Twenty minutes later—I knew because there was a crooked wall clock in the lobby—Mr. Campbell came out of the theater, his scarf trailing behind him. He smiled when he saw me, then grabbed the folding chair next to me, turning it around to sit backward in it. “The work of a director is never done,” he said with a chuckle, and I laughed—not because it was funny but because, I realized, I was supposed to.

“I actually can’t stay too long,” I said, starting to edge off my seat. “This was just—so fun, but it’s getting late, and I have to get a train—”

“But I haven’t even heard what you thought of the play! I’d love to get your review.” He gave me a smile and folded his arms, nodding for me to commence.

I took a deep breath—I knew exactly what I was supposed to do here. Like it was a character I was playing, I knew what was expected. For me to be gushing and over-the-top; complimentary and awed. Wide-eyed and dazzled.

It was like I could practically see the script flashing in front of me, and there was only one option as to how to play this. It was the same thing, I realized, when he was directing us. You could state an opinion, maybe argue a point or two, but in the end, you were going to play the role how he wanted you to play it. And if you fought against it, you didn’t get cast next time. Everyone knew it without anyone having to spell it out.

But tonight, this was a gear that I couldn’t quite find. The play had been so bad, and seeing it had made me miss getting to Stevie. And in light of those things, I couldn’t be the Kat who would have lied through her teeth and gushed over it. She suddenly felt like a whole other person. But the longer I wrestled with this, the longer my silence stretched on, which I knew was only making things worse. “It, um,” I said, trying desperately to think of something that wouldn’t involve me either telling the truth or lying, which was—not surprisingly—a difficult needle to thread. “It reminded me of that really old movie? The Big Chill? Have you seen it?”

“I’ve seen The Big Chill,” he said, starting to sound annoyed. “And I’m not sure I’d call it really old, but…” He stopped and shook his head.

The theater door opened and one of the actresses stuck her head out. “Are we cut?” she asked. “Bob needs to get his ferry.”