All our personal screens turn red as the tests are officially submitted. The screens go green to show the process is complete. Our personal data has once again been unlocked.

Chairs scrape against the tile. Everyone shoves their tablets into bags and bolts for the door, grateful to be done for the day. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and wait for Rose, who is asking Mr. Greene about one of the questions. She isn’t smiling when she turns.

“Is everything okay?” I ask when we reach the hallway.

Rose shrugs. “I changed one of my answers and I shouldn’t have. After I hit Complete I knew I had made a mistake. I have a feeling I didn’t get full points on a few others. I hope that my score doesn’t bring down my semester grade, or my father will use it as an excuse to make me take summer classes instead of working at Gloss. How did you do?”

“It could have been worse,” I say, downplaying my performance so Rose doesn’t feel bad. “I’m glad it’s over. Now we just have to get through tomorrow and we’ll be free for the summer. Or I will. You’ll be busy working with glamorous people and playing with samples of new makeup.”

Rose punches the combination into her locker. “Just because I’ll be doing some work for my mother’s company doesn’t mean I won’t be around. I will. And you’ll probably have less free time than I will if you make it into the City Art Program—unless you want to come work at Gloss. Mom says the offer is still on the table.” She opens the door, grabs her phone from the charging station, and frowns at the screen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Isaac. He’s going out with friends and isn’t going to give me a ride home even though he promised Dad he would. He’s still upset about yesterday—Dad reamed him for being late and threatened to take away his car.”

“That was my fault,” I correct. “If he is mad at anyone it should be me.”

“He’ll get over it.” She gives a dramatic sigh and slams the door to her locker. “I mean, he just had to get an ID and a uniform. No big deal. Well,” Rose says with a bright smile. “I guess the good news is that Isaac won’t be around to annoy anyone, so we can go to my house and study.”

“Um . . .” I had planned to return to Mom’s paintings. “The only real final I have left is English Composition.” My art and phys ed finals weren’t exactly the kind you could study for.

“I have Composition tomorrow, too, and I really need you to read over my history paper. The information is all there, but I know there are places it could be better. I’d ask Mom, but she has to work late tonight, and I’m not about to ask my father.” Before I can come up with a good excuse to turn her down, she adds, “Please? It’s our last time studying together as underclassmen.”