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I grab my phone, and my heart jumps. I’m accidentally calling Margo. I must’ve tapped the call button when I dropped my phone. My nervous system lights up, every part of me on fire. I end the call and hold my breath. My pulse is racing.

“What’s with you?” Olive says, scowling. “Are you doing something you shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s not like that.” Well... I mean I did call Margo, which is definitely something I shouldn’t do, but I’m not going to tell Olive about that.

Olive scowls and leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “Are you sure? Because you seem pretty guilty.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“I’ll leave if you say you’ll help me practice my lines later,” she says.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I say. “Now, get out of here.”

Olive smiles and ducks out of the room.

I’m not going to be able to sleep after the way my pulse jumped at the idea of calling Margo. My nervous system is on edge. My eyes are never going to close at this rate. They will stay open forever.

To try and get my mind off it, I reach for my messenger bag. I fish out my book and start writing to clear my head.

At five minutes past eight, my phone rings. Margo’s name fills the screen, and my hands go numb. Should I answer it? What would I say? I’m bad at talking on the phone. I’m bad at talking in general.

I bite my lip and answer it. I can just explain to her what happened and hang up. No, on second thought, I shouldn’t do that. How am I supposed to explain I was looking at her messages? She’d take that the wrong way. I’m sure of it.

But there’s also a tiny part of me that wants to hear her voice again. I like the squeal she makes when she laughs and the sarcastic tone that coats most of her words.

“Hello,” she says. Her voice is almost too quiet to hear.

“Hi.”

Hi?I grimace. Why did I do this?

“Are you going to say something?” she asks.

I stare at my ceiling, trying to convince myself this is something normal people do. It shouldn’t be hard, and yet, this feels like the most unnatural thing I’ve ever done. “Like what?”

She chuckles. “Like... tell me why you called.”

“Oh, that.” I need an excuse, and I need it fast.

“Yeah, that.” She is so quiet, so unlike Margo. While I should be thinking about what to say, the only thing on my mind is why she’s acting weird.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because I’m in the bathroom— No, I mean, I’m not using it. I’m just in it. Calling you.”

I laugh softly. “Why?”

“I asked my question first,” she says.

I scratch my head, searching for an answer that doesn’texist. I finally settle on the most obvious reason I can think of. “Did you find my dad yet?”

“Really? You can’t be serious.” I can picture her face mocking me. Judging me.

The corner of my mouth pulls up. “Well, did you?”

“You are the most impatient person I’ve ever met. It’s been four hours since I saw you, and I was at the movies. Did you expect me to pull him out of a hat for you? Things like this take time. It won’t happen overnight.”

My chest eases, and I start to relax. “Aren’t you the self-proclaimed Great Margo Blakely? I feel like everything you do should take a maximum of two-to-four business days.”