Eve sat up in the lighting booth with Winston.
Below them, she saw a couple dozen masked girls in the audience. Her mask was pushed up on her hair.
“So tonight’s the night,” she said.
“Mm-hmm.” Winston focused on dimming the lights as the audience applauded and a bunch of kids dressed in black came onstage to move set pieces around.
Nessa and Brody entered the stage for the scene that led into their big duet, “Till There Was You.”
Eve leaned in to Winston to whisper, “My favorite part.”
He smiled at her, and even in the dark of the booth, she could see his skin turn crimson. “I think I’ve seen it about five times too many,” he said with a chuckle.
Abe thought Winston was “a good guy,” he’d said. And it was true. He’d never be the kind of boy to text her stuff that freaked her out, or laugh at her as she walked by, or tease her during laps in PE. And not just her—anybody! He would never hurt anybody.
She’d shown him her poetry. He’d liked it. And she believed him.
Did she like him, in that way? She didn’t know for sure.
She wanted to think about it. That was all. Think about the possibility.
With Brody, it had all been really fast, and strange, and not … What was the right word? Warm. It hadn’t been warm enough.
“Winston?”
She saw his hands freeze on the switchboard.
Nessa began to sing.
“I want to tell you something.”
She saw him hold his breath.
“Thank you for helping us.”
“No,” he whispered back, a little louder than he should have.
“Shhh.” She giggled.
He didn’t laugh with her. “Don’t give me any credit. I didn’t get the IP address. I didn’t do anything.”
“Okay, but you cared about people getting hurt. Even when you weren’t one of those people who was hurt. That’s so … nice.”
Winston shook his head, as if she’d said something utterly wrong. He went back to the lights to hit a cue.
The duet soared, Nessa’s voice bouncing around every corner of the auditorium.
Soon, Nessa would reveal Brody’s crimes to the school.
In the meantime, Nessa sang flawlessly, her whole face lighting up, her beauty shimmering outward toward the entire room.
“I’m not nice, okay?” he mumbled.
“Winston?” Eve leaned in closer to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
The song faded and the audience applauded. Only two more songs before curtain call. Before they knew it, students’ phones would buzz like they had in October, and Brody would be the object of all the gawking and staring for once.
“Eve,” Winston said. It felt like the first time he’d said her name, and she turned to him. His eyes remained forward, facing the conclusion barreling toward them.
“I know who wrote the list. And it wasn’t Brody.”