Must. Stop. Negative. Self. Talk. Katie Holmes would totally suck it up and just knock on the door. Which is actually easier than talking, when you think about it. You just pick up your hand and knock on the door. Besides, I’ve been standing here for two whole minutes, Frank is filming, and America probably thinks I’m stupid. For just standing here, I mean. Well, besides other things. So now it’s sort of like I have to knock. Because, you know, if I don’t, I’ll look even stupider.

I raise my hand, ready to knock. On the count of three. One . . . two . . . two and a half . . . Suddenly there’s a sound from inside the room. Shit. It has to be Drew, since I saw James leave for class about ten minutes ago. Fuck. The doorknob starts to turn, and I try to run. But Frank isn’t as quick, and when Drew opens the door, Frank’s standing in the hallway, and I’m standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

Drew looks at me. I look at Drew.

“Hey,” he says.

“Uh, hi,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, like I’m always hanging out in bathroom doorways. His backpack is slung over his shoulder, and he’s wearing a gray sweater and baggy jeans. I want to kiss him.

He turns toward his bedroom door, pulls his keys out of his pocket, and locks it. Fuck. He’s locking his bedroom door because he thinks I’m a stalker! He thinks I want to, like, go in there and look in his underwear drawer or something. This is awful. Why didn’t I just knock on the door when I had the chance? This is so much worse than that.

“Gotta lock it,” Drew says, holding up the key. He shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “Some psycho cut up one of James’s shirts, so we’re not taking any chances.”

Oh, thank God. It’s Simone’s psychosis that is causing the locking of the door, not mine. “Good idea,” I say, still standing in the bathroom doorway.

“Well, see ya,” he says.

“Bye!” I say brilliantly. He disappears down the hall. Yup. Right on track.

Two hours later, I’m in photography and still analyzing the Drew encounter to death. If he hated me, he would have just ignored me, right? And, like, not said anything. Or given me a dirty look or something. He definitely wouldn’t have explained why he was locking the door. I mean, if he hadn’t explained, I would have thought it was because of me, and he obviously didn’t want me to think that. Or he wouldn’t have told me. Which means he doesn’t hate me. Because if he hated me, he wouldn’t care what I think. Right? Unless he just doesn’t care either way. Like, maybe he doesn’t care that we’re fighting. Maybe he’s just like, whatever, Ally can do what she wants.