Roz and I are pretty quiet most of the way to the set. I'm pretending to read—today, a tattered, coffee-stained copy of Jane Eyre I got second-hand at the Book Burrow—while she's busy staring out the window. I've never been in a Lyft before with Roz where she doesn't strike up a conversation with the driver immediately. Something is definitely on her mind.

It's not Ottilie, I tell myself. That's not what this is.

When we arrive on set, Roz gives a quick 'thank you' to the driver and steps out right as the car comes to a full stop. I lag behind her—I'm a little busy taking it all in.

I always imagined the set of All Hail Mary would look something like this. The filmmakers managed to scout out a modest-sized liberal arts college that's inside the city, but somehow feels entirely separate from its surroundings, as if it's in its own little universe, keeping entirely to itself.

The buildings are a darker brick than I'd expected, complete with thick ropes of ivy crawling up the sides of walls and black-framed Georgian windows looking out onto the inexplicably green grass. It's summer time, so the rolling lawns and mixture of row-planted and randomly strewn-about trees seem highly saturated, like shades of green you haven't seen since you were a kid, ones you forgot could be so bright. That, paired with the cloudless blue sky, gives off a somewhat ethereal vibe.

There's also a certain kind of magic about the crews already here. There are white tents set up across the lawn, which are full to the brim with various movie people. I don't spot Ottilie, or any of the rest of the cast for that matter, but I'm okay with that.

I'm still looking around the sprawling campus lawn when I realize that Roz has walked off without me. Almost self-consciously, I glance around quickly, then hurry to follow in her steps. I'm quick to realize whom we're headed towards: Catalina and Mauro.

"Caaaat," coos Roz, stepping under the largest of the tents and preemptively leaning in for a hug. "I missed you."

"Hiiii," Catalina coos in turn, pulling her in tight. "I've missed you so much."

"How was Georgia?" Roz asks, stepping back. "Everything we feared?"

"Not quite." Catalina's grin is insatiable. Her billowy skirt and loose blouse combo give her a more casual, summery vibe, a stark contrast to Roz's loafers, tailored grey pants, and no-sleeve, no-nonsense wool vest combo. "I mean, heat and sweat aside, of course."

"She was not a fan of the heat and the sweat," Mauro notes from a foot or so behind Catalina. I look at him and wish I hadn't—our eyes meet, and it's so awkward that I think I might just end it all. We both look away quickly. I've stopped thinking he's so terribly weird all the time (I think he's just very socially inept), but that doesn't mean I have anything to talk to him about.

"I can't even feel bad for you," Roz says stiffly. "Leaving me here, all by my lonesome for months."

"You had Marcie," Catalina points out, reaching over and giving me a quick side-hug. I feel my eyes go wide as I hastily try to return it in time—which doesn't really work. I'm left slightly off-kilter when she draws back just as quickly as she came. "Hi, doll. Your hair is getting so long. It suits you."

"Oh." I tug at a strand of hair despite myself. I don't know why this is reminding me of trying to infiltrate the adult table at Thanksgiving, but the vibes are strong. "Thank you."

Catalina has been nothing if not nice to me since Roz and I started dating, but sometimes, I wonder what she really thinks about the coupling. I mean, she was strongly opposed to it before the gala (understatement), and it's not as if she and I have spoken about it since. I'm just going to assume that, so long as Roz is happy, she's happy.

I glance around at the rest of the tent, where I'm expecting to see one of those super tall director's chairs. I don't see any of that—but I do spot the movie's director herself, Ada Demir. She's wearing a loose grey T-shirt and light-wash jeans that probably cost more than my monthly rent, and her wavy, dirty blonde-dyed hair is tied up in a ponytail and laced through the back of her ball cap.

Her arms are crossed as she talks to her assistant director, David Ross Charmichael (Roz and I call him Dr. Charm behind his back; one time, Mauro tried to get in on the action and called him "Mr. Congo," which was confusing and a little bit disconcerting until we realized his initials are DRC). Next to Dr. Charm stands my least favorite person on all of the set: Ottilie Le Blanc, the ex from hell.

It's been a couple months since we last saw her. Roz and I went to Georgia for a week to watch the filming of some of Mary's most important scenes—the ones with her sister, Rachel, before she was murdered, and the ones of Mary at home, before she left for college to get her revenge.

