I sing the whole thing with my eyes closed so I can hear the way the sound surrounds me. When I strum, the moon swings and I really do feel like I’m flying. I imagine looking out over a packed house. I imagine what the applause would feel like in my chest.

After I’ve finished, Ethan stands and claps for me. He shouts, “Woo-Whoo!” and his voice fills the room.

“You have the cutest little waist,” Ethan says, unbuckling the straps once I’m safely on the ground. He shouted encore until I had no songs left. “What’s your secret?”

“Corn nuts and Diet Coke?” I say, not sure if I’m supposed to have a secret. My body is the way it is, and I haven’t thought about it much one way or another. I feel exposed in a way I don’t when I play shows to more than one person. There’s no reason to run away and I kind of want to anyway. Flee to the wings, wrap myself in those thick velvet curtains, and hide from the world.

“Corn nuts and Diet Coke!” Ethan says, laughing. “You must have good genes. There are girls here who would kill to have your figure.” He unbuckles the last strap. “I mean that literally.”

“I’d kill to go here,” I say, handing him my guitar so I can jump down. I’m surprised by the fact that it’s true. School was crappy math quizzes and notes scribbled on folded loose-leaf, passed to every girl except me. But this kind of school, where kids get up on stage and sing and it counts, where maybe I wouldn’t be so different—if I had known college could be like this, I might have finished high school to get here. Of course, it’s not like my dad saved money for me to go to college, or there are Rotary scholarships to send that weird kid from the motorless motorhome to drama school.

“You are amazing, Angel,” Ethan says, handing my guitar back to me.

“April,” I say, feeling awkward that he doesn’t remember my name.

“I know.” Ethan smiles. “It was a term of endearment.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then it’s a testament to how endearing you are.” Ethan studies my face. I feel like he knows a lot about me, even though I’ve hardly told him anything.

The university is on spring break, so Ethan doesn’t have class. He buys us corned beef sandwiches from a deli and we take them back to his house. I eat all of mine and half of his and he seems strangely satisfied by watching me eat.