But I had the feeling someone was watching me. I looked toward the front corner of the room, by the windows, where a pair of blue eyes surrounded by messy curls blinked back at me. Ethan. The sadistic dentist from auditions. He passed a balled-up piece of paper to the person next to him, and I watched as it zigzagged its way back to me.

I tensed as my hand grasped the paper, waiting to hear if Paul or Jake would comment, but they were absorbed in some conversation about a girl on the soccer team. I unfolded the note.

It was my moral duty to tell you not to sit near the Neanderthal twins on the first day of school. I failed. Please accept this crumpled piece of paper as my apology. Also please don’t give me the finger. That would be rude. And confusing. And kind of hilarious.

I looked up at Ethan, who was considering me with a curious expression. Embarrassment crept up my spine as I imagined Jude telling him about how I gave him the finger for no reason.

Don’t worry about it, and no guarantees, I scribbled, and sent the note on its way. When Ethan read it, his mouth quirked up. Then he gave me a small, respectful nod.

I nodded back, and actually felt myself smile.

Wow. Having an interaction in English that didn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out with a pen was new and different. It was kind of sad to admit how much better it made me feel.

My phone lit up with a text from Margot, and since Ms. Belson wasn’t in the room yet, I opened it.

“Who ya texting?” Paul leaned over my shoulder.

“My friend Personal Space,” I said, shifting forward and lowering my phone into my lap.

“It’s a cold one today,” Jake whispered. “Get out the blankets.”

Margot had sent two photos. The first was of her name under callbacks for Lina Lamont. I knew it! The second was of my name under callbacks for something called the Vamp.

A moment later another text arrived from Margot: Dude, congrats! Check out Cyd Charisse, the original Vamp! Underneath was a link to a YouTube video. The thumbnail showed a glamorous woman in bright green, her dark hair in a sleek bob, her long leg extended above her head.

My brain was beyond scattered—I hadn’t been sure I’d actually get into the musical, or if I even wanted to after the disaster at auditions. And now I had a callback?

I didn’t have to go. I could head home and nap. I kept telling myself that as I stared at Cyd Charisse’s extension, the curve of her high-arched foot.