“The other kids in the cast and crew, plus the advisors and staff, have put so much work into this production,” I say, my voice even firmer. “I’m incredibly proud of all that we’ve achieved.”

I pause. I don’t know what else to say without snapping at them. They’re staring at me now like I’m giving a TED Talk. Bringing up how angry I am probably isn’t going to help; maybe another time.

“If you really care about your kids being exposed to good influences, you’ll start with yourself and your own behavior,” I continue. “Don’t let ignorance ruin your chance to enjoy this show we worked so hard on. When it comes down to it, everyone who worked on this musical is part of a team—one you should be rooting for.”

The silence is unnerving. I usually don’t like silence, and it’s even worse now. I’m not sure if I should tell them to come inside, or just lead by example. I don’t really think that there’s anything else I can say. After all, I’m not going to apologize.

“That was good,” Miles says, leaning close to my ear. His voice is soft, like we’re sharing a secret. “Like, really good.”

I could wait for one of them to start apologizing, but something tells me that it’s not going to happen. Instead, I kiss him. It’s soft and quick, but it lasts long enough for a collective low gasp.

He’s the one who got me to come out here, and now I don’t feel so scared. I don’t care if other people know. I want them to know that Miles and I kiss. Not just to prove a point, but because he’s Miles. I want to kiss him everywhere, in front of everyone.

No one has anything to say. I’m guessing they’re quiet because they’re embarrassed, because they know they treated me like shit. I want them to be upset with themselves. All of them were jerks together, but it’s like none of them want to admit to it, choosing to share uncomfortable glances with each other instead.

Mr. Palumbo clears his throat. I pull away, winking at Miles. His grin makes me want to kiss him again. How am I supposed to look at him and not want sex? There are so many feelings exploding inside my chest. It’s so much more than what I expected.

“The doors will be opening now,” Mr. Palumbo announces. “You can go to the crew members wearing all black to take your seats. If you decide not to come, however, we can’t offer a refund for your ticket.”

Those tickets are fifteen dollars apiece. I want to hug him so hard that I crush his bones.