“I’m sorry this hasn’t been very fruitful for you,” he says. “I had hoped we’d find something sooner.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” I joke.

“I volunteered to do this,” he says.

“Oh,” I say. “Right.”

“I haven’t minded it at all,” he says seriously, and I have to laugh at that.

“I’ve only minded it a little,” I say. “I mean, it’s been okay.”

“Thank you,” he says, as if I haven’t just stumbled over trying to say something nice.

“I am even almost having a good time,” I try joking.

“Good,” he says. I kind of want him to say he’s having a good time, too, but he doesn’t.

“Katherine said it would be great,” I say.

He looks up from fumbling with his messenger bag. “Katherine’s great.” His face is a full-blown smile, and his cheeks are windblown too. “She rescued me from failing trig,” he says. “And from hating junior year.”

“She does that,” I say.

“We’ve had a lot of good conversations,” he adds. “She’s good to talk to. And open.”

Something in me relaxes at that, and I look at him again. I appreciate his serious eyebrows and his crooked nose. His face is okay, I decide. I want to ask him what they talked about, but he pulls out his list of the places we’ve seen already instead. He is very serious and organized, and his jaw is a little bit stubbly. He also pulls out a well-folded map of campus, neatly marked up with tiny notes and careful Xs in a variety of colors on most of the buildings.

“This is great,” I say. He looks satisfied.

“It’s top secret, so you have to burn it when we’re done,” he says.

I agree solemnly, lean over, and notice that there aren’t any Xs on the performing-arts theater, a long, narrow rectangle on the map, a low, two-story rectangle building in real life. I tap on it.

“I assumed you had ruled it out, if you were looking elsewhere for a space,” he says. “I should have confirmed that with you.”

“I should have thought of it first! It should have been the first place on my mind!” Not the auditorium, obviously. But it’s a fair-size building. Maybe the green room, dressing rooms, rehearsal room, shops, or trap room. The storage rooms on the main floor. The storage rooms on the basement floor! Outside, the ground slopes down behind the building, so there’s an entrance back there, a short driveway down, and a small loading dock for deliveries. Sometimes musicians sneak out from upstairs to smoke back there, taking the few short steps across the driveway and into the trees.

“Do we have time to go look?” I bounce, excited about the idea.