She would have stood up to this guy. She would have created a scene, spun a story, told whatever lie she needed to. It might not have worked, but she would have gone in swinging. It wasn’t like I was going to argue with the Raptor. Even the thought of it made me feel panicky, the way confrontations always did—palms sweating, heart racing, like everything in my body was screaming at me to get out, that this was dangerous. And especially tonight, after I’d fought with my best friend and cried in front of a pickpocket, it was like I’d used up my quota of confrontations, maybe for the year. The only time I’d ever been able to really fight with anyone was in a play.

So pretend it’s a play, I could practically hear Kat whispering to me.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself. I had, after all, run around the stage in what was essentially my underwear (Noises Off), sung an incredibly difficult score (City of Angels), and had to convincingly utter the lines, “Torvald, we may be a wee bit more reckless now, mayn’t we? Just a tiny wee bit!” (A Doll’s House) before hundreds of people. This was just in front of four college students and a Pomeranian. I could do this.

“Excuse me?” I asked. I stood up, taking Brad with me. This character was getting sketched out in real time, but it seemed like her voice was a little lower than mine, and her posture much better. I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “What did you just say?”

Mateo gaped at me, and I wished there was some way I could silently let him know what I was doing, but I knew from experience that if I broke character, it would be that much harder to get it back—like looking down for a second on a balance beam.

“The dog,” the Raptor said. “Having it in a residence hall is a clear violation. Who are you, by the way? Did you sign in?”

“That’s my stepsister,” Mateo said quickly. “I’m sure she did.”

“I didn’t,” I said as I strode a few steps closer to the Raptor, still holding Brad up by my chest. If he had any idea that he’d found himself in the middle of a drama, he gave no indication, just tried to lick my face. “There was no one behind the desk—apparently they’d gone out for dinner. Is that the kind of operation you’re running?”

“Whoa,” Alyssa murmured to Archie.

“I know,” he murmured back. “Can we keep her?”

“I’m not running any operation,” the Raptor sputtered. “But you can’t have a dog in here, and this is well beyond three strikes for this particular suite—”