But here I am. Voluntarily. That’s unbelievable.

I hold my arms to my chest, watching through the window to the studio as my fellow company members rehearse, waiting patiently for the end of whatever routine they’re running. Bran and Celia dance next to each other now.

When the formation disperses, hands drop to hips and wipe noses, foreheads. That’s when Celia glances this way and catches my eye. Her brows shoot up.

I mouth Can we talk? through the window.

Celia looks around until she finds Bran and angles her head in my direction. After a moment, they both stride out of the studio.

I heave out a breath, my back seeming to throb along with my heartbeat. I feel a little woozy as they step into the room where I’m waiting. As they make their way toward me, my mind flashes to them fornicating. Celia’s dead expression. I close my eyes and shake the image away. This isn’t about them.

Celia stops a foot away from me, and Bran stops behind her.

“Hi, Siri,” she says hesitantly. “Are you—are you back?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m never coming back. I’m just here to say goodbye.” I look up at Bran. He won’t make eye contact with me.

“Oh,” Celia says.

“I wanted to tell you that, uh, you were my first real friends. Celia, I thought you were the coolest, most interesting person, and Bran, you were so handsome and talented. What y’all did really hurt, but I’m working on forgiving you. I’m going to forgive you. I don’t want to think of you as enemies. It’s a waste of brain space. I wish you had told me how you were feeling.”

They stare at me awkwardly.

I shrug. “Phew! Well, I don’t want anything from you, so that’s it!” I smile at them. “I forgive you! Have a good life.”

I pivot and walk out the door feeling like gravity has loosened her grip the tiniest bit, and it makes all the difference.

94. A Girl Works a Meeting

JAMIE

September 10, Thursday

New York City

“Penn!” I wave Z’s boss over to where I’m waiting at the coffee place next to his office. It’s another one of these minimalist places where they’ve tried to make the inside look like an outdoor patio by putting fake vines on the wall.

Penn sits across from me looking extremely confused. “Jamie?”

“Yep.”

“You cut off your super long hair.”

“Oh yeah, yep. I did that.”

“And dyed it orange.” He squints at me.

“Yep.”

“And got a nose ring.”

“Yeah.”

“And a … fresh scar over your eyebrow. All in the last four days.”

“Yep.”

“Did you decide comedy’s not for you and join a band? Is this … like, do you need a producer? That was fast.”

“No, Penn.”

“What happened?”