But, of course, she looks gorgeous. She's for sure gone through makeup and wardrobe for today's filming, because in no plane of existence would Ottilie wear scruffy jeans, a muddy brown tank top, and an oversized blue flannel. Her white-blonde hair has this semi-shag cut, one that frames her angular face and brings out a certain softness to her features all at once, making her seem young enough to play an eighteen-year-old, and angry and mature enough to play Mary. But the power of the hair style is slightly undercut by her long, rectangular sunglasses, which are completely black and seem to perfectly suit her pursed, impatient lips.

I can somewhat make out what Ada is saying—something about "undermines our characterization" and "I see where you're coming from, but" and "oh, that's not"—but Ottilie's head turns slightly, and her lips go from purses to a real, earnest smile. For a split second, I'm terrified that we made eye contact. I fight the urge to snap my gaze away, instead shifting it to the building lying on the green behind her, as if I'm just casually building-watching. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.

Besides, we all know it's not me Ottilie is looking at.

"Let's just ask her herself," Ottilie says, and immediately stalks over to us without giving Ada or Dr. Charm another glance.

Before I can really comprehend it, Ottilie is in front of me, then inserting herself in our little circle so that she can talk to Roz. Her hand is on my arm, gently moving me a few steps to my right so that she can stand right next to her.

"Hi, Roz," she coos, clasping her hands together, "we have a question."

Ada and Dr. Charm are right behind her, and while Dr. Charm's pace is certainly far more frantic than Ada's, Ada seems largely unable to hide her glower. Which is surprising—I've never seen her make any sort of face before.

Then, I'm being (gently, oh so gently) pushed out of the way once more, by one, then two sets of hands, until I find myself standing outside the circle in complete disbelief.

Roz's eyes—what I can see of them—are wide. I watch her expression go from taken aback to suddenly confident—she tilts her chin upward, appraising Ottilie. One eyebrow quirks up, and, as I step to the side so I can see her better, I see her lips draw into a thin little line.

"Yes?" she asks airly.

Someone steps toward me. I glance up and see Mauro awkwardly shuffling over the grass to stand by my side. He's wearing a white Billy Crystal sweater and dark jeans, clothes I'm positive were purchased for him by Catalina. I can't judge him for the sweater in low seventy degree weather, honestly—if I didn't really like this loose graphic tee Roz found for me on a thrifting date, I'd probably have been tempted to do the same. (I never know what to wear when it's not winter.)

"Hi," he mutters.

"You scared?" I whisper back. It's meant as a joke, but then he snorts, then makes this Muaro grunt of agreement.

His voice is low, barely audible even from barely a foot away. "Can you blame me?"

No. No, I really cannot.

I tune back in to Roz, Ottilie, Ada, and the panicked-stricken Dr. Charm. "—would be more representative, I think, of your original intention for the character. Don't you?"

Roz's brow furrows. "You're not wrong.... Mauro?"

"Yes?" His voice sounds weirdly higher. Maybe Mauro just really doesn't do well with confrontation. I guess I can relate to that.

"For the bathroom scene with Chris, we've currently got it written that Mary doesn't hesitate when she drowns him. Ottilie thinks she should."

"I just worry that it would take away from the character we've built around Mary," Ada argues. "She doesn't hesitate in the book. She's hell-bent on vengeance. She's obsessive, y'know, and brutalistic, and fucking unflinching."

"But what will the audience think?" Ottilie asks, crossing her arms and tapping her chin with one purposefully bitten-down nail. "It's a lot harder to leave things open to interpretation on-screen than it is in your writing, Roz."

I bite back a frown. I get where she's coming from with that—Roz's writing is so complex that you can walk away thinking a seemingly infinite number of things, which I'm sure is harder to pull off in a movie—but somehow, it still feels like a jab.

"I think the audience will be empathetic enough," Dr. Charm says.

Ada nods. "We're putting in work in other ways. We can always screen the scene and see what the test audience's reaction is—but I'm convinced that what you're suggesting, Ottilie, this 'I'm going to leave the room and come back,' won't work."

Quietly, Mauro sighs. "That won't work," he says. "If there's hesitation, it can't bludgeon people over the head, Ottilie."

Ottilie's head turns, her expression largely hidden by her dark sunglasses, but betrayed by the tight curve of her lips. "Then what would you suggest, Mauro?"

"Not sure." His voice is gruff, his shoulders squared. Next to Roz, I notice Catalina's eyebrows knit. "But not that."

