My heart sinks — if I did have the main part, surely someone would say something, call my name...

Wednesday is Miss Weller’s day off. It’s also the day that — rumor has it — the Lists will be posted.

Chaya and Shaindy spend half the morning at the spare desk in the secretary’s office, looking highly important and secretive. When I walk past to pick something up for Mrs. Becker, I glance at Chaya’s jewel-purple notebook, open to a page covered in writing, cross-outs, and more writing. She sees me looking and casually flips it shut, fixing her eyes on the computer screen.

Okay, whatever. It’s not like I’m desperate or anything.

I turn back to the classroom.

Lunch period is heralded by the noise of the entire ninth grade charging down the hallways to the front bulletin board, evidently dismissed from class early. Our teacher, Mrs. Becker, frowns in disapproval and pointedly continues dictating notes until the bell rings. Inside me, a coil of tension is stretched to breaking point.

Of course, when we actually get there, we can’t get anywhere near the lists. Ninth, tenth, and eleventh graders jostle with each other, shrieking as they find out where they’ve been placed.

“Rena?” Baylee tugs my arm. “I think they’re putting up another list by the 12th grade lockers.”

We detach ourselves from the crowd and hurry up the stairs. Shaindy’s just sticking up the last list, several of our classmates reading eagerly over her shoulder. No one seems to notice us coming, and my heart sinks — if I did have the main part, surely someone would say something, call my name...

“Mindy! Omigosh, Mindy!”

“Clara? Who’s that? Does anyone know if Clara’s a good part?”

“I can’t believe we’re not together....”