“In a minute!” Mr. Campbell snapped. She rolled her eyes before disappearing and letting the door swing closed. He turned to me, his smile looking very fixed, and I had the distinct feeling that I was suddenly on thin ice. “Kat,” he said, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms again. “Did you have any thoughts about the play—about my work—that you want to share?” He looked at me expectantly.

I nodded, trying to prepare myself to do this, to tell him what he wanted to hear. But all at once, the line from King Lear—the one that I’d loved right from the very first read—flashed into my head. I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. Cordelia couldn’t fawn on cue. And neither, it seemed, when it came down to it, could I.

“I just…,” I started. I didn’t want to be cruel—there was no need to be. But I also wasn’t going to lie. And suddenly, in that moment, I was very aware that I shouldn’t be asked to. “Maybe it just wasn’t for me,” I finally said, and Mr. Campbell flushed red, all the way up to his hairline. “Since it’s really about adult themes,” I continued, trying to stick to the facts as much as possible. “I’m probably not the audience for it.”

Mr. Campbell just looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. “No, you’re probably not,” he said, his voice colder than he’d ever used with me. “There’s a reason I don’t tell you kids about this.”

“Right,” I said, giving him a quick smile and preparing to go. “So I should—”

“I mean,” he said, with a short laugh, “why am I even asking your opinion anyway? Like you know anything about theater? You’re a child. And I’m sorry if it wasn’t up to your lofty standards, Katrina. But I should have known better than to ask.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “I…,” I said, and was horrified to hear that my voice was wobbling. “I didn’t—”

“Brett!” The actress was back, looking more aggrieved than ever. “Bob needs to go—”

“I’ll be there in a minute! For fuck’s sake!” he yelled. There was silence in the lobby that seemed to expand and reverberate, and I had no idea where I was supposed to be looking.

The actress shook her head and disappeared again, and I stood up. It was not that I’d never heard a teacher swear—we’d studied Mamet, after all—but this was different. This was making me feel like I was seeing a side of this person that I was never supposed to.

“I should go,” I whispered, hating that my voice was breaking. Hating that I’d come here at all.