Zach slips in late again, halfway through her roll call, and my heart leaps at the sight of him. He looks surprised that class hasn’t started yet, since when he got here last time Ms. Kowalski was already teaching. He’s wearing headphones around his neck, and I make a mental note to find him after class and casually ask him what he’s listening to.

“Hi there!” As Kowalski greets him, the glasses she has perched on her head slide down her forehead and land on her nose. “Oh, my glasses! I’ve been searching for them for hours.” She chuckles to herself and then turns back to Zach. “Sorry. I don’t think I got your name last class?”

Zach looks super annoyed that she isn’t just ignoring him like last time he came in late. I try to catch his eye to commiserate, because I agree—this is drama class, who cares if you attend at all?—but he holds his gaze steady on the front of the room.

He mumbles something under his breath.

“Please speak up! Drama is all about learning to project your voice!” Kowalski booms. She has no issues with projection.

“Zach.” He’s still mumbling, but this time he puts a little more energy behind his voice. He still hasn’t acknowledged me. Probably mortified to be put on the spot.

“Zach.” She scans the class roster. “Ah. Gotcha! First time in a couple years that you’re the only Zach in my class!” She smiles. “Zach Teller, I presume?”

My heart stops beating as he opens his mouth to answer. It opens and closes with no sound.

Teller.

Now he looks over at me.

And I can’t look away.

His last name is Teller.

There’s no way this is a coincidence. All the lightness that crawled into my being when he entered the room leaks out, replaced by nothing.

Chapter Ten

This goddamn teacher just won’t leave me alone. I can’t bring myself to look over at May. I got here late to try to avoid this—the roll call, the reading of last names. I would have skipped class entirely, but what was I going to do? Skip for the rest of the year? Fail out? All in order to keep May from learning my last name? Conor keeps insisting that my name does not make me, no matter what everyone else seems to think. That’s easy for him to say. He’s not the one living with it.

“Zach Teller, I presume?” At the front of the room, Ms. Kowalski’s waiting for me to answer.

I nod. The air around me feels heavy, like molasses. I can barely get my head back up. “Yes. Zach.” I swallow. “Teller.”

And then I force myself to meet May’s eyes.

The fury in them makes me want to die. Something inside me recognizes how inevitable this moment was.