“Well, like you said,” he states. “You hardly tried. Maybe put in some effort next time.”
My heart sinks. He’s right. Why didn’t I try harder? Why did I think I wouldn’t have to? “Everyone else makes it seem soeasy,” I explain. “Acting, I mean. But it’s harder than I thought.”
“That’s your problem, Dot. You’re capable of so much, but you never really apply yourself.” He lowers his voice, and the bitter note is impossible to miss. “Some of us actually do try, and it doesn’t work out.”
Could he be referring to my lack of extracurriculars, when I’ve told him about my plans to apply to such prestigious universities? Or the way I groan aloud every time I have to study? How I willingly fall asleep in classes that bore me?
Carlton is lucky he doesn’t have my problem. At least he’s passionate about the path he’s pursuing.
And then the last part of his sentence registers with me for the first time.Some of us actually do try, and it doesn’t work out.
“That’s right,” I say, feeling like the most selfish person alive. “I forgot what happened with Zayne.”
“Of course you did,” he mutters. Almost like he doesn’t want me to hear it. And then louder, he says, “It’s fine. Hey, I gotta go. See you at school tomorrow?”
My lips part. I hurt his feelings. “Carlton—” But he hangs up.
He’s just stressed about his bad audition, at the possibility of losing his chance of being noticed by Nigel Weathers,I tell myself.That’s all this is.
I stare at my pastel yellow bedroom walls. At my fuzzy white rug. At my cozy, amber bedding. At anything, I realize, other than my round vanity mirror, so I won’t have to look at myself.
This is all Zayne Silverman’s fault. If it weren’t for him meddling with Carlton’s script, none of this would be happening. Carlton’s chances of getting into his dream school wouldn’t even be a question. He wouldn’t be so angry and he wouldn’t be lashing out at me.
I can’t help but feel like I must have done something wrong. Maybe it’s my lack of socialization, all those years spent with no one but Beau, and Dad as our teacher, instead of learning how to navigate tricky social situations like these.
I’ll have to fix this somehow. I’ll find a way to prove to Carlton I’m not as self-centered as he thinks.
I click the link Rue sent me and download Little Birdie’s app. And I don’t forget to turn the notification alert on.
Chapter Three
School doesn’t disappoint the next day—it passes quickly and uneventfully. That is, until I get to the drama room after sixth period. Rue is poised outside the door, ankles crossed and texting. When she sees me, she waves. “Hey, Dot.”
I smile. “Hi.” My senses are a bundle of nerves because this is technically my first official theater meeting.Is that what they’re called? Meetings?“Who are you waiting for?”
“Anyone.” Rue flicks her fingers at the air vaguely. “Whoever gets here first. And that’s you.” She pushes off the side of the corridor, pleated skirt swooshing with the movement. “Shall we enter?” She waggles her brows dramatically, earning a laugh from me.
When we walk through the heavy door, there are two rows of chairs lined up at the front of the classroom.
“Oh, no,” Rue mutters.
I wait for her to elaborate, but she just hangs her head and leads us to a group of empty desks. Soon after, Carlton and the twins shuffle in and sit next to us. Carlton sits on my other side, and I note the way he smiles at me. Like I’m the only one in the room he notices. Like our conversation last night never happened. Some of the tension in my shoulders eases.
The room buzzes with conversation until Mr. Saltzman emerges from the room with the adjoining door.
“We’re doing the character bus today, everyone.” He claps his hands together to hush the collective mix of squeals and groans that follow. “Who wants to be the driver?”
“I will,” says a short, blond girl near the front of the classroom. She practically beelines from where she’s sitting and plops into the first chair in the line of seats Mr. Saltzman has arranged. There’s a gleam in her eyes and her full cheeks lift in excitement.
Mr. Saltzman nods at her. “Thank you for volunteering, Joy.” Turning back to the class, he adds, “I want Hayden, Danielle, Carlton, Leighton, and Rue to be the passengers.”
Carlton straightens his spine and Rue mutters, “Wonderful.” She and Carlton stand up and head to the front of the class to line up with the other chosen students.
“For those of you who are new,” Mr. Saltzman continues, “the driver of the bus will take on the personality of each new passenger, and so will any passengers on the bus. So, get ready.” Turning to Joy, he asks, “Where is the bus headed?”
“To Manchester,” she replies with a grin.
“Then let the show begin.” Mr. Saltzman cracks his knuckles and backs away, a pleased smile on his face. A short boy wearing a leather jacket over his uniform is first in line. He approaches Joy.
