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be an actress?”
    I knew I should’ve said something about my passion for theater, or the importance of a vibrant, evolving culture in a world of disposable ideals and reality television. But as she stared at me, I wasn’t able to think of anything clever enough to fool her, so I spoke without thinking.
    “I want to act because I don’t really know who I am. I find relief in being other people.”
    She held my gaze for a moment then nodded before writing something in her notes. Probably crazy, emotionally dysfunctional teen with self-esteem issues. Don’t make any sudden movements.
    I walked out feeling like I’d left pieces of myself all over the floor.
    Still, I must have done something right, because two months later, I received my acceptance letter.
    The day I got it, I screamed so loudly, I scared the neighbor’s dog.
    I knew Mom and Dad weren’t thrilled about the prospect of me moving to the other side of the country, but they also knew that acting was my passion, and being accepted at The Grove was a pretty big deal. It also helped that I was awarded a partial scholarship that covered half my tuition and on-campus accommodation. Considering that we weren’t the Vanderbilts, that was a huge bonus.
    In the back of my mind was the vague hope that Holt had gotten in.
    I figured if he had, at least I’d know one person. One kind of annoying, strangely intriguing person.
    Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
The Grove
First week of classes
    I walk through the apartment with a huge smile on my face.
    There are two bedrooms separated by a poky bathroom, a combined living/dining area, and a small kitchen. The furniture is worn and dated, the carpet is hideous and stained with stuff I don’t even want to think about, and I think the upstairs neighbor dances naked in the moonlight while he sacrifices small animals, because seriously, the dude is weird . But despite all this, it’s perfect and beautiful and mine.
    Well, I’m sharing it with a theater tech major named Ruby, but still …
    I can do what I want. Eat what I want. Go to bed when I want. No parents cataloguing my every move.
    I’m almost giddy with the possibilities.
    “You owe me thirty bucks for groceries,” Ruby says as she studies the receipt. “Oh, wait, make that thirty-four. The tampons are yours.”
    It’s weird moving in with a stranger, but Ruby and I have been getting along great, considering she’s my polar opposite. I’m mousy brown, she’s fiery red. I’m average looking, she’s spectacular. I’m a people pleaser, she’s brutally honest.
    She flops down in our ugly brown vinyl couch and lights up a cigarette. She holds the pack out to me, and I take one.
    Oh, yeah, I’m a smoker now.
    Well, I’m not, but when Ruby said she was, I just went with it. It was something for us to bond over. Plus, I knew most of the people at the auditions smoked, so it seemed like the thing to do. Also, my mother would have hated it.
    All good reasons to take it up.
    She lights me up, and I inhale shallowly, then cough. Ruby shakes her head.
    I’m the worst apprentice smoker ever.
    “So,” she says as she blows out a stream of smoke, “it’s your turn to cook, unfortunately.”
    “Hey. I thought what I made the other night was good, considering I’ve never cooked before.”
    “Woman,” she says with a sigh, “you screwed up mac and cheese. Seriously, if you fail at cooking that crap, we’re never going to survive the college experience.”
    “Then thank God you’re here to teach me.” I drag her off the couch, trudge into the kitchen, and get some steak and vegetables out of the fridge.
    The thing is, Ruby isn’t exactly a gourmet chef, either, so we end up with rock-hard steak, lumpy mashed potatoes, and green beans that are so limp, I could knit them into a scarf.
    “I’m writing to the Cooking Channel to complain,” Ruby says as she pushes the food around on her plate. “Those bitches make cooking look easy. I’m suing them