You’re already at the top, tho

He texts back right away: A guy’s gotta maintain his status, Simone!!!

I grin before I can stop it. He’s so corny and I love it. I also wouldn’t mind eating pizza instead of my sandwich.

I glance up. Claudia and Lydia are standing around with some kids, totally engrossed in their discussion. I catch only snippets.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure non-binary people can identify as lesbians,” Claudia says. “But I don’t really know, since I’m not non-binary.”

“We can probably look it up,” Lydia suggests. “Or you can talk to Alex when they get here, maybe? They’re non-binary, too.”

I doubt they’d notice if I left. Most of these meetings consist of them talking while I sit in the corner and nod, anyway, and it looks like today’s meeting will be more of the same. We’re better off hanging out after school instead of here.

The door is still open. I pull my bag over my shoulder. If they notice I’m gone, I’ll make it up to them. I hold my breath and run out the door before either of them can call after me.

CHAPTER 21

Rehearsal is mostly normal on Saturday, even if I keep glancing at Eric every few minutes. If he knows that I met up with Miles yesterday, he doesn’t show it.

“Okay, so, notes,” I say, fisting a hand in my hair and trying not to sigh. “Eric, like I said, you’re gonna want to drop that accent. Everyone in the ensemble: You’re doing great, but some of you are reacting a little too much and it’s kinda melodramatic. Try to tone it down a little bit, especially if you’re in the front. Okay, let’s try it again.”

Everyone heads back to their spots except for the cast members in the front. Eric rolls his eyes. Claire inches closer to him, whispering something in his ear. His laugh is obnoxiously loud. She glances back at me with raised eyebrows, almost like she’s daring me to say something.

What if Claire knows about the notes? What can I say? I know you left me some creepy notes and I want you to stop? They’d just deny it. Confronting either one about it would make me look even more like I don’t know what I’m doing.

Once rehearsal is over, I toss my bag over my shoulder. Miles gave me his hoodie to wear, like we’re in a rom-com from the eighties—not that I’m complaining. It’s white and blue, our school colors, and too big for me. I like that it smells like him, that it’s warm, the way he is.