“We don’t, I guess. It just feels more natural to say, so until further notice, it’s a she.” I sigh. “And honestly, the nerve of that Little Birdie. It’s like she’s desperate for news. And if you’re going to post something, like, at least make ittrue. Am I right?”
“Relax,” Rue says. “Idon’t believe anything Little Birdie says. I never have.”
A weight disappears from my stomach. “Really?”
“Of course not.” She takes a bite of her salad, swallows, and dabs her mouth with a napkin. “One time, in middle school, she said I let my pet rat loose in the hallways. I’ve never owned a pet rat in my life.”
I laugh. A group of freshmen passes by our lunch table. A few of them walk extra slow so they can get a good look at us, and one of them takes out his phone and points it at me.
“Are you…taking a picture of me?” I sputter.
Carlton swats the hand holding the camera away. “Get lost.”
They disappear, but I’m still gaping in my seat. Being featured by Little Birdiefeels how I’d imagine being a celebrity in tabloids feels. Like a violation of privacy. It would probably be worse, though, if Little Birdie was actually writing the truth.
Under our table, Carlton reaches for my hand. “I can’t help but wonder, though,” he murmurs, playing with my fingers, “Whydidyou get the lead role? You know. If what Little Birdie said about you and Zayne having sizzling chemistry isn’t true?”
“Um,” I stammer. I look at Mabel for help, but she shrugs. “I have no idea.” I’m about to say something that will hopefully change the subject, but Zayne Silverman chooses that precise moment to walk by, place a small piece of paper in my other hand on the table, and say to me in passing, “Don’t forget. My house, after school at five.” I stare at my hand. The paper he handed me has his address written on it. I shove it in my pocket, face burning.
Carlton stares at me. And so does Rue. And Mabel. And Meredith.
“That was really bad timing,” I tell them with a nervous chuckle. “He just wants to run lines after school. But I’m not going.” I don’t know why I add that last part. It isn’t true.
Carlton slowly drops my hand and stares at me for a long moment. There’s a hardness to his expression that wasn’t there a minute ago. “Right.”
The group falls into an awkward silence. This is all becoming too much. I need to get away for a moment to clear my head. “I’ll be right back,” I say to none of them in particular. I’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment, under their scrutiny. If only Mom were here. It’s her I need to talk to right now. I break away from the three of them and head to the parking lot. On my way, I attract the attention of a group of girls I’ve never seen before.
“Hi, Dot!” One of them waves at me.
I wave back. The fake smile I’m wearing feels much too heavy.
I burst through the giant oak doors leading outside. The crisp, autumn air stings my bare knees. The transition from summer to fall in Massachusetts has practically been nonexistent. I rub my arms, the friction from my skin against my cardigan warming me.
When I reach my car, I grab the handle, but don’t open the door right away. I catch sight of my reflection in the car window, and I can’t help but stare. My eyes are shining with unshed tears, my mouth curved downward, little puffs of air visible when I exhale.
If I’d known what kind of pressure joining the play would put me under, I never would have auditioned. All I wanted to do was fit in with my new friends and get Carlton to like me as much as I like him. But now, it feels like everything is blowing up in my face. I’m more tempted to quit than ever, but Ihaveto stay in the play to prove everyone wrong. Especially Zayne. The whole school watching me now is just the cherry on top. I’m living every new kid’s nightmare.
I just hope I wake up soon.
Chapter Five
I decide to skip the rest of the day. What good will it do me to stay at school if I can’t even focus? I need to get my head on straight before I have to run lines with Zayne this evening.
When I get home, I go straight to my room. Beau is still at school and Dad is at work, so I could sit in the living room and watch TV. I could heat up a frozen chicken pot pie and stuff my face while I stare at the pretty flower arrangement in the center of our dining table, freshly picked by Dad.
But to be honest, I just feel like hiding.
From no one. From everyone. From myself.
At least until five, when I’ll inevitably have to see Zayne.
There’s got to be a way for me to somehow pull all this off: getting Carlton to like me again. Staying in his circle. Getting the attention of that admissions director, Nigel Weathers, to prove Zayne wrong. Not making a complete fool of myself in front of the entire school now that Little Birdie has it out for me.
All of this may have been plopped into my lap, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere, so I better get started.
I open my script and flip through it, testing some of my lines aloud. I can’t ignore the dread in my stomach when I hear myselftalk, when I hear myself act. I just don’t have the emotion my friends so easily deliver. My voice sounds stiff and…scripted.
Still, I continue, throwing in some hand gestures and facial expressions for better effect. I scoot over on my bed until I can see myself in the round mirror attached to my vanity, and then I keep reading. I watch my expressions as I utter my lines and adjust them to match the tone of my dialogue.
