This was an obvious mistake. Coming here, listening to this . . . I wasn’t ready. But at the same time, I’d needed it. Everything looked sharper now. The air was charged in my lungs. I’d missed it and I hated that I felt this way, but anger still felt better than the awful numbness I’d endured since April. I loved this. I had no right to, but oh God, I did.

My phone buzzed, a text. Done now, you home? :)

Oscar must have picked up his phone the instant he put down his baton.

I’m here, actually, I texted back, swiping for the right, charmingly sheepish emoji. Lobby.

The door swung open from the hall. I pivoted, but it was a few people from the audience chatting quietly as they left. They looked familiar—friends of Dad’s?

The door behind them creaked again and Oscar burst through, holding the top of his head with both hands. “I had no idea you were here.”

The audience members turned, curious, and I realized they were Amberley board members. They must have turned out to see Oscar in action and found a bit more gossip than they’d bargained for.

They would talk no matter what we did.

Oscar rubbed his eyes, like he’d sleepwalked here. I could feel energy pulsing off him—macho, wired, massively distracted.

“You wanted to hang out?” I lifted my cell phone, entering it into evidence.

“Yeah, I’m done, let’s . . .” He pressed his fingertips to his lips.

I knew that expression—the look Dad got when he was listening to something only he could hear. Still, it was jarring, seeing it on Oscar.

I stepped back. “Do you want to grab dinner, or—?”

“I ate earlier.” His eyes met mine, fuzzy around the edges. “Could we hang out in my room? Is that . . . would that be okay?”

His room. My pulse quickened, deepening until I could feel it everywhere.

“I just . . .” He scratched his face. “I’ve got an idea for how to spice up the recapitulation and if I don’t get it down quickly, I’m afraid I’ll—”

“Oh!” I let out a tight laugh. “Right, yeah. That’s fine, let’s . . . get back.”

He sprinted out of the hall with me, waving vaguely to the board members as we passed them on our way to the sidewalk.

“Sorry to be so frantic,” he muttered. “I’ve never worked on something with this scope before and I usually have my school notebooks with me, you know? Something to jot the idea down on.”

“Write on me,” I joked, extending my arm as we hurried around the corner. “I’ve been trying to get a tan, but it hasn’t worked, so you might as well take advantage.”

“Do you have a pen?” Oscar asked, dead-serious.

“Oh.” I stopped walking and fished one out of my bag. “It’s purple. Is that weird?”