This, she had gathered, had not been the case at the High School of Performing Arts. Every time Scarlett saw Spencer’s classmates, they were all over each other, getting together and breaking up as loudly and dramatically as possible. Spencer had wooed and been wooed so many times that Scarlett stopped trying to learn their names.

The point was…this should have been an easy topic, but it wasn’t. Not that there was any point in asking. She was aiming too high.

Still…

Even thinking about him made her itch.

She Googled Eric’s name and, within a minute, she found his commercial. She watched it once, then again, and again. It crossed her mind that she might be going crazy, or that this might be cyber-stalking, but these thoughts didn’t trouble her too much.

By the time she had finished her thirtieth viewing, Scarlett couldn’t sit still any longer. The YouTube Eric was not enough. Nothing prevented her from leaving Spencer a message and meeting up with him when he was done. And where Spencer was, Eric was likely to be close by.

To her surprise, Spencer picked up immediately.

“Are you a mind reader?” he asked.

“Maybe…” she said mysteriously. “Let me guess what you’re thinking about now. Does it involve leather pants and bologna sandwiches?”

“You’re good,” he said. “I have to give you that. Either that, or you’ve been reading my That’s So Raven fanfiction again. How are you with using your psychic powers to solve problems?”

“Incredibly expert,” she said. “Hit me.”

“I’ll meet you in the park in an hour,” he said. “Bring your spirit guide.”

A MINOR PROBLEM

When she arrived, Spencer was sitting on the Alice in Wonderland statue. Two unicycles sat by his feet.

“You’re wondering why I’m not at rehearsal,” Spencer said.

“Actually, I was wondering about the unicycles,” she said. “But why aren’t you at rehearsal?”

“The unicycles are for the show. Ask me about the show.”

“What about the show?”

“A truckload of officials showed up in the middle of Ophelia’s death scene and slapped us with a vacate order,” he said.

“What’s a vacate order?”

“As in, get out this very second, this building is full of disgusting, infectious, black death mold,” Spencer said, coughing a little. “They came in wearing masks and moved us out, then they put yellow tape and a big sign over the door. Like a crime scene, but less fun.”

“But where are you going to rehearse?”

“Ah.” Spencer held up a finger. “You’ve hit on a very exciting point. That was the only place the company could afford. They got a special deal from the building’s owner—probably because he knew the place was about to be condemned. The company director is making some calls. But unless he finds something cheaper, immediately…and he’s not going to find anything cheaper. So I’m going to let you figure out what that means.”

“No show,” Scarlett said hoarsely.

“No show,” Spencer repeated. “No. Show. Me, off to cooking school. End of any plans to act. Unless we come up with a really good idea in the next few hours. In the meantime, I can enjoy my shiny unicycle before it has to go back to the rental place.”