“Depends on what you consider alright,” I mutter. “I’m really tired.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. Leave me alone down here and get your beauty rest. I’ll tell you what happens in the morning.”
“Thanks.” I shuffle my way upstairs. When I sink into my bed, I read Carlton’s message again. It’s weird that he texted me about the post because Little Birdie plainly addressed my crush on him, yet he still hasn’t addressed it himself. It’s like we were tiptoeing around the truth.
Whatever. My crush on him is dead now, so who cares?
I check social media and notice I have a new follower. When I see who it is, I almost hit the “block” button.
ezra_davis followed you.
ezra_davis liked your photo.
I click to see which photo of mine he liked. It’s an old one—Meredith took it while we were studying at Tatte Bakery & Cafe in Boston. I only posted it because she raved about how pretty I looked. And coming from her, that’s not something to ignore. But knowing Ezra was just on my page and scrolled down far enough to find this picture makes me blush. He clearly has no shame, to like such an old photo. Or maybe he’s doing it on purpose, just to mess with me. It wouldn’t be the first time someone did.
With a sigh, I turn off my phone and try my best to sleep.
When school arrives on Monday, I leave Ezra’s jacket at home and do my best to ignore all the stares. Even though the amount of ogling I typically get is much less than poor Dot, Meredith, and Mabel, it still gets to me. Being a drama student used to mean being part of the original LB’s obsession, so I’ve been posted about here and there before. But it wasn’t until the blast about me liking Carlton that I became a main topic on the app. Before that, I’d been able to avoid most of the stares, unlesssomething big happened to Mabel or Meredith and I was ogled simply for hanging out with them.
Thanks to the Carlton blast, I should be used to it by now, but that’s what happens when a wallflower is forced into the light. Instead of blooming, it shrivels up and dies. And right now, I’m in the wilting phase.
I make my way to homeroom, and when I get inside, Meredith is sitting on Carlton’s lap at her desk at the end of the room. She’s whispering something in his ear, and he touches her cheek in response. Seeing them entwined makes me sick, so I look away. Before last night, I would have given anything to be the one entangled with him, for it to have been my face he’s caressing. But now, the thought makes me want to shove him into a wall. I don’t understand how Meredith can fall for his act so easily.
But then again, didn’t I fall for it, too? He’s way too convincing, way too good at making people feel special when they talk to him. I swallow back the tears before they can take over.
My homeroom teacher passes out a flier to a few students, including me, Meredith, and Carlton. When I scan the page, my eyes widen. Apparently, a new drama teacher has finally been hired, just in time to start auditions for Fallbrook’s previously cancelled spring play. I scan the flier, heart racing as I read about Miss Fern, the new teacher, and the new drama club schedule.
The first meeting is tomorrow after school.
I can’t deny that part of me has been worried Fallbrook wouldn’t be able to find a replacement for Mr. Saltzman this late in the school year. I love the art of theater and the creative outlet it offers me, and I’m ready to finally have my moment as the lead, regardless of what’s held me back in the past. Offstage, I’ve always been shy and introverted to the point where it’s almostembarrassing. But on the stage, I have the chance to be how I wish I could in real life.
It’s way easier to pretend to be someone else, to portray someone with this big personality. At least, it’s easier for me to do than to fully step into who I am. I don’t like that I’m quiet. But pretending to be someone who’s not has always been easier than actually changing. Maybe that’s why I’ve never gotten the lead. Because deep down, I’ve never been able to shake the shy girl thing.
Not this time, though. This is going to be my year. I’m going to get the lead and step out of my shell if it’s the last thing I do.
Rue Sullivan is finally done playing it safe.
My classes thankfully pass without any more drama occurring. At lunch, I sit with Dot, Zayne, and Lenny again, and after school, I make my way to the classroom where drama club is always held. It’s strange to be here without Mr. Saltzman. The room smells faintly like dusty curtains and stage makeup, the same way it always did after rehearsals. The old prop shelf is still crammed with plastic swords and crooked picture frames from last year’s play. I can’t help but feel a little offended that he resigned so suddenly, and without telling any of us goodbye. I miss his friendly eyes and the way he’d always rub his balding head when he was deep in thought.
In his place at the front of the classroom is a blonde, late-twenties or early-thirties woman. She beams at me as I enter, like she knows me, and does the same to everyone else as the room fills up. When Carlton, Mabel, and Meredith walk through the door, I avert my gaze to my desk. Dot and Zayne file in and sit next to me, so I shoot them a grateful look.
As people find their seats, I hear a few whispers mentioning my post as Little Birdie. One girl whispers to her friend, “Did you see it? I wonder when Little Birdie will post next.”
Hearing people talk about it makes panic slosh in my stomach.
Our new teacher takes us all in and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Hi, everyone. It’s so nice to meet you. My name is Miss Fern, and I’ll be your new drama teacher.” She turns on the overhead—yes, Fallbrook does things old-school—and a slide pops up with her photo and a bullet-point list of fun facts about her. “As you can see, I’m obsessed with cats. I’m also a recent university graduate who majored in theater with a minor in music composition.”
My attention drifts to Carlton as Miss Fern continues telling us about herself. He’s paying close attention, as usual. The way he’s perched on the edge of his seat, gaze locked on hers, makes a smile tug at my lips. He’s always been so serious about theater, and I know for a fact he’s hoping to get the lead in the spring production. Until now, I’ve been rooting for him and hoping he would too, but after what he said about me? I hope he stumbles over every line of dialogue during his audition.
“I have an exciting production planned for everyone,” Miss Fern continues telling us. “An original musical I wrote myself, in fact. Auditions will be held next week. You’ll need to prepare between eight and sixteen bars of a pop song or of something presently on Broadway.”
My stomach drops.
Wait a minute…it’s a musical? Seriously?
Tears burn the back of my throat, and all my hopes for the lead vanish into thin air. Because I can’t sing, not at all. Fallbrook used to do a musical every other year, but the plays were always more successful. We never did a musical freshman or sophomore year. Why should this year be an exception, when I literally cannot hold a tune?
The rest of the class reacts in groans, squeals, and murmurs. At least I know Meredith and Carlton will be excited. They’re both excellent singers.
