Mr. D rubs his forehead like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

I dig into the front pocket of my bag. “I’ll give them back,” I say. “I can make this right.”

As I look for the tickets, the ruby slippers tumble out. Before I can hide them, Kenzie grabs them off the floor.

“Are those my shoes?”

“I didn’t take those.” I sound guilty even to myself. “Someone gave them to me. For good luck.”

She doesn’t even bother to accuse me, just holds the shoes up like Exhibits A and B in this rigged trial on my integrity. I hold out the tickets to Mr. D, but Kenzie snaps them from me, careful to use only two fingers to avoid my skin.

Her eyes rest just above my shoulder like Mr. D’s did the first day I met him.

“Mr. D, I just don’t think she’s a good fit for the drama club,” Kenzie says as if I’m not in the room. Her flower perfume chokes out any breathable air as she leans toward me, pointing to the picture of my face on Mr. D’s desk. “She’s just going to end up getting hurt.”

She won’t look directly at me but has no problem pretending she cares about me.

“You’re trying to get me to quit,” I say. “Because of the way I look?”

I didn’t even want to do this play. But now everyone has seen me, and I’ve seen them, and I want more than my sad impostor bedroom and half a life. I want to get on that stage and see if Ava Before the Fire is still up there.

I have just as much right to that theater as Kenzie does.

I force myself to sit up straight in my chair, my eyes level with hers.

“I’m not quitting.”

Mr. D sighs heavily as he puts Asad’s phone in his desk. I can’t shake the feeling he has effectively closed the drawer on his investigation as well. Kenzie stares daggers at him; the look in her eyes tells me she’s used to getting her way in this office. And Mr. D no doubt is used to getting a big fat donation from Kenzie’s family….

A knock breaks the tense silence. Without waiting for a reply, Tony swings the door open, ducks through the doorway, and strides across the room in one step to slam a clipboard down. He looks as out of place in this small office as he does in the red senior’s shirt he’s wearing instead of his usual black director’s getup. Behind him, Asad wheels in Piper.

“That’s almost half the cast and crew,” Tony says, pointing to the clipboard. He’s out of breath. “Every one of them will vouch for Ava and will walk if you force her out.”