“Work smarter,” Faith said. “Not harder.”

The group finished the packet with twenty minutes to spare. Ms. Christie was busy trying not to chide Georgia for reading, and the others were quietly chatting. Devon read over Peter’s schedule.

“He’ll be at several orchestra rehearsals, you know,” Devon said. “He’s always the announcer at concerts and plays. The house has him record everything the week before dress rehearsals so that he doesn’t have to be there every night.”

“I’ve never gone to a concert,” Gem said.

“No,” Devon said, “you haven’t.”

“Shut up,” Gem said. “Lia doesn’t go either.”

“She went to the first few.” Devon looked over Gem’s work on question eighteen and set the packet aside. “You sat in the back, and then you walked out during one of my solos and stopped coming altogether.”

Lia looked up. She’d gone to the concerts hoping something might happen with Devon. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were nothing at all. That was the danger with Devon Diaz—she was never quite sure when he was being sincere or sarcastic. “Are you the only one allowed to notice people?”

“No,” she said, “but you’ve never mentioned that.”

“You’ve never really talked to me,” Devon said, smiling. “Anyway, it was the height of rudeness, and I’ve hated you ever since. It’s why I joined Assassins in the first place.”

Faith rolled her eyes and powered on her phone, hiding the light of the iPhone under her desk. “Again. Shocked you’re playing.”

“School’s almost over. What do I have to live for now if not revenge?” He shrugged. “Not as weird as you starting CrossFit.”

“God, you’re so much more sarcastic than I thought,” Gem said. “I can’t believe you wasted four years not talking to anyone but band kids.”

“Band and orchestra aren’t the same thing,” he clarified. “Also, that’s rich coming from a theater kid.”

“Why are you in theater?” Faith asked, turning to give Gem a once-over. “You’re top of the class, diverse, perfect for law school. Theater’s like the one weird spot on your college apps.”

Gem shrugged. “I like theater. I like getting to lord my power over the props table. I like messing around with the squibs,” Gem said. “They don’t usually call me ‘diverse’ either, so that’s a plus.”

Faith flushed. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I—”

“We know,” Lia said.

Devon cut in. “Can I borrow your pen, Gem?”

“Oh, sure,” Gem said, and reached into their bag. “Here.”

Gem held out the pen in a flat palm and pushed it up their sleeve to their elbow. Devon reached for the pen, slowly, and Gem lifted their pinkie and brought it down. The pen flipped out of their hand and under it. Gem turned their hand over. No pen.

Devon laughed.

“When did you learn magic?” Faith asked.

Gem had started practicing sleight of hand after a particularly intense middle school version of Robin Hood, and mostly did stage work now—props, sets, and front-of-house manager. Last semester’s rendition of Wait Until Dark had left Gem exhausted and up to their elbows in fake blood and prop knives.