“Oh, everyone knows that. Don’t worry about it.”
Dr. L has a much higher opinion of the senior actors than I do.
“But Liam’s not used to this, and if people are going to be terrible to him—”
“Jesus was misunderstood and persecuted in his time too.” She hands back my phone. “I think you underestimate the actors. I’m sure they’re going to welcome Liam with open arms. But even if they don’t, he can always use it for the role.”
Liam doesn’t deserve that.
No one deserves that.
Dr. L looks up toward the ceiling. “Oh. Warning bell. You’d better get to class.”
8
After last bell, I fight the tide down to the Main Theatre. There’s always lots to do on the first day of rehearsals. I clear off the stage, then start pulling folding chairs off the rack. Dr. L always starts with a full read-through, and she likes for everyone—from leads down to chorus—to sit in a big circle onstage, totake in the performance space.
I count out the chairs, adjust the spacing (it ends up being more of an oval than a circle), then head to the stage manager station to bring up a stage wash. The backstage doors open and Liam comes in, arms full of scripts.
“Oh. Hey.” I rush over to take them from him. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Did I make it in time to actually help?”
I shrug and try not to smile. None of the actors have ever actually offered to help me before. I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Thanks again for the shmoodie. I love pineapple.”
“Good.” Today’s were pineapple and vanilla Greek yogurt. After fixing the cast list, I barely had time to throw the shmoodies at Liam and Bowie on my way to first period.
I look over the pile of librettos; they’re rented from the rights company, and we have to return them at the end of the production.Each has a character name stamped on it. I go around the circle, starting with the leads together at upstage center, leaving two seats empty for me and Dr. Lochley.
“Is there a somethingsomething?” Liam asks.
I look up and shake my head. “Say again?”
“Is there a method to the madness?”
“Not really, just try to keep groups together, like Apostles and stuff.”
Liam nods and holds out his hand; I give him a stack of various Romans to lay out. But he doesn’t move.
“Everything okay?”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down; his eyes flit to mine and then away.
“Thank you for what you did this morning. With the cast list.” He blushes, pink cutting a sharp line along his cheekbones.
“Oh.” My own cheeks start heating. I scratch my nose. “It’s nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing to me.”
“How’d you find out about that anyway?”
“Dr. L told me.” He grips the scripts tighter, the little tendons on his hands flexing. “She said she wanted to make sure I knew I was welcomed in the department.”
I try not to frown, but I can feel my nostrils flaring. The whole point of me taking it down early was so Liam wouldn’t know. All I can think to say is “Sorry.”
Liam looks right at me, his blue eyes wide and open, and even though there’s only a general wash on the stage, I feel like I’m stuck in a spotlight. His gaze is way too intense. It’s like Cam’s puppy-dog eyes but ten times worse, because behind Cam’s lookthere’s always the sense that he wants something. But Liam’s sharing something instead. Something small and vulnerable.
