Wren drew the boy two rows ahead as a sulky penguin, and the bell rang before she could cover the page. She slammed her sketchbook shut against her chest. Third period Houston sun was baking the portables, and her whole plan for this semester lived inside that book: a caricature so sharp and so kind that Diego would laugh at himself and ask her out anyway. She had been practicing his jawline for a week. If anyone at Bellaire High saw the drafts before he did, the joke would belong to the hallway instead of to her. She tried the library first. Two girls from her art class were already at the good table, so she moved to a carrel and opened to a fresh page. A freshman leaned over the divider to ask what she was drawing. Wren covered the paper with her arm and left. She tried the bathroom stall, but the light was yellow and someone kept knocking. She tried a bench under the live oaks, and a group of seniors sat down close enough to read over her shoulder. Every place in school belonged to someone else's eyes. At lunch her cousin Priya slid a keycard across the table. Priya house-sat on weekends for a family with a big place off Kirby, a stucco mansion with a bright pink pool the neighbors complained about. Owners in Galveston until Sunday. Priya said Wren could use the pool house if she watered the plants and fed the little pink pony figurine on the shelf, which was a joke, but Priya was serious about the plants. Wren took the card before Priya could change her mind. She rode the bus after school and let herself in through the side gate. The pool house was empty and cool and had a glass table she could spread everything across. She pinned up three drafts of Diego and worked until the sun dropped behind the roofline. The caricature finally landed: his crooked smile, the way one eyebrow always doubted her. She was signing the corner when her phone buzzed. Priya. Owners came back early. They're pulling into the driveway. Wren swept the drafts into her folder, shoved the folder into her bag, and ran for the gate. She made it to the sidewalk before the garage door opened. Halfway to the bus stop she checked her bag. One page was missing. She had left the best drawing of Diego pinned to the wall of a stranger's pool house, signed.