“I hear this bus is headed to Manchester.” The boy emphasizes his words with a heavy, clearly fake southern drawl. He yodels a laugh at the end of his statement, and Joy yodels a laugh right back.
“You’re darn tootin’,” she says.
The boy skips to the first available seat behind Joy. “Well cut my cake and call me biscuit. That’s where I’m headed.”
I stifle a giggle, along with several others in the class.
Joy leans back in her chair and pretends to drive with one hand.
The next person in line walks over to Joy, a girl with dark curls and bright red lipstick. She’s crying, actual tears pouring down her cheeks as she wails, “I need to get to Manchester. Is this the bus that can take me? Please.”
Joy doesn’t even hesitate as she, too, begins crying. “I need to get to Manchester, too but I don’t know how to drive.” She covers her mouth with both hands as sobs wrack through her and the passenger who started out with a southern accent wails, “We’re all going to die.”
Then it’s Carlton’s turn. He sings the words, “Hi, I need to ride the bus,” to the tune of the ABCs.
Joy sings back, “Could you take a seat for us?”
Southern Boy sings, “Let us stare up at the sky.”
And Crying Girl sings, “Waving as the birds fly by.”
It’s incredibly impressive. So much so, that I can’t help but feel out of my element. I’m nowhere near as skilled as anyone on the character bus. Not even close.
I sink down in my chair.
The next girl laughs uncontrollably as she speaks, and so does everyone and the bus—and the class, for that matter. Laughter bounces around the room until it’s Rue’s turn. She’s the last passenger on the bus, and she whispers everything she says so quietly, the class can barely hear her. Everyone else on the bus does the same, and when all the seats are filled, the class erupts with a round of applause.
“And that’s how it’s done,” Mr. Saltzman beams.
My gaze sweeps the room, noting all the fellow students who pat Carlton on the back as he makes his way back over, Rue trailing behind him. In fact, almost every gaze in the room is glued to Carlton.
Except one.
I can’t help but stare because, once again, I’m struck by his beauty. His long lashes framing those incredibly warm brown eyes. The way his full lips are downturned into a scowl, making him look like an enraged statue, or a model for a frowning ad, perhaps. Either way, I can’t help but watch Zayne Silverman not watch Carlton. His graceful jaw works as his eyes land on mine from the other side of the classroom.
I look away instantly, cheeks burning.
Carlton doesn’t seem to notice. He returns to his spot next to me and grins, his half-smile lazy and seductive. “What did you think?”
I clear my throat. “That was amazing.” And it’s true. Watching that mini performance was nothing short of inspiring. I tell him the parts that made me laugh. I tell him how impressive his singing voice is, even when matching the tune of a children’s song. I even compliment Rue. “I can’t believe your voice can even get that quiet,” I say.
But what I don’t mention is how insecure I feel now that I’ve seen what improv looks like. I don’t talk about how scary it will be when I inevitably have to perform in front of the class. And I definitely don’t bring up how worried I am that by trying to fit in, all I’ve done is highlight how unlikely that is to ever, ever happen.
“Cast list is posted,” Meredith tells me at school the next day. I’m walking through the hallway to my locker when she practically collides with me. There’s a huge smile plastered across her face.
I grin. “Who did you get cast as?”
“Well, I haven’t checked yet.” She blushes a little and tosses her curly hair over her shoulder. “There weren’t even anycallbacks, which is unusual, but a good sign. It just means that Mr. Saltzman knew exactly who he wanted to play each part. I better have gotten the lead.”
“I’m sure you did. Don’t worry.”
“Me and Mabel auditioned for Catherine Earnshaw and her daughter, Catherine Linton,” continues Meredith. She claps her hands. “Since we’re twins, we’ll look crazy alike as mother and daughter, just like in the book. Golden opportunity, you know? Mr. Saltzman won’t be able to resist.”
I nod along, but I’ve never readWuthering Heightsso I’m not sure what she’s talking about. That part wasn’t mentioned in the detailed summary I skimmed before the audition.
Some Ivy-bound student I am.A surge of dread seizes me at the thought.
Rue finds us by the lockers. “Hey, y’all.” Her hair is in space buns, making her look slightly childish, but in a cute way.
