All the Way by Megan Stine

throat. “I just hope Tyler won’t see it,” I said.
    â€œI’m sure he already did,” Ariel said flatly. “Didn’t you read through the names on the e-mail? The whole cast got the memo. I mean, so did everyone in the whole senior class.”
    Oh. Right .
    I braced myself for another humiliating day at school the next day, and I wasn’t wrong. People were smirking behind my back all day, and half the people in my classes seemed to have loaded the photo into their cell phones.
    As I walked into chemistry, Natalie was sending a text message to someone. I caught a glimpse of that photo of me with Hot Box Club written across it on the screen of her cell.
    I sat down and started typing Screw you into my cell, but I didn’t know Natalie’s number, so I couldn’t really send it.
    When I looked up, Mr. Rhinegold was standing over me, staring down at my phone. Luckily, he’s nearsighted.
    â€œCarmen, if you’ve got such an important message to send someone, maybe you ought to deliver it in person,” he said.
    The whole class erupted in laughter. Not that they had a clue about what I was typing. But these days, a simple, innocent phrase like “deliver it in person” suddenly seemed like primo comedy material when it was about me.
    â€œI’d like to deliver it in person,” I said, spitting the words out as coldly as I could while glaring at Natalie.
    I think I caught Rhinegold by surprise. Normally, I’m not a smart-mouth. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just cleared his throat and moved on.
    When last period was over, I practically ran to the auditorium, bumping into David at the doorway.
    â€œHey, Carmen,” he said, his puppy dog eyes looking longingly at me.
    â€œHi, David.” I scooted past him as he climbed the stairs to the audio booth.
    You’re not the one I’m hoping to bump into, I thought as I slipped into the auditorium, searching for Tyler in the dark.
    I’d been hoping to catch him before Natalie got there. I hadn’t seen him all day—not in the halls, or at lunch—and I was dying to know how he’d act when he saw me. He didn’t even show up for English. He’d cut class to take some friend to get his driver’s license. Or that’s what I heard, anyway. (What senior guy doesn’t have a license already? It sounded pretty sketchy, but who knows.)
    So anyway, I had no idea. Was he going to snicker and act like I was the piece of trash everyone was making me out to be? Or act kind of awkward and cool, like he didn’t want to dump me as a friend, but he didn’t want to hang with me either? Or was he going to be as sweet and nice and adorable as he’d been yesterday?
    I had to find out. I’m the type who, if you say, “There’s good news and bad news,” I always want the bad news first.
    A few people were down front, near the stage, dropping their things into empty seats and getting ready for rehearsal.
    â€œHi,” Tyler said, his face lighting up when he saw me dashing through the auditorium, all breathless.
    â€œHi.”
    It’s amazing how something as tiny as a smile from someone can turn your day around. I know—so corny. So cliché. But so true.
    â€œWhat happened to you today?” I asked. “I missed you in English.”
    â€œOh, Jesse Jelinek needed a ride to get his license, so I took him. We cut out.”
    â€œJesse Jelinek?”
    â€œHe’s a junior. We were in jazz band together last year.”
    â€œI didn’t know you played an instrument!” I blurted out, and a few people turned to look.
    â€œPiano,” he said. “But I dropped out when Jelinek came along, because he’s so much better than me.”
    I squinted at him in the semidarkened auditorium. “So you’re a quitter?” I was only partly teasing him.
    â€œI’m a realist,” he said. “I only go after