“Burlesque?” she repeats. She looks confused. “What do I think about it?” She waves an elegant hand, lost for words. “I don’t know, I guess I just think it’s creative stripping? Why are you asking me about burlesque?”

“It’s an art form,” I start to argue.

“Art? It’s entertainment,” she says. “Sexy entertainment.”

“It’s more than that!” I say, heatedly. “It’s about finding total confidence in your body, and—” I stop, because she looks skeptical and a little confused.

“And?” she prompts.

I shake my head. “Sorry,” I say. “It’s just—something I was thinking about.”

“Anyway, you’ve already got confidence on lockdown,” she says, toasting me with her mug.

That startles me. Do I? Is that what it looks like to her? Because compared with the feeling I had last night, it feels like I’ve just been pretending. Being onstage felt like a miracle. I want to always feel like I did onstage last night, totally seen and totally accepted and beautiful. I want to always feel that beautiful all the time—beautiful in who I am, I mean. But I’m realizing Carly isn’t going to hear me if I say that.

She gestures with the teapot, and I hold my cup out. “So, seriously, why did you bring up burlesque? That smile you walked in with was something.”

Last night and velvet curtains and twinkle lights and applause and hugging Katherine and Nevaeh, and Katherine and Nevaeh kissing and …

“Oh, nothing really,” I say. “We went to a show in Chicago. And it was great. But also … there’s a boy.” I’m disappointed in her reaction about burlesque, but my smile is real.

Her eyes light up. “Tell me everything,” she says.

“Well,” I say. “I spent a lot of time being annoyed by him, but it turns out”—and I am kind of amazed by this, now that I’ve realized it—“he might have been trying to impress me.”

“Good on him,” she says. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize sooner.”

How could I have?

She urges me to tell her more, and there’s a lot to skirt around, but she seems delighted with everything I tell her and teases me about how pink my cheeks are.

“Bring him to meet me! In a very casual way,” she’s quick to add. “But stay focused, okay?”

I nod. “Of course. Obviously. I am laser focused.”

“You just have so much going on.” She’s shaking her head.

I point to myself. “Laser focused.”

“Now go! Shoo!” she says. “I have to dig out from under my email, and you have entirely too much to do to be sitting here with me.”

I’m halfway out the door when she calls out.

“I almost forgot!” she says. “Angles funding!”

I turn, holding the doorframe. “Right! What about it?”