“But,” she says, “you don’t have to think of this as a bad thing.”

“What?” I can’t tell if I’m misunderstanding or if she’s trying to be deep. “I don’t even know how that would—”

“I’m sure other people would feel bad if they knew what happened,” she says, lowering her voice even more, like she’s giving me a hint about a birthday present. “Especially some of the judges at the High School Theater Awards.”

I blink. For a second, I’m speechless.

“You know what?” I snap. “Screw you.”

She has the nerve to look offended. “Simone—”

“Ms. Klein,” thunders Mr. Palumbo. We both turn to look at him. He’s in front of us, blocking the door so no one else can see. He must’ve followed us out here. “I’m going to ask you to leave rehearsal for today. This is a safe space, and that rule applies to all students.”

“You’re not my superior,” she says, red traveling up her neck and into her cheeks. “I still have so much to tend to here, and I don’t appreciate being spoken to like I’m one of the children.”

“We can take it up with the principal, if you’d like,” Mr. Palumbo says. Some of the kids murmur ooooh. Even from over here, a swift look from him shuts them up. “I don’t mind cancelling the rest of the rehearsal.”

“Fine, let’s go,” Ms. Klein says curtly, marching down the hall. He moves to follow her but then stops in front of me.

“You’re very brave, Simone,” he says.

I don’t get the chance to reply before he’s gone, leaving everyone to stare at me. I feel like a goldfish trapped in its bowl. But goldfish never have this many people watching them. Some kids jump offstage and walk closer. God, I almost feel like a Kardashian.

“Simone,” Eric starts. “You don’t have to—”

“Just…” My voice stops. I don’t know what to say to any of them. I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to them when I’m not even sure what to think myself. “I need to be alone for a little while.”

I walk out the door. It’s only a few seconds before I hear footsteps, so I speed up. There are the deliberate footsteps of Lydia and the stomps of Claudia. I shouldn’t have expected them to give me more than a few minutes alone.

I settle inside one of the bathrooms. It smells like perfume and hairspray and deodorant but it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone around. Even so, I lock myself in a stall. It’s easier to cry in here. That’s something every high school has in common.