With that, we’re dismissed. Ana downs the Light as a Feather reversal potion and runs out. I take it as well, then make a beeline for where Mr. B and Brittany stand in the audience. Hopefully, I can pull him aside before the usual Mr. B fan club gathers.

“Mr. B,” I say, grabbing hold of a seat back to anchor my still-floating body. The potion kicks in, and my feet land on the floor in the aisle. “Can I talk to you?” Brittany plops down into the seat beside him, leaving her long legs splayed in the narrow aisle to block my path. I pause, casting a disgruntled look at her. Then I compose myself and turn a tentative smile on Mr. B. “Um, privately?”

He gives me a smile that seems tinged with . . . pity? I’m not sure. “Brittany and I have a planning meeting right now.”

“It’ll only take a second,” I insist.

A long moment passes, and I’m not sure if he’s going to brush me off. Finally, he gives me the barest hint of a nod. “Okay. Let’s go to the greenroom.”

Brittany lets out a long-suffering sigh when he gets up, as if him talking with me is some massive inconvenience. Whatever. I follow Mr. B backstage into the greenroom. He closes the door behind us.

The room feels smaller than it should with just the two of us alone in it. Mr. B eyes the gray sofa against the wall but doesn’t sit. Instead, he crosses his arms and stares at me. He looks tired. Exhausted, actually. He always looks worn out these days, especially after manipulating magic during rehearsals. Even so, his presence right now is mildly terrifying.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet Mr. B’s eyes. “What I said to Ed the other day,” I say haltingly. “You know I was joking, yeah?”

God, I hate myself right now. When I’m on the other side of the country at Willington, none of this will matter. If I have to tell a homophobic teacher I’m not gay to get there, so be it.

“What you said to Ed?” he repeats.

Come on. He knows what I’m talking about. “About me being a lesbian.” I say lesbian quickly, almost tripping over the word. “I was just trying to get him off my back.”

Mr. B grins at me, but there’s something hard and fake about it. “He can be persistent.”

“Yeah,” I say, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

“You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, Shay,” he says, still grinning at me. I wish he would stop. “Plenty of people have questions about their sexuality in high school.”