Walking in silence, we finally make it to the dorms. Right before we turn to go in, Leslie says, "Are you still mad at me? It was so long ago."
Hell yes, I'm mad.
But it's more than that. I can't extract my feelings about her from the feelings about my parents and the accident. I needed her to help me work through them, and she wasn't there for me. So yes, I'm mad. And sad. And hurt. But I'm not telling her any of that. She doesn't have the right to know.
I just shrug. "Here you go. Amy, this is Leslie. Leslie, this is Amy. Rehearsal starts at eight."
I drop her bags just inside the door and turn around without saying anything else. I don't want to talk about the past. I don't want to talk about ourselves now. I don't want to be around her.
Because whether I want to admit it or not, I can see myself getting sucked back in. The desire's there. But it's taken me so long to move on from those complex feelings. I can't let her derail me on my journey. Not when I'm so close to getting what I want. But as I sit down on my bed and pull out my notebook, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I look over at my nightstand to see the well-worn copy of Oscar Wilde'sThe Importance of Being Earnest. I pick up the book, hurling it across the room.
I flip through the pages of my notebook, reading the lyrics I've written. Looking at the script I've roughed out. It's right there on the page, in black and white.
The careless deception.
Jesus Christ, my whole damn show is about Leslie.
Chapter 9: Leslie
Ithink you're good to go in here for now. You've nailed enough of the basics to make this work. You can't really do much more until you know the music. You need to work with Josh now," Kori says, packing up her notebook. I look at Jasmine, cradling her bandaged hand. "Do you think so? Should I be working with the lyra a little more?"
After I'd figured out some tricks on the silk hammock, we moved onto the aerial hoop. It's supposed to be harder, but it's a lot more static poses. The metal of the hoop is hard, and the front of my legs and sides of my hips are covered with bruises. Jasmine assures me that'll go away, and that the calluses will firm up on my hands. Using copious amounts of chalk helps that. My hands have never looked this pale. They're almost my mom's color. My feet are normally calloused and gross from my pointe shoes, so this is not new to me. I think it'll be easier to sing on the lyra than on the silks, but we're still figuring it out.
Because in the past three days, I haven't worked on the song at all. At least not with Josh.
I've been avoiding him like the plague. And I think he's been avoiding me too.
He says he's not mad at me, but he totally is. He should be. I still am. It's another thing on my long list of failures. Someday, I'm going to need a separate trailer just to haul all my baggage around with me.
"Go find Josh." Kori points to the door. "You'd better catch up with him quickly. The matinee starts at one, so he's usually doing sound checks by noon or so, and it's already ten-thirty."
Jasmine smiles. "This is looking good. You're better than I hoped. Now you need your vocals to be strong. Make sure you focus on your diaphragm. When you're up in the air, all the power has to come from there, otherwise, you'll sound wobbly."
I wander into the music room. Josh is sitting at the piano, staring off into space.
"Hey," I say softly, not wanting to startle him. "Kori says I have to work on my vocals."
He nods and flips the pages of his binder. Without waiting for me to cross the room, he starts on the intro for "Rewrite the Stars."
"Wait, I need to warm up. Someone once told me that my voice is a precious instrument that needs tender care, and that I should never take it from zero to sixty without preparation."
"That person sounds like a pretentious ass."
With my lips pressed tightly together, I grin slightly. "It's still good advice. I wouldn't make you do a split without stretching you first."
"You'd never get me to do a split, not without removing my legs from my body first, so no worries there." He may be giving me a hard time, but he shifts into playing the chords for warmups. Wringing my hands, I take my place at the music stand opposite him. After about fifteen minutes of oohing and aahing and me-may-ma-mo-moo'ing, I'm ready to go.
I think.
"Okay, you're definitely still an alto. We're going to drop you down a register and startat B?3. It should be more comfortable for you there." Josh pulls out a pencil and scribbles something on his music.
"Did Jasmine have to sing it there?"
He looks up. "Everyone sings where they need to be. If we were in the casting process, maybe we'd look for a mezzo rather than an alto. We're just going to make it work for you."
"Am I copping out? I can try it where it's supposed to be. I'll work on it. I'll make it happen."
Josh slams his hand down on the piano. "Jesus, Leslie. Not everything in life is something you have to bulldoze your way through. Sometimes just accept where you are. Which is an alto."
