I would say something else, but there are more people walking toward the entrance. Even Auntie Jackie appears, pulling me in for a long hug. Not everyone in the crowd is coming inside—I can see some people walking back to their cars—but I don’t even care. They could throw tomatoes at me and I wouldn’t care now.

More and more people file in, either awkwardly acknowledging me or just pretending I’m not standing here. I’m not sure how much of this is because of what I said and how much is because they already spent money on tickets.

“Are they just going to pretend they weren’t, like, demanding my expulsion?” I ask, turning toward Mr. Palumbo. “That happened, right? And they’re just ignoring it.”

“People don’t like to admit their mistakes.” He presses his lips together. “When that seemed like the general goal, more people supported it. Now this seems like the right thing to do.”

“Because you basically told them that they were being stupid assholes,” Miles steps in. “And they could’ve yelled at you about it, but they would’ve looked even worse. So they went with it.”

“Do you think any of them actually heard what I said, though?” I ask, resisting the urge to claw my hands through my hair. “Because I really thought that out.”

“If even one person learned something, you succeeded,” Mr. Palumbo says. “And I learned a lot. Now we’ll see the show through different eyes.”

“Same,” Miles says. “I mean, I already knew a lot of that stuff, because you told me. And because I know how to use Google.”

“Shut up.” I shove him. “You don’t count.”

“Oh my goodness, Simone.” I don’t get the chance to respond before I’m wrapped up in Pops’s arms. “I was looking for you earlier. Where did you go?”

“I sort of hid in the closet,” I say into his chest. “Something you’re familiar with, right?”

I’m expecting him to lecture me, at least to save face in front of other people, but he just laughs. My feet aren’t touching the ground, and for a second, I think of his bad back. He’s probably going to crack it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder,” Dad says, appearing behind him. “It’s really important that you know that, Mony.”

“I do,” I say, blinking back tears. Pops puts me down, and I gesture behind me. “Guys, this is Mr. Palumbo. He’s the reason I’m doing this tonight.”

They shake hands, and Miles nudges me again.

“Do I get to sit with you backstage?”

If he sits with me, we’re not going to be watching, and he knows that. I roll my eyes.

“Come on,” I say, pulling at my parents’ hands. “I want you to see the show.”

“As long as we can find seats.” Pops grins.