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 <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;Where you going this early? Breakfast at Vanier?&quot; Jacob&quot;s voice comes from the kitchen Thursday morning. &quot;Nah, I can make use of the now-functioning fridge,&quot; I reply. &quot;There&quot;s some non-moldy cream cheese in there.&quot; I pack my guitar in its case and give myself a quick once-over in the bedroom mirror on the badly painted dresser that came with the apartment. My shirt is not only clean but ironed, and my hair&quot;s doing more or less what I want. I&quot;ll take it as a win. &quot;Yeah, but there&quot;s nothing to put it on. Except an overripe banana.&quot; Jacob peers inside as I pass him, guitar in tow. &quot;Figured you&quot;d be into that

&quot;You going to &lsquo;practice&quot; with Timothy again?&quot; I&quot;m walking past Andi'e&quot;s open dorm door with my bag and jacket when her voice has me pulling up. I step into her doorway, taking in the sight of my friend reclined on her bed, notebook in her lap. &quot;What&quot;s with the finger quotes?&quot; I ask. &quot;You&quot;ve been spending every second together all week. If your strategy is to get close enough to back stab the competition, you&quot;re running out of time.&quot; &quot;We&quot;re competing, but our biggest competition is the dozens of other people auditioning.&quot; She cocks her head. &quot;You realize there&quot;s only one closing spot.&quot; Which is why even though we&quot;ve practiced together a few times, those long l

I knew going home for the weekend would be a minefield, but it&quot;s even more treacherous than I imagined. All my dad&quot;s friends are in one house to celebrate his award, and the table is full of friends bursting with well-intention and dangerous curiosity. &quot;How&quot;re classes?&quot; Nina, my dad&quot;s former tour manager, asks me over dinner Saturday night. &quot;Hard, but at least they&quot;re interesting,&quot; I say. &quot;I have two essays and a project due before midterms.&quot; So far, so good. I take a congratulatory bite of fettucine, cooked to perfection by the chef Dad and Haley hired when Sophia hit two and Haley started working again full-time. &quot;How&quot;s Avery?&quot; Haley asks. My stomach untwists a little. &quot;Already planning her platf

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 <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;Where you going this early? Breakfast at Vanier?&quot; Jacob&quot;s voice comes from the kitchen Thursday morning. &quot;Nah, I can make use of the now-functioning fridge,&quot; I reply. &quot;There&quot;s some non-moldy cream cheese in there.&quot; I pack my guitar in its case and give myself a quick once-over in the bedroom mirror on the badly painted dresser that came with the apartment. My shirt is not only clean but ironed, and my hair&quot;s doing more or less what I want. I&quot;ll take it as a win. &quot;Yeah, but there&quot;s nothing to put it on. Except an overripe banana.&quot; Jacob peers inside as I pass him, guitar in tow. &quot;Figured you&quot;d be into that,&quot; I say as I head for the front door. &quot;Overripe is a problem,&q

CHAPTER 28