Adam opens his mouth to say something else, but then he closes it again. He smiles a little at me, and I smile back, and all of a sudden it’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

“What did your parents say when you told them you’d gotten it?” I ask.

“They, uh… they weren’t thrilled,” he says. “Well, my mom kinda was, but she couldn’t really say it out loud—not when my dad was going off about how I’d gone to the audition behind their backs and all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ah, it’s fine. They’ll be over it by opening night.” He smiles again, but I can see right through him. I know how much he wishes his parents understood that he was born to be on a stage and not to take over the family business.

My stomach falls. I hadn’t thought about the fact that the last few weeks must’ve been hard for Adam, too. Not only did I rain on his parade right after he got the biggest news in his acting career so far, but he’s had to deal with his family’s reaction as well. And with the end of the school year coming up, I wonder how he’s been balancing rehearsals, and projects, and studying for finals. He hasn’t asked if we can study together like we always do, hasn’t come to me for help. I want to ask him how he’s been doing with trig, whether he needs me to tutor him, but I stop myself as soon as I remember that I wouldn’t be much help anyway. I’m trying to catch up, too.

“How are rehearsals going?” I ask him.

The corner of his mouth twists involuntarily into a wider smile, and this time, it seems genuine. “They’re going great,” he says. “I mean… I’ve only been to a few so far. I’ve had to leave school early to make it to the theater on time, but it’s been awesome.”

“Well, the school year is almost over, and you’ll be able to focus on that for the summer.”

“Exactly,” he says, nodding once. “How about you? Are you thinking of doing that workshop again this summer?”

“No,” I say quickly. Last year, I took an acting workshop at the New York Public Library, but I haven’t even had time to think about doing something like that this year. “I might just try finding an online course or something. I think—”

“What I think,” Kimmie says, appearing between us suddenly, “is that we’d be much better off with a drink in our hands.”

I turn toward her. “Is Darryl not coming?” I ask. I’m hoping he will. I’m sure he would help break the tension between the three of us a bit, but Kimmie shakes her head.