Katherine and Nevaeh tumble off the bunk, wrapping their arms around me, and my face hurts from smiling. I’ve dropped Katherine’s phone, and Taylor’s shouting from the floor, “I’m on my way! Get your asses downstairs and sign me in,” and I tell Nevaeh, “No, you know I never cry,” as she dabs at my cheeks with the hem of her gauzy skirt. They don’t ask why I’ve changed my mind.

We’re a whirlwind, racing down to the lobby to meet Taylor. So fast from an idea to planning. This is the way big things happen; I know it is. You leap because you know you’re going to stick the landing.

We’re doing it.

6

When we come back from dinner, the lobby is busy, voices echoing up to the exposed metal rafters and bouncing off the tall glass that frames either side of the front doors, which are never closed for long. We started arguing about burlesque names while we ate, and we’re still arguing while we wait in line at the front desk, because a clever name is a thing you’re supposed to have. It’s loud, but we’re keeping our voices super low, like we’re spies with strange code names.

“No, I am not going to call myself ‘Paris Boom Boom,’” Katherine whispers. She frowns at Taylor. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

Taylor points to Nevaeh’s phone, and his voice rises. “The internet says it’s a perfectly respectable burlesque name!”

Nevaeh rams him in the side with her elbow. The student in front of us turns, and my heart does a lurch—we’ve been found out!—even though I know that’s ridiculous. I start giggling, and Taylor elbows me in turn, folding his lips in like he’s going to start laughing too.

“Oh, hi, Katherine!” says the girl who turned around, because Katherine knows every single person on campus and they all like her.

“We’re already so bad at this,” Taylor whispers as we shuffle forward in the line.

“Speak for yourself,” says Nevaeh, snickering as Katherine signs Taylor in.

“We’re doomed,” I say.

“By the way, I will quit if you don’t call yourself Candie Kisses,” Taylor says to Nevaeh, signing his name next to Katherine’s with a flourish.

“Oh, ugh,” Nevaeh says, her voice suddenly loud. She’s looking over my shoulder, and I turn.

Gavin. Who has seen us, smiles, and waves. He is cute. I hate it.

“Aw, shit,” I say.

Katherine grimaces. The expression always seems hilariously wrong on her face.

“Go, go, go,” I say, hustling us over to the elevator, which is already almost full. We manage to cram ourselves in.

“Emergency!” Taylor says when people complain. Nevaeh stabs the CLOSE DOORS button one, two, three times, but of course Gavin is quick enough to stick his hand between the closing doors, making everyone around us groan again.