Okay, so maybe I’d been so fixated on how I could look impressive that I had forgotten that I could even more easily make a complete ass of myself. Whoops. “Yikes,” I say with a goofy swipe of my forehead before remembering that I am being uncool and I need to shift the attention elsewhere immediately. “So what are you guys thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking about singing,” Kayla says with a hint of bashfulness in her voice. “Or maybe doing a monologue.”

“Ooh, I was thinking the same!” Heather’s warm brown eyes light up, and I watch as she, Kayla, and Maya spin off into a conversation about how much they love drama and music and theatre and lights and camera and action. (Well, maybe not action.) If I didn’t feel like an outsider before, I certainly do now.

“Do you know what you’re gonna be doing, Evie?”

I blink at the sound of my name; apparently, I’ve been watching them without really listening. But now Kayla’s just asked me a question and Heather and Maya—and Salem and Sabrina, who definitely think I don’t notice them peeking over like the little weasels they are—are looking at me with curious interest, and I have no idea what to say, other than that I do not want to concede that I am wildly unimpressive in front of these people.

“I may do something with some friends” comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I regret it immediately. Faster, if possible. Because I can see them all trying to figure out who exactly my friends are who are not seated at this table, and frankly, that is a very good question.

The silence that drags out after that is almost worse than if they’d actually just asked, and I’m trying to recall everything I know about physics to see if I can make myself melt into the floor when Salem finally says, “Just warning you that if it’s baton twirling, I’ve heard Hoffman likes to jump in and relive his high school glory days.”

“Noted,” I say with a grin as everyone else jumps in with jokes and guesses about what various staff talents would be. It’s tremendously gratifying when I make everyone, including Salem, crack up with the mental image of Mrs. Frank breakdancing, to the point where I almost forget that now I really have to go and beg Isabel to do something with me.

Almost.

Chapter Nine