“What doesn’t make sense?” Jake said as he materialized beside Ally. I jumped, and Ally let out a squeak.

“Jake!” She put her hand to her chest. “You can’t go around sneaking up on people like that. You could’ve given me a legitimate heart attack.” She wiggled some fingers in my direction and stuck her tongue out at him before she flounced away.

“Hey,” I said, slamming my locker door shut. I started toward history class.

“How’s your first day back so far?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Teachers are being super nice. Jorgensen told me after homeroom I don’t need to take that quiz Wednesday if I don’t want to.”

“You mean I didn’t have to take notes for you?”

“I guess not.” I bit back a smile. “Thanks for those, by the way.”

“Sure.” He lifted his chin to acknowledge Keith and some other guys as they passed us before he said, “I texted you yesterday.”

“Oh, I turned off my phone,” I lied, hoping he wouldn’t question me. I glanced at him but couldn’t read his expression. “Did you and Clover have fun Saturday?”

He grunted, which could have meant anything, and I inwardly fumed. If he wasn’t going to clue me in on whatever was happening between him and Clover, I wasn’t going to pry. And I wasn’t going to moon over him like some lovesick puppy dog, either. Friend or no, I refused to be a part of the game he was playing.

“Did you finish those posters for Chicago?” he asked.

“Mostly.”

“And Riley’s deciding today?”

“Yeah.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence and were almost at our class when he grabbed my hand to stop me.

“Are you okay?” he said, his brow furrowed with concern.

I pulled my hand from his reach and folded my arms across my chest. “What? No. I’m fine.”

“Did I miss something? It kind of feels like you’re approaching subzero.”

I stared at him and weighed the possibility he might not have known what he’d done. But that was ludicrous. The more I considered it, the more certain I was there was no way he could not know. Guys didn’t go kissing girls the way he kissed me and then go out on a date with a different girl the next night. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it when I realized I didn’t know where to begin. I turned away with a huff and left him in the middle of the hall as I strode into class.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I couldn’t hold my breath while Mrs. Riley reviewed my artwork after school that day, but I tried. From a crack in the door, I peered into the art studio from the adjoining lecture classroom and watched as Mr. Collins put each of my drawings on an easel at the front of the studio art room.

The willowy drama director silently glided back and forth among them. Every time she stopped to study one more closely, it took all my willpower to keep my feet rooted and not rush into the room to explain my work.

She pointed to the poster I’d spent the least amount of time on. It was a silhouetted skyline with Chicago in bold, graffiti-style letters rising from the tops of the buildings. I shoved my hands in my skort pockets to keep from wringing them.

“Not this one,” she said, stressing the first word. “It’s generic. Flat. Uninspired.”

Wow. That was harsh.

I must have let out a small whimper, because Mr. Collins looked toward my hiding place and raised his eyebrows. I widened the crack enough to wave, and he smiled though he shook his head.

Generic, Mrs. Riley had said. Flat. Uninspired.

I agreed with the “generic” part of it, but if I admitted that aloud, I was sure they both would’ve asked why I’d bothered to submit it.

Well, that one hadn’t been my favorite, anyway.

My heart raced as Mrs. Riley stood between the remaining two sketches, her back to me, and I wished I knew what she was thinking. I was most proud of my Struzan-esque design, of course, but I thought the other one was pretty good, too. I’d splayed Chicago across the sheet in huge letters with vignettes of key scenes from the play in each one.

“These show some promise,” she said. I waited for her to say more, but she began pacing the short distance between my drawings instead. A quick glance at Mr. Collins assured me he was probably nervous, too, and it made me feel a lot better.

Finally, she stopped in front of my preferred design. “Conceptually,” she said, “this is quite sophisticated. It’s compelling and rather ambitious.”

A small gasp escaped my lips. I would have done a series of backflips right then if I’d known how.

“A more experienced artist could execute it better, though,” she said. “She’s not talented enough.”

My heart dropped like a stone into my gut. In ten seconds, I went from soaring above the clouds to wanting to dig myself a hole at the bottom of the ocean. I didn’t hear anything else she said. She was pointing at different elements, and I could see her lips moving, but the rest of my senses dulled.

She’s not talented enough. Her words seared my soul and etched themselves onto my brain.

Mrs. Riley pointed to the last one and moved her hands in large, sweeping gestures. I rubbed my eyes to refocus on what she was saying.

“—holds my attention, and the result is rather charming.” She turned to Mr. Collins with a rare smile. “Please extend my thanks to Miss Nicoletti, Todd,” she said. “I look forward to reviewing her resubmission Friday.” And she breezed out of the room.

Mr. Collins waited a beat before he said, “You can come out now, Talia. It’s safe.”

My art teacher began taking down my work as I slinked into the studio. I was still reeling from the rejection. My mouth was dry as I worked up the courage to speak. “I’m sorry, Mr. Collins. I know that could’ve gone better.”

“Meetings like these can always go better.” He didn’t look at me. Instead, he was busy putting my artwork back into my portfolio case.

I didn’t know what made me feel worse, the fact Riley said I wasn’t talented or that I’d disappointed my favorite teacher. I climbed up onto a stool and slumped where I sat, crushed.

“You heard her feedback,” he said, sliding something on the table before me. It was the last sketch Mrs. Riley looked at. “The question now is how you can take this one up a level or three.”

I was puzzled. “What?”

“You don’t have to make any decisions now,” Mr. Collins said. “In fact, it’s usually better to digest the criticism for a while before diving back into it. We’ve got to bring it back to her Friday, though, so I’d—”

“But she didn’t like any of them,” I said.

Now Mr. Collins looked confused. “Of course she did. I believe she called this one ‘charming.’” He grinned. “That’s high praise coming from Elizabeth.”

Somehow, that still didn’t make me feel any better. I remained silent, and he grabbed a stool to sit across from me.

“Do you remember how I warned you against giving Mrs. Riley more power than she really has?” He pushed his black frames up higher on his nose, and I nodded. “Hers is a single opinion. As an artist, you’re going to experience a lot of negative reviews, and some of it will sting. A lot.”

“But she said I wasn’t talented enough.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and I was certain he was going to agree with her. But he stood, took out the other two drawings from my portfolio case, and laid them out on the table. I looked down at all three of my concepts and tried to see what they saw.

“I don’t know if this was deliberate,” he said, “but you chose a solid array of pieces to show her. They’re all unique. They all show a different side of you. But most important, they all show what you can do.” He pushed the silhouetted skyline closer to me. “Flat, generic, uninspired,” he said, echoing her words, “and I would agree.” He ignored my scowl. “This one’s easy for you. It’s smart because it’s simple and minimal, but it’s also safe. I would’ve passed on this, too, because I know you’re far more capable than this.” He pulled back the silhouette and pushed the other rejected design forward.