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a… date? “Next Friday I'm probably reviewing whatever awful indie Ms. Neiman is obsessed with and no one else will go see for next week's issue,” I say nervously and rock in my swivel chair to calm down.
    “What if I suffer through it with you and we get dinner before or afterward?” Zac asks.
    He
is
asking me out on a date! I tilt so far back on my chair I practically backflip over it. Zac catches the armrest and steadies me. I try to pretend like nothing happened. “That would be…”
    Awesome? Amazing? What I've been hoping you'd ask all year?
    “Okay,” I say calmly.
    “Okay,” Zac repeats and grins. “We'll wait for your awful assignment and make plans after that.
And
celebrate you saying yes to that
huge
decision you have to make.”
    “You don't even know what I'm making a decision about,” I point out. “How do you know I'll say yes?”
    Zac smiles. “Because I know you—you wouldn't be obsessing over it this much if you didn't want to do it. It's like the time Ms. Neiman asked you to cover Z100's Zootopia concert. You freaked out about interviewing Taylor Swift, but you had the guts to do it anyway.”
    “I asked her three questions before they whisked her out on stage,” I remind him.
    “But you did it, didn't you?” Zac says. “Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith, Charlie. Ask yourself this—are you going to be more happy that you said yes and were a little scared, or more upset that you said no and always wondered what if?”
    I pull my cell phone out of my bag and look at the photo wallpaper of Taylor and me. Covering the concert was worth it. I look at Zac. “I think you just made my decision for me.”
    Two periods later, I'm practically floating through the hallways. Zac asked me out! Sure, I'm nervous about what will happen, but I don't want to miss out on something that could be amazing. The same goes for the show. I have to give it a shot.
    When I see the girls standing anxiously by Hallie's locker, I can hardly get the words out, I'm that excited.
    “Zac asked you out,” Hallie says the minute she sees me.
    I stop dead in my tracks. “How did you know?”
    “He did?” she shrieks, sending the others into near convulsions as well. “I was just guessing! I didn't really know.”
    “I think you have a career as a psychic ahead of you, Hallie,” Brooke marvels. “Not that I didn't think this would happen eventually.”
    Hallie waves her off. “Tell us every detail. How did it happen? What did he say? Where are you going? What was he wearing when he asked you?”
    I put my hands up to protest. “I'll tell you everything, just not here.” I glance around the crowded hallway. One thing about a small school is that all news—good and bad—travels at lightning speed. “And besides, that's not the only reason why I'm excited,” I blurt out and Brooke instinctively grabs her chest. “I'm in. I want to do the show.”
    The girls throw themselves at me.
    “You're not going to regret this.” Brooke hugs me tight. “This show is going to change all our lives.”
    I squeeze her back. “I know.”
     

three
    The Grass Feels Plush on the Other Side
     
    Brooke lets out a scream so loud it could shatter the car windows. “Can you guys believe this? We're less than fifteen minutes away from being at a party with celebrities! Someone pinch me.”
    “I haven't seen her this happy since Marc Zeaman dumped Sara Meyer in tenth grade so he could take Brooke to the spring carnival,” Hallie quips.
    I laugh. If anyone is ready for a TV close-up, it's Brooke. Her hair is a trifecta of cool—smooth, shiny, and curly at the ends after spending hours in foam rollers this afternoon. Brooke said we had to go all Blake Lively, so she's wearing a black-and-white strapless mini she scored at the Off-Fifth outlet. It's just like one we saw on
Gossip Girl
a few weeks back.
    Brooke insisted we meet to prep at her house three hours before we had to leave. We did each other's hair and