The moment when Mr. B stared at me keeps playing in my mind as I walk out of the auditorium. He’s never paid me special attention before. I’ve tried to make a good impression by saying hi at arts performances and volunteering for any events he would be at, but I’m far from being one of his favorites. I didn’t feel bad about it, though, because he doesn’t have a clear favorite in my grade. It always felt weird to suck up to him too obviously for the scholarship. I would rather just be the best candidate. I know that’s naive, but I’m pulling it off so far. Besides, there’s a whole scholarship committee, so Mr. B’s opinion isn’t the only one that matters.

It’s just the one that matters most.

“Shay?”

I whip around, startled, and Mr. B stands behind me, as if my thoughts summoned him.

“Do you have a sec?” he asks.

“Um. Yeah,” I say. Obviously, I have a second for him. Anybody with even a slight aspiration for the scholarship has a second for him.

“Great, thanks. Let’s go in my classroom.”

I follow him around the corner to the drama classroom, my heart beating wildly in my chest. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? I rack my brain but come up empty besides a fantasy scenario where he sings my praises and offers me the scholarship on the spot.

He holds the door to the classroom open for me to enter. “Nice hoodie,” he says as I pass him.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling self-consciously. “It’s my dream school.”

“It’s a great place.” He follows me in and leans against his desk. “Any particular reason you want to go there?”

I shrug as I sit on one of the black cubes strewn around the small room. “I mean, it’s a great school.” I pause. Mom’s voice echoes in the back of my brain, telling me not to sell myself short, so I jump to explain further. “I want to work in a magilab, and Willington has one of the best programs for getting into that.”

He nods slowly, looking impressed. “So you’re into transfiguration? Potionwork? Or . . . magical theory?”

“Potionwork. I want to develop new potions to help with magical diseases. But honestly any potion-development job would be good.”

“Oh yeah!” His face lights up with recognition. “You’re the potions genius. I had heard about that.”

My cheeks warm. I didn’t think Mr. B knew much about me. I’ve briefly spoken to him at fine arts events a few times, but I never got the impression that I particularly interested him before today. “I, um, I’ve just been super into potionworking since I was little. I was always begging my mom to let me make little kiddy potions in our kitchen.”