“Fine, fine, fine! Look, Evie Hooper is having a party this weekend,” I concede, hands on my hips, trying to work out the speediest fix to this. “I will introduce you to some folks there. I will . . . fluff your social self, to be as graphic as possible.”

Corinne smiles, looking satisfied. “Do you really think that’s all it will take? Walking into a room with your thumb of approval?”

“Yup,” I say with a firm nod. I walk back into the building first, and she follows suit. Our lobby isn’t exactly a space for tête-à-têtes or advanced blackmail. “Take it or leave it,” I say, with crossed arms, casually leaning against the mailboxes for full effect.

“Fine,” she gives. “It’s a start.”

“Deal,” I tell her with a nod, and wonder if this day could possibly get any worse. “See you tomorrow.”

Six

7:02 PM

Ming: Corinne Troy? You invited Corinne Troy?

She invited herself! I text back. Long story. I’ll fill you in.

“Henri, for God’s sake!” I hear Dad whine, actually whine, from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I’ll be one minute!”

“You said that twenty minutes ago! It’s an emergency.”

“Oh, God, Dad, just come poop already. I’m doing my hair,” I say, brushing against the grain with one hand and applying conditioner to the top curls with the other. “It’s a delicate process. I can’t just stop. Do your business, I don’t care,” I say, trying to open the door with my elbow to let him in.

He slams it shut right away. “N-no,” he says, although he sounds like he’s considering it. “Just hurry up, all right?” I hear him grumbling as he makes his way to the kitchen, pacing up and down.

“I’ll be home by one a.m., tops,” I say through the door, returning to the delicate operation happening around my edges. One wrong step and my curls end up looking like Sideshow Bob on uppers.

“Two a.m. is fine.” Dad sighs through the door.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“You crossed a big threshold this week,” Dad says through the door. “You deserve a night out.”

“R-right. Thanks.”

Well, shit. Look, I didn’t lie, all right. Not technically. Donielle Kempf was a character, and I did technically elicit a lot of laughter throughout the exchange. He wanted a word-for-word recounting, and it’s amazing how different You’ll end up exactly where you’re supposed to be can sound when you’re telling your dad you’re as good as in. Besides, I’m going to fix this—I’ll talk to Vu and get another interview, and my dad will never know the difference.