his mouth again.

“We could use another clarinet, you know.”

His words stop me midstep. It’s such a ridiculous statement, I wonder if I’m in a fever dream.

My laugh echoes down the hallway. “You’re joking.”

“It’s too easy, simply being the best,” Reid says. “Don’t you miss the competition?”

I shake my head. “No. I really don’t.”

I just—this is why Reid and I will never have a normal conversation. His default setting is contriving a competition with me, even when there is nothing left to compete over.

“So you’re just going to, what—?” He shakes his head. “Stats, chemistry, psychology, bio… your schedule is soul-sucking, Natalie.”

“Why do you care?” I ask.

Reid stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I don’t. But now that Melted is over—”

Nope. I cannot even. I lengthen my stride until I’m in front of Ms. Santiago’s room and push the door open. I take the empty seat next to Fitz in the back-center table.

“Are you okay?” Fitz whispers, her eyes flickering in the direction of Reid’s seat.

“I didn’t get sent to the office. Are you okay?”

Fitz rolls her eyes. “Caroline puts on a tough show. But by the end of the lecture she was apologizing to me for not handling this morning better!”