“How’s it going?” they say.

“Is this a performance?” Katherine asks.

“Life is a performance,” another masked person intones. The elevator dings, and the theater kids file off at the third floor.

“I didn’t think for a second he wanted to get back with me!” I blurt. Taylor snorts. “Oh, be quiet! Okay, yes, for a split second. I’m terrible.”

“You’re not terrible,” Katherine says, petting my arm. “Just maybe—”

“I know,” I say. “I have thought all those things too. But—he did say he wants to talk.”

“But obviously you’re not going to, right?” Nevaeh asks. She stares at me. At the fourth-floor ding, I leap out of the elevator.

“Addie!” she says, calling after me. I am already halfway down the hall, where the overhead light is flickering.

“I don’t know what he wanted to talk about!” I call back. I wait for them to catch up to me.

“Nothing good!” Nevaeh says.

“Just good-looking,” Taylor says.

“Taylor,” Katherine says.

“I mean like a well-baited trap,” he explains.

“That is actually a very good metaphor,” Katherine says.

“I’m good at so many things.” Taylor sighs.

“I cannot with you two,” Nevaeh says.

Of course the common room isn’t empty. There are kids sprawled on the big brown couches near the window, and Zoe’s curly blond head pops up from one when we bump through the doors.

“Addie!” she cries, climbing over the back of the sofa and leaping toward me as if she will fly into my arms. “I nailed the grande échappé in—” She stops short, and her eyes get even more huge—big, bright blueberries under the heavy mass of bangs. “Hi, Nevaeh,” she says, and flushes a little bit the way she always does, her face mottled pale and strawberry.

“Hi, Zoe,” Nevaeh says, and Zoe gets even redder. Katherine shakes her head and drops her bag on the big, soft chair next to the watercooler.

“Can you kids clear out of here for a while?” I ask. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not!” Zoe chirps. “I’ll see you tomorrow after dinner?” I blink at her. She says, “We’re supposed to go over the fairy variations?”

I hesitate. I had forgotten. That is not like me. “I might be a little late,” I say. “But definitely. Make sure you warm up well, okay?”

A tight hug around my waist, and Zoe and her friends are gone. I was nervous when I was asked to be a senior mentor to a group of freshmen. Being a role model and adviser felt like a big, scary responsibility. But it’s turned out to be one of my favorite things ever.

“Nevvie and Zoe, sitting in a tree,” Taylor is singing, and Nevaeh is whacking him on the head with a pillow in time with the beat.

“Quit it, quit it, quit it!” she sings.

“Straight-girl fever, meant to be,” Taylor sings. They’re both laughing.