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“So there’s no one?” Brittany presses again, because she obviously can’t help herself. I don’t blame her; I would feel the same way in her place.

I open my mouth. I should say no. It’s simple. One short word. Two letters. It would be the right thing to do. The responsible thing. Because I should focus on Olivia, only her. Because there’s a chance that Brittany and Clark will reconsider everything if I tell them about Lia and how complicated everything is.

But Lia isn’t nobody. She’s somebody. More than somebody.

I take a deep breath. “Yes. There is someone.”

Chapter 50

Ophelia

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I walk over to the theater with Katie, Susannah, and the others from the dorm for our first stage rehearsal.

I feel sick when I take out my phone and see that it’s Mom trying to reach me. It’s not the first time she’s called me since her birthday three days ago. I haven’t answered a single call. I can’t talk to her, not like this. Not on the phone.

A very large, very childish part of me wants her to come here, to apologize to me and fight for me. But the smaller, more adult part of me knows that’s not going to happen. That’s not who she is. At least not with me. She’s not going to come here. Otherwise, she would have done it by now.

I reject the call and put my phone back in my pocket, trying to concentrate on what Katie and Charlie are saying. But I find it hard to listen to them talking about rehearsals and the performance. Susannah doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. She’s pale and restless. Not just now—she’s been acting strange all day.

“Are you okay?” I ask so quietly that the others can’t hear me. At first, I don’t think she hears me either, but then she turns to look at me.

Her gaze is hard and impenetrable, and she briefly presses her lips together. “I’m fine,” she replies coolly, but I can see that she’s anything but fine.

“Are you nervous?” I don’t know why I’m asking; she clearly doesn’t want to talk to me.

She rolls her eyes. “No, I’m not. Why should I be?”

“I mean, it would be normal if you were.” I give her a hesitant smile. “After all, it’s the first stage rehearsal.”

“Lia, what are you trying to do?” Susannah stops in the middle of campus and gives me a dirty look.

“Nothing. I just wanted to—”

“Save it,” she says, interrupting me venomously. She starts walking again, stomping past Katie and Charlie, who have also stopped and are now looking at us in confusion.

“What was that about?” Katie asks, her forehead creased with concern.

“No idea.” I sigh. “Really, I have no clue.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” Charlie asks. He sounds surprised, and I probably would be too if I were him, because we don’t do that kind of thing.

I just shrug. No, we haven’t, and I guess that’s part of the problem. Maybe it would do us good to have a fight, let it all out, and then maybe start over.

“Let’s go before we’re late,” I finally say.

For a second, it seems like Katie wants to say something else, but then she just nods, and we follow Susannah, who has long since disappeared into the theater. The foyer is buzzing with activity. Most people are already wearing their practice outfits, and some have already started warming up.

Francesca and Mr. Conrad are standing on stage and talking while looking around, probably discussing the performance. I spot Phoenix a second later as he joins them. His gaze flickers toward me as if he senses my presence, and my heart skips a beat. His eyes light up, and he smiles at me. Something about him is different. He’s almost vibrating with excitement, and then his lips silently form one little word.

Later.

Longing rises inside me, and I can’t do anything about it. My body has simply turned against me.

Later.

What does that mean? Does he want to talk? See me? Rehearse? I want to go over and ask him, but before I can take a single step in his direction, Francesca turns to him, and our eye contact breaks. I find it difficult to turn away and follow the others backstage. What the hell does he mean by later?

Then I realize Susannah has disappeared, and I get a queasy feeling in my stomach. She’s nowhere to be seen, and suddenly I have the urge to go to the restroom to see if she’s throwing up again. But I can’t bring myself to do it, because as long as I don’t see anything, I can still pretend that what I saw was a one-off. I can pretend she’s fine. So I stay backstage, stretching my calves and trying to ignore the voice telling me to go look for her.