From Publishers Weekly

Calin’s first novel, a story of romantic entanglements and self-discovery, has a few tricks up its sleeve that help it stand out from the pack. First is the pseudo-screenplay format, which has dialogue appearing between prose sections written from the first-person perspective of 16-year-old Phyre, who comes across as the star, author, and director of her story. Calin’s second hook is that Phyre’s closest friend is referred to only as “You,” and his/her gender is never identified, recalling Steve Brezenoff’s Brooklyn Burning.

Phyre and “You” are inseparable until Phyre develops feelings for the school’s passionate new drama teacher, Mia. Acting class exercises unleash Phyre and You’s emotions, and when Phyre is cast as the lead in the school play (which blatantly mirrors Phyre’s situation) she becomes increasingly distant from You while remaining blind to her friend’s romantic feelings for her. With Phyre’s interior thoughts and descriptions taking the place of stage notes, the novel reads more like an extended monologue than a conventional screenplay, but readers will feel as if they are sitting beside Phyre on her emotional roller-coaster. Ages 12–up. Agent: Brenda Bowen, Sanford J. Greenburger Associates. (Aug.)
Reviewed on: 06/22/2012

From Booklist

Sixteen-year-old Phyre is captivated by her drama teacher, Mia, who has an unorthodox teaching style, a passion for theater that may even surpass Phyre’s, and an indefinable something else that leaves Phyre wondering whether she wants “to be [Mia] or kiss her.” Phyre’s roller-coaster emotions carry her through her crush, the school rumor mill, and a play within this loosely screenplay-styled first novel. Meanwhile, “you,” a steadfast companion and sometimes doormat with no gender indicated, is clearly in love with her. Phyre’s self-absorption prevents readers from truly empathizing with her, and although the format and second-person narration are a unique mix and the language is poetic, some readers may find the emotional thrust diluted by these trappings. Even so, this is a quick read that addresses the pain and exhilaration of infatuation—with a same-sex teacher, no less; the basic need to love who you love; and the confusion and possibilities of questioning one’s sexuality, without judgment or sensationalism.

From VOYA

Phyre wants to be an actress, and when beautiful new drama teacher, Mia, casts Phyre as the lead in the school play, Phyre has the chance to live out her dream. But working on the play has unintended consequences. Phyre’s relationship with her lifelong best friend is strained; Phyre’s leading man develops an unwanted crush on her; and, most significantly, Phyre develops a crush on Mia. Becoming infatuated with Mia—a teacher and a woman—sends Phyre reeling. But when the play’s content hits a little too close to home, Phyre is able to move beyond her obsession with Mia in order to re-see how important her best friend is in her life, and that s/he has been there all along.

What is interesting about this book is that Phyre’s best friend, referred to throughout only as “you,” is never named or otherwise gendered. Told in screenplay format, “you” could be read as a male or a female. If read as a female, this is an interesting choice; in the final scene Phyre pulls “you” into her arms for the perfect passionate movie kiss. Read as a male, however, Phyre’s story “resolves” when she returns to hetero-normativity, marking her interest in a woman as merely a phase or immature idolization, rather than real romantic love. Nonetheless, Phyre’s interest in Mia is depicted as being more taboo because Mia is a teacher than because she is a woman, which is worthy of note. The content, ambiguity, and play-within-a-play format are notable, though in certain ways the story itself is a bit ordinary.—VOYA, April issue