“Sure,” I say glibly, holding back a snort that would be very rude right now and that she doesn’t deserve. The average number of Friends on Facebook, for people who still use that monstrosity, is 338. So, fine: Corinne Troy and Henri Haltiwanger will be one of each other’s 338. I have to respect that.

“No,” she insists, tugging my arm, which is when I realize that she’s still holding my hand through all of this. “Not in the fake exes-who-don’t-mean-it way. Like, actual friends. I . . . don’t have that many.”

“Me neither,” I admit. “And you’re way prettier than Ming.”

I sigh. It’s not exactly what I want, but I’d rather have Corinne in my life as a friend than as nothing at all.

“Promise me, Halti,” she adds as we stand up. “Because if you friend-ghost me after all this, so help me God, I’ll train Palm Tree to develop a taste for human meat, and I’ll smoke a pipe while he savages you.”

“Jesus! Okay, okay, friends!” I say, meaning it with every fiber of my being. I’ll try. For the life of me, I will. “Friends.”

We walk out of the school together and make a point of not holding hands as Corinne catches me up on her last few weeks. As a friend. How Chantale has upgraded her “lover” to “manfriend,” how Corinne met with a bunch of other Princeton-bound students from around the city to celebrate/assess the competition.

Everything about FATE feels nostalgic. At this very moment, as I’m strolling through the darkened halls with Cori, the Fine Arts Technical Education Academy feels more important than wherever I end up. I distantly wonder if I’ll be one of the alumni of note the school is always making us clap for. Doubtful with a silver trophy and a tainted record, but who knows? Life is very long. Although then again . . . it’s feeling ridiculously short these days considering I’m only now getting used to these hallways.

“So, uh, what are you doing for senior prom?”

“Prom?” she says skeptically. “Were you just looking at a reflection of yourself during the entire conversation we just had?”

“I mean as a friend. Sheesh! I was going to pull a ‘Two Wild and Crazy Guys’ with Ming, but the three of us would have an amazing time together! You know we would.”

She shakes her head as we walk.

“Look, I can’t not go to prom. The whole system would collapse, frankly. It would just be a bunch of confused students walking around like zombies wondering where I am, and I can’t do that to my people.” I grin.

“I might bring a date,” she says carefully.