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for false advertising.”
    That night we make a pact to only purchase frozen meals. It’s the surest way to prevent starvation.
    The next day is the first day of classes, and Ruby and I walk the short distance from our apartment to the main campus.
    In the three days since we arrived, we’ve spent some time exploring our new school. The campus isn’t huge, but it’s well laid out, and the buildings are a nice mix between traditional and contemporary.
    In the middle of everything is the Hub—a large, four-story building that houses the library, cafeteria, student lounge, and several large lecture theaters.
    Placed around the Hub, like petals of a flower, are the various arts buildings, one for each discipline: dance, drama, music, and visual arts.
    This morning Ruby and I are headed to the Hub to hear the dean’s welcome speech.
    We walk into the huge lecture theater where there are about two hundred freshmen milling around. Everyone is introducing themselves and checking one another out.
    I hate this.
    So many new faces. New expectations to meet.
    It’s overwhelming.
    I can make out various cliques by the way they’re dressed. The dancers are all Lycra and layers, the musicians have a vague, retro-geek air about them, and the visual artists look like they were stealing stuff from a thrift store when a paint bomb exploded.
    The really loud, obnoxious kids are the drama students.
    I feel my chest tighten as I wonder if I’ll fit in here any better than I did in high school.
    It’s not like I didn’t have friends in high school. I did. But I was always careful to be the Cassie I thought they expected. Happy, easy-going, nonthreatening. Smart but not intimidating. Pretty but not desired. The one who acted as the go-between when someone liked a boy, but never the one the boy liked.
    I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. This is a new school, new people, new rules. Maybe someone here will see beyond my many fake faces.
    “Come on,” Ruby says. “Let’s get seats so we don’t have to talk to any of these fuckers.”
    In that moment, I love her.
    We walk to the middle of the auditorium and take our seats. A few minutes later, I see a familiar face heading over to us.
    “Hey, Cassie.”
    “Connor! Hi.”
    I’d met Connor at the callbacks. We’d been paired up for some scene work, and even though we didn’t have the same crazy intensity I’d shared with Holt, we still had decent chemistry. He’s also very cute and, as far as I can tell, straight, which is a rarity among theater boys.
    He motions to the seat next to me. “May I?”
    “Sure.” I introduce Ruby, who already looks bored.
    Connor folds himself into the chair beside me, and I give him a smile. Sandy-colored hair, brown eyes, open face I’ve yet to see frown. Definitely cute.
    “I’m so glad you got in,” he says. “At least I’ll know one person in the class.”
    “Yeah, I haven’t seen anyone else I know yet.”
    “I saw a couple of familiar faces.” He looks around. “But I’m bad with names. I saw that blond girl who talks a lot…”
    “Zoe?”
    “Yeah. And the tall guy with the cool hair.”
    “Holt?”
    “Yeah. He’s right over there.”
    He points to the far side of the auditorium where I see Holt’s lanky frame slouched in a seat. He has his feet up on the chair in front of him and his head in the same book he was reading at the auditions. He must really love The Outsiders .
    I get a strange tingling in my stomach when I look at him. I’m happy he made it. Getting into this place meant a lot to him, and apart from his obvious personality disorders, he’s really talented.
    “He seems like a loner,” Connor says. I don’t miss that his arm is lying across the back of my chair. “But man, he can act. I saw him do Mercutio last year at the Tribeca Shakespeare Festival. He was amazing.”
    “I’m sure.” I get a crystal-clear image of Holt as a modern-day Mercutio. All leather and denim and dark, glowering