“I’m so sorry,” I say. “It’s really none of my business, seriously.” What is wrong with me? You don’t just ask people things like that. Private, personal things. Especially not when they’re on a reality TV show. Like he’s going to want to talk about it in front of the whole nation.

“Nah,” he says. “It’s not a big deal. That you asked, I mean. Most people are afraid to talk about it or something.” He smiles, and my eyes start to get a little wet. I concentrate on the surface of the table so that Drew doesn’t notice, blinking fast in an effort to keep my eyes from spilling over.

“Anyway,” Drew says. “He taught me a lot. And now I can teach you.” He smiles. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Come on.”

I follow him obediently to the back of the room and down the hall to where the blackroom is located. I look at the door fearfully.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Drew asks.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. I do, but I’m not sure if it’s the best idea. I mean, do I really want to have Drew with me every single time I need to load film onto a reel? I should be able to do it myself at some point. On the other hand, I don’t want to wreck this roll of film, because I don’t have time to take the pictures over again, and I’ll end up failing the assignment.

“It’s up to you,” Drew says easily. “I think you can do it on your own, but if it will make you feel better, I’m happy to go in there with you.”

“You’d better come in,” I say. “Just so that I don’t end up wrecking everything. But I have to warn you, I might faint. Oh, and you might have to physically restrain me from opening the door after I become convinced that I’m blind, or that there’s some sort of crazed loon in there, just waiting to gouge our eyeballs out with a knife. Or a nail clipper.”

Drew turns his baseball hat around so that it’s on backward and laughs. “Ally, you’re a riot,” he says, and I flush. He makes it sound like it’s the ultimate compliment. I wonder if that’s how Corey describes me to his new friends at college. “My girlfriend’s a riot.” Somehow I doubt it.

Drew holds the door to the blackroom open and peers inside. “Nobody in there,” he says. “Empty.”

“Check behind the door,” I say, only half joking. He obliges.

“All clear.”

I follow him into the room, the reel in the one hand, the roll of film in the other.