“I know you don’t swing that way, so I told them you wouldn’t do shit like that,” he says. I make a sort of alarmed choking sound when I process what he’s just said. “Don’t worry, dude,” he continues. “I didn’t out you or anything.”

“But—but—” I can’t get a more coherent thought out for a few seconds. “That’s not like a fun rumor. That would be illegal. If they think that’s true, they’re cool with just chatting about it behind my back and doing nothing?”

“It’s not that deep,” Ed says, flapping a dismissive hand in my direction. “There have always been stupid rumors about him getting with students, but it’s just because so many of the witches are into him. Mr. B would never actually do something like that.”

There’s a moment, just a moment, where I think that Ed is wrong. I could imagine Mr. B doing something like that. But I think better of it before I go too far down that rabbit hole. I don’t like Mr. B anymore, sure, but that’s not a good reason to imagine that he’s guilty of every bad thing in the world.

“Anyway, did you and Ana get in a fight or something?” Ed asks.

My heart decides to relocate from its position in my body and search for a new owner. It takes me about five seconds too long to regain my chill. “Ed, for real, get out of my business,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Did you just come over here to gossip with me about myself?”

“Bruh, no shame in being nosy. That’s how I get the good info.”

I snicker. “Yeah, okay.”

Mikey appears behind Ed and lightly smacks him on the shoulder. “Dude, are you bugging her again?” he says.

“Of course not. Me and Shay are besties,” Ed says. He folds his hands on top of his head and grins at me. I shake my head good-naturedly. Even when Ed is being annoying, he’s kind of charming about it. Plus, he’s one of the few people in the cast who tries to include me in things, which I appreciate.

Mikey’s eyes flick over to me. “Is he bothering you?”

These are legitimately the first words Mikey has spoken to me outside of a scene rehearsal in a week. “No, he’s fine,” I say.

“Okay.” Mikey lingers there, digging the toe of his sneaker into the stage floor. He clearly wants to say something, so Ed and I watch him silently. This goes on for so long that I grasp for anything I could say to make this less weird. “Are we cool?” he says finally.

“You and me?” I ask.

He nods.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Cool.” He smiles, a bit self-consciously. “Cool.” And then he walks off without another word.

“That was touching,” Ed says, pretending to wipe away a tear.