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Until I climbed those steps to the lighting booth I didn’t really know that I had a crush on Rob. There were girls at Carlson who hiked up their tartan skirts and wore thigh-high stockings. They spent forever in the bathrooms applying eyeliner and smoking. I was still wearing knee socks and a training bra. I never made eye contact with Rob again. From that point on, I carried out my stage-managing duties with grim solemnity, nothing more than a dust mote suspended in a lantern’s high beam.
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