“I was going to say the old guy saved me but I wasn’t in real danger. Still, I was pretty terrified. Because I still didn’t know if Dylan was okay. By the time the old guy called the rescue squad and they got there, Dylan was out of the ropes and standing there. When no one was looking, he gave a little smile. Like ha-ha, good joke.”

“You feel Dylan manipulated you.”

“That’s the saddest thing. Losing trust. The whole thing was supposed to be about trust. Nora’s always teaching us about the artist’s life as constant danger. You’re always working without a net. Dylan was my partner and I trusted him. That’s why I went along with it in the first place.”

“Did it take him a while to talk you into it?”

She frowned. “He made it like an adventure. Buying all that stuff. He made me feel like a kid having fun.”

“Planning was fun,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“Buying the rope and the food.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Careful plan.”

Her shoulders tightened. “What do you mean?”

“You guys paid cash and used several different stores in different neighborhoods.”

“That was all Dylan,” she said.

“Did he explain why he’d planned it that way?”

“We really didn’t talk about it. It was like...we did so many exercises before, this was just another one. I felt I had to use my right side. Of my brain. Nora taught us to concentrate on using the right side of the brain, just kind of slip into right-brain stuff.”

“The creative side,” I said.

“Exactly. Don’t think too much, just throw yourself in.”

“Nora keeps coming up.”

Silence.

“How do you think she feels about what happened, Michaela?”

“I know how she feels. She’s pissed. After the police took me in, I called her. She said getting caught was amateurish and stupid, don’t come back. Then she hung up.”

“Getting caught,” I said. “She wasn’t angry at the scheme itself?”

“That’s what she told me. It was stupid to get caught.” Her eyes moistened.

“Hearing that from her must’ve been tough,” I said.

“She’s in a power role vis-à-vis me.”

“You try talking to her again?”

“She won’t return my calls. So now I can’t go to the PlayHouse. Not that it matters. I guess.”

“Time to move on?”

Tears ran down her face. “I can’t afford to study, ’cause I’m broke. Gonna have to put my name in with one of those agencies. Be a personal assistant or a nanny. Or flip burgers or something.”

“Those are your only choices?”

“Who’s gonna hire me for a good job when I need to go out on auditions? And also until this is over.”

I handed her another tissue.