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 <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;What&quot;re we celebrating?&quot; I call over the music as Jacob slides a shot down the bar at Leo&quot;s. &quot;Landed an audition.&quot; He lifts his glass and clinks mine, and we both drink. The alcohol burns down my throat, welcome and bracing at once. The first two days back to school are turning out to be a rude awakening but not for the reasons I expected. Our fridge is broken, ruining the food I bought on the weekend. Our landlord is dodging me, and the guy I called today to fix it said he&quot;d come by tomorrow between eight and whenever he feels like it. I had my first weekly guitar lesson this afternoon with my intensive professor&mdash;the guy who&quot;s assigned to oversee my development&mdash;during which he wan

&quot;You were great at Leo&quot;s last night.&quot; I look up from my notebook the next afternoon at the Vanier library to see a slender blond guy from class leaning over my chair. &quot;Jorge,&quot; he volunteers. &quot;We survived acting intensive together with Ms. Miranda Tamayo.&quot; &quot;Right.&quot; I smile back. I don&quot;t remember seeing him at Leo&quot;s, but most of the night I was distracted&mdash;by my need to prove myself and by the one guy who could ruin my chances of doing that. &quot;Homework?&quot; Jorge nods to my notebook. &quot;No, actually. Just writing.&quot; I used to force my brain to work in logic and answers and solutions. Getting good grades meant everything needed to fit in

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 <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">After the assembly, I head to my room to grab my bag for class. But as I get to the top of the stairs and glance down the hall, I realize my door is ajar. What the&hellip;? I push it wide. Inside is a girl with long, dark hair up in a giant topknot. She has on Beats headphones, and she&quot;s brought a backpack and a single trunk that&quot;s wedged at the end of the second bed that&quot;s been untouched since I moved in yesterday. &quot;Hey,&quot; I volunteer. &quot;I&quot;m Emily. I guess we&quot;re roommates.&quot; The girl doesn&quot;t answer or take off her headphones but reaches for an earpiece to touch a button. &quot;Are you Erica Millers?&quot; I try again. This time, she cuts a glance over

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 <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;What&quot;re we celebrating?&quot; I call over the music as Jacob slides a shot down the bar at Leo&quot;s. &quot;Landed an audition.&quot; He lifts his glass and clinks mine, and we both drink. The alcohol burns down my throat, welcome and bracing at once. The first two days back to school are turning out to be a rude awakening but not for the reasons I expected. Our fridge is broken, ruining the food I bought on the weekend. Our landlord is dodging me, and the guy I called today to fix it said he&quot;d come by tomorrow between eight and whenever he feels like it. I had my first weekly guitar lesson this afternoon with my intensive professor&mdash;the guy who&quot;s assigned to oversee my development&mdash;during which he wanted to lecture me about the &quot;evolution of my style.&quot; Which probably could&quot;ve

CHAPTER 24