Page 130

“Yes. And it . . . gave me a feeling of being in control.”

I get up and sit down next to her without thinking about it. My hands find hers, and they’re shockingly cold. “You need to talk to someone about this, Susannah. Someone who knows about these things.”

“Yes, probably. Pearson said he could help me find someone.”

“That’s great!”

“I know, right? I just can’t believe he’s letting me keep the part.”

“Did he say why?”

“Not directly. We talked a lot. We also talked about whether I feel pressured because of the performance and whether that’s why I . . . started doing it. But that wasn’t it. This performance is . . . It’s kind of an anchor. Do you know what I mean?”

I nod, and suddenly I have a lump in my throat. “Yes, I think so.”

“I guess he doesn’t want to take that away from me. But I still have to get help. Real help. Otherwise, he might change his mind.”

“Would you get help if things were different? If it weren’t about the role?” I ask cautiously, squeezing her hand. Susannah shrugs indecisively.

“I think so, but I don’t know. But what happened . . . I just collapsed because I wasn’t taking care of myself. That can’t happen again, otherwise—”

“You could seriously hurt yourself if you keep on like that.”

“That’s what Pearson said.” A sheepish smile crosses her face. “He doesn’t want me to throw away my talent and career.”

“None of us want that.”

She withdraws her hand, and mine suddenly feels very empty. “I really thought you’d be happy if I dropped out.”

“I did too,” I admit.

There’s a look of astonishment in her blue eyes as she looks at me. “Then why aren’t you upset now?”

“I don’t know. It’s . . . like I said. I wanted the role for the wrong reasons. Also for the right ones, but the wrong ones were stronger. I wanted to be seen, not to find my place. The role should be a stepping stone, but for me it was always something else. In the end, I don’t think it would make me happier. I’d probably just convince myself that it would. As always.”

Susannah tilts her head. “Something is different about you,” she says.

I blush awkwardly. “Yes. Well, maybe.”

“Why?” Susannah narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last few months,” I say. Part of me wants to tell her about Phoenix, the other part wants to keep the secret to myself a little longer. But Susannah doesn’t give up so easily.

“You’re welcome to be a little more specific.”

“I always thought I had to be perfect to be liked.” I swallow. A different secret, but just as important. “And then you told me you hated me because I was perfect. That hurt.”

“I’m sorry. I was just so angry at the situation.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I can understand that. But I’m not perfect. I’m just very good at pretending to be someone I’m not.” I speak so fast that I almost trip over my words. But I have to get this off my chest, because maybe our friendship has a chance if I can just be myself.

Phoenix sees me, the real me, and he stayed. He didn’t just stay, he fell in love with me. Maybe my friends will like me too when they know who I really am.

“I want . . . I want us to be friends. Real friends who talk to each other and care about each other. Maybe we can start over and be more honest with each other this time. If you want to, that is,” I say, twisting my hands uncertainly.

Susannah hesitates. “Do you think we can do that? I mean, be honest with each other?”

“I hope so,” I reply, smiling unsurely.