in Canada,” I said, glancing at Stevie again and trying to keep my face from betraying anything.
“Your… boyfriend who lives in Canada!” Stevie said, smiling at Teri and then shooting me a fleeting look that was gone in the blink of an eye. But I knew exactly what she’d been saying with it—that this was getting ridiculous. Teri had seen Avenue Q too—how did she not hear this?
“Yeah,” Teri said, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Dustin Alberta.”
I bit the inside of my lip hard enough that tears came to my eyes. “Hrm,” I said, nodding a few too many times. “That’s great, Teri.”
“I’m really happy if you’re happy,” Stevie said, and I could tell that she meant it.
Teri beamed at us both. “Thanks, guys.” She reached forward for the candy again. “So how was your night? How was Josephine’s? Did you see any celebrities?”
Stevie and I looked at each other, and I started laughing. “Well,” I began as Stevie shook her head.
“I want to tell it! Oh my god, Teri, so it started at Grand Central—”
I frowned. “Grand Central? Why are you starting it there?”
“With Mallory.”
“I mean, you could start it there, but I wouldn’t.”
“See, this is why I wanted to tell it.”
“No! I am. So—”
Teri’s phone beeped with a text, and I heard mine beep as well—though technically it was now Stevie’s phone—from back in the guest bedroom. Teri grabbed her phone from where it was resting on the couch next to her. As she looked at it, her whole expression changed. “Guys,” she said, her eyes still on her phone.
“What?” Stevie asked. “What is it?”
Teri lowered her phone and swallowed hard. “The list is up.”
* * *
Stevie and I drove in silence to the school. Most of the snow had melted overnight—there were just patches of it here and there. Teri had taken her own car, and we’d lost sight of her almost immediately, due to Stevie’s geriatric driving style. For once, though, I didn’t mind it. I was tempted, as Stevie passed by the entrance ramps for I-95, to tell her to just turn onto the highway. We’d drive north, pass New Haven, and finally try Mystic Pizza. Or south, back into the city. We could pick up bagels on the way, go to Columbia and find Matty and his friends. Or see if Cary was working a shift at Maverick. We could go to Dumbo and get Brad from Margaux, take him on a walk down by the water. We could stay in the not-knowingness a little bit longer.
“Eric didn’t say anything,” Stevie said again, even though we’d been saying variations of this to each other ever since the texts on the group thread had come through. He was the one who’d spotted the list when he’d been on a bike ride this morning. But he hadn’t included a picture of it, or any takes on the casting, just the information that it was up. No exclamation points, no emojis. And then the thread had gone quiet as everyone had jumped into their cars and sped over to the theater.
“What do you think that means?” I asked. A day ago, this would have been all-consuming. I would have been desperately trying to get any information that I could, and would have been playing out all kinds of scenarios, and trying to get Stevie to drive faster, to get there sooner. I would have been convinced that this casting, this part, this theater department, was the only thing that mattered—it was all everything had been leading up to. And now?
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“I guess we’ll find out,” she said, her voice quiet. Maybe she was also trying to grapple with the fact that on the surface, nothing had changed since yesterday. But absolutely everything felt different.
The school was deserted—not that surprising, since it was nine o’clock on a Saturday. Stevie parked in the senior parking lot, and we headed over together to the theater building. I could see the group crowded around the door, everyone looking at one piece of paper.
The list was up.
As we got closer, Stevie reached down and grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze. I smiled without looking at her and squeezed her hand back.
The crowd around the list was most of the senior thespians. I was sure that word would soon trickle out to everyone else, but for right now, it was just us. Somehow, a list had gotten printed out and taped to the door, so either Mr. Campbell