“Sorry,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Hi, Shay.” She immediately turns back to Mr. B. “I thought we were going to go over the rehearsal schedule for next week.”

“Yeah,” Mr. B says. “Mm-hmm, yeah.”

“You forgot,” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

He laughs. “I forgot.”

“You’re killing me here.” She saunters over to his desk, pointedly ignoring me. “Did you figure out how much time you’re going to need to block the opening for Act Two?”

Blessedly, a phone call from Dad comes through at that moment. I answer immediately. “Hello?” I gesture an apology to Mr. B and retreat toward the door.

“Take the charger,” he says, pulling it out of the wall and pushing it toward me.

“Thanks,” I say, and hurry out of the room with Brittany glaring after me.

It doesn’t take Dad long to break the bad news. Soon after I hang up, Mr. B sticks his head out of his classroom door. “Any updates?” he asks.

“Our car broke down,” I say. Dad just got towed to the mechanic, so he won’t be able to pick me up anytime soon.

“Is someone coming to get you?” Mr. B asks.

“Um,” I say, glancing awkwardly back at my phone. Dad said he was going to figure something out, but there definitely wasn’t a plan in place yet.

That seems to be all the answer Mr. B needs. “I’ll drive you, then.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” I protest. “I live, like, forty-five minutes away.”

He smiles at me kindly. “How about this? We compromise. I’ll take you to the SkyRail station instead of all the way home. Do you have a stop near your place?”

The SkyRail is a high-speed bullet train that flies along most of the eastern coast of Florida. It’s only useful for going long distances, because the stops are really far apart, but there is a stop close-ish to my apartment. “Yeah,” I say, doing a quick mental calculation to make sure I have enough money to pay for a SkyRail ticket.

“Sounds good. I’ll pack up and we’ll go.” As he disappears into his room, I get a quick glimpse of the absolutely murderous glare Brittany is sending my way through the open doorway. Dang, why is this girl holding such a huge grudge about me having a lead role instead of her? She doesn’t seem to hate Ana the same way she hates me, so the whole thing is just strange.

“But I thought we were going to—” The door closes on Brittany’s words, leaving me to wonder what plans she could possibly have had with Mr. B this late in the evening. They’re way too intense about the musical.

So that’s how I end up in the passenger seat of Mr. B’s shiny black sedan as he flies us toward the local SkyRail station.