I keep smiling like I’m supposed to, but it definitely looks less like I’m enjoying myself and more like I’m gritting my teeth in frustration. The moment I relax and let Kevin lead, he throws me out for a turn in the wrong direction. Ana smoothly moves out of our way so she can do her jump without kicking me in the process. She flies up in the air, and I can’t help but admire how effortlessly beautiful the leap looks, even though I’ve seen her do it a million times. When she lands, she spins upstage and scrunches her face up at me for a moment before dancing away.

When we finish the number, Mr. B ambles down the aisle, doing a slow clap. I can tell he’s sweating all the way from here. He looks permanently tired these days, since he insists on running the magical effects full-out for almost all of our rehearsals. During this number alone, he shrinks all the set pieces and makes several sections of the stage floor permeable, which creates a trapdoor effect that half the cast disappears into.

“Not too shabby,” he says, winking at Brittany. “You’re whipping these goons into shape, huh?” Her face splits into a wide smile, and she tucks her hair behind her ear shyly. “Shay, can I grab you for a second?”

Brittany’s smile dies as quickly as it appeared. I let out a tiny sigh. “Yeah, sure.”

I follow him out of the auditorium. We fall in step next to each other in the hallway, and he heads in the direction of his classroom. “Did you turn in your intent form?”

My heart rate speeds up just hearing him mention the application. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, looking pleased. “I’m sure you didn’t have any problems finding people to nominate you.”

I shrug modestly, but he’s right.

“I would have loved to nominate you, but that would be a ‘conflict of interest,’ ” he says, putting air quotes around the phrase. “But you’d better come to me for your college rec letters. I’m a lean, mean, college-recommendation-writing machine.” He makes a fist and glares at me with a face I think is meant to look tough. I laugh politely. “Can’t wait to see your full application in a couple weeks. I’m sure it’ll be killer.” He claps me on the back.

“I hope so,” I say.

“How’s it going so far?”

“Good,” I say. “I’m mostly done with the essays and stuff. I just have to take the MATs this weekend.”

We arrive at his classroom, and I’m confused about why we had to go all the way here. “Don’t psych yourself out comparing yourself to other people,” he says sagely, holding the door open for me.