"Roz?" she asks, turning once more and crossing her arms. "You're the genius behind all of this. What are your thoughts?"

"I.... I can see it both ways, honestly. This isn't my primary medium." Her eyes dart to the side—over Ottilie's shoulder, her gaze catches mine. "Marcie, what do you think? You know Mary front-to-back, from a fan and a consumer's perspective."

Everyone turns to look at me. I have to try not to shrink back, even though I probably should. These people are famous creatives, frontrunners and game changers and household names. My book hasn't even come out yet. I'm no one. Just Roz's nerdy little girlfriend.

"Oh. Um." My face and neck feel hot. It's the summer sun, I tell myself, even though it's hardly warm. "To clarify, at the moment, she just rubs Chris' back while he pukes, then drowns him? Like in the book?"

"Yes." Ottilie's voice is sharp, a stark contrast to her suddenly too-sweet smile. "Doesn't that feel jarring to you, Marcella?"

"Well, no." My response is immediate. Like, does she not get the book? "I think Mary shows her humanity in other ways. But if you want that moment of hesitation, instead of having her start to drown him, then leave, why not have her pull his head out of the water, look at his face, and then basically put him back in?"

"There's more to her walking out than just hesitation," Ottilie says. "It gives her time to contemplate her own humanity."

"Mary doesn't contemplate her humanity." My voice is flat. "She doesn't see herself as human anymore. She died when Rachel was abused and murdered. She's some justice-exacting force, in her sister's name. In the book, she never once thinks about what she's going to do after she avenges Rachel. I mean, we see her setting things up for herself, like doing well in school and applying to internships, but she does other things to seem 'normal' while going on a Sudden Impact revenge spree."

Ada adjusts her cap. "So she pulls his head out and just looks at him? Then puts him back?"

My skin is crawling. Everything is hot and small and weird and ugly. "I mean, you don't even have to do that much. I think my main issue with her leaving the room and then coming back makes it seem like she doesn't want to kill this guy. Which she most definitely does. Right, Roz?"

I know I'm right, but when Roz nods, I feel a little more emboldened.

"Her leaving the room and coming back to finish what she started makes it seem like she's trapped, or that she's in too deep to stop now. That isn't Mary's story. She's, like, the embodiment of an eye for an eye, in a teenage girl's body."

"Well, I disagree, Marcella," Ottilie says. "In the book, in this scene—"

"In the book, Ottilie,"—I'm cutting off Ottilie Le Blanc she is going to rip my head off and eat it I am so dead—"Mary does it. She just kills him, without so much as a second thought. Then she washes the disgusting mix of puke and toilet bowl water off of her hands, and she escapes through the bathroom window. In the book, she catches his reflection in the mirror and looks away. That's the glimpse of humanity you're probably looking for."

"So do we do the lifting his head out of the toilet or not?" Ada says. "Roz? Mauro?"

Mauro clears his throat once, then twice. "Marcie, do you think she looks at him when she pulls him out, or does she look straight ahead?"

I pause. Then: "She looks straight ahead. She's not debating anything because of, or for, him. More like a moment where she's started to disassociate and needs to take a second to rein herself back in and get it done."

He nods. "I agree. Roz?"

"Looks like Chris gets to take a breather," she says, her smile timid. "We can talk more about making that quick look back in the mirror more emphasized."

"Good. Great. Grand. Wonderful." Ada claps her hands together. "Hope that's good enough for you, Ottilie. Now let's get you to calculus."

Ottilie curls her lip at me—so brief, I barely catch it—then stalks off across the lawn, Dr. Charm in tow. Ada sticks behind next to Roz, positioning her hands on her hips.

"She's a great actress," she says, her eyes trailing Ottilie until she disappears inside the nearest building, "but a complete and total pain in the ass."

Roz doesn't say anything, but Catalina says, "Yeah, we've noticed."

"If she wasn't the best, she wouldn't be here." Ada rubs the hooked bridge of her nose tiredly. "I just need to keep telling myself that."

"She has a great reputation," Mauro says. "I thought she'd be easier to work with."

"She's been easy. She just thinks she knows your books better than you do, Roz. It's a bit obnoxious. I'm glad we'll have you closer by to help settle any random things she decides to dredge up."

Roz catches my eye. "Yeah," she says, "me too."

And then she smiles softly, and I know it's just for me.