I can’t help but smile. Even if I can’t sing like them, if I’m not as talented, I helped make this. This moment is where I belong. Just being here. After all, that’s what theater is about.

I’m not expecting Claudia’s car to be the only one in the parking lot when I leave the building. I’m not sure what time it is, but the fading sun tells me that all the other clubs ended a while ago. Was Claudia supposed to pick me up? I don’t remember. I pull my backpack over my shoulder, glancing down at my phone. There are two messages from a number that I don’t recognize, all zeros. The first message is a picture: Miles and me sitting in his car somewhere. The second is a regular text: Next week.

My breath hitches in my throat. No air is getting in or out of my lungs.

It’s not just notes now. I knew someone had to be following me, but the pictures make it sickeningly real. But how the fuck are they taking pictures without anyone noticing? Eric couldn’t just leave school in the middle of the day to watch me, could he? Maybe I was right and he got someone to help him—but who?

I make my way to Claudia’s car on shaky legs. She and Lydia will probably tell me to report it to the principal, but this number, 000–000–0000, has to be fake. I doubt the principal would be able to trace it. Maybe Lydia or Claudia would know how. If I can figure out who’s helping Eric, I can make them stop.

“Hey,” I say, sliding into the back seat. My lungs can’t seem to take in any air, and talking doesn’t help in the slightest. “I’m sorry I’m late. I totally forgot you were gonna wait, and something happened—”

I catch Claudia rolling her eyes in the rearview mirror. My stomach drops.

“What?” I say, turning to Lydia. My skin is hot, and my chest heaves now that I can suddenly breathe again. I know she’s been irritated, but fuck, I can’t handle it right now. “I said I was sorry.”

“I know,” she says, turning to look at me. “But you could’ve texted or something. You know how Claude can get about these things.”

I do, but it’s not like I did this on purpose. Sometimes we just get caught up in our shit. There are times when I wait for Claudia or Lydia, and it’s never this big of a deal. They’re hanging me out to dry right when I need the two of them the most.

“What’s your problem, Claudia?” I snap. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around a lot, okay? We’re all busy.”