“We’ll also need many of you to sign up for the crew. As you must know, there are no small parts in theater. We need plenty of you for design crew, tech, run crew, et cetera.” Miss Fern’s blue eyes light up as she talks about it.
I’ve never, not once, chosen to be part of the crew instead of the cast. But for the first time in my life, I don’t see another option. There’s no way I’m going to embarrass myself with some off-key attempt at singing. And itwouldbe nice to avoid Carlton.
I try to imagine what my friends would think if I chose not to participate at all, but I’m not sure how they would react or what I, as Little Birdie, might be forced to say about it, so I push the thought away for later.
I try to pay attention to what Miss Fern is saying about the play she wrote. And I tell myself the last thing I need is to give Little Birdie something to talk about when it comes to me.Because not posting about myself at all would be as good as admitting to everyone I’m her.
Chapter 7
Ezra
Rue doesn’t return my jacket on Monday. I don’t know what I expect, but after passing her twice in the corridors and her blatantly ignoring me, I can’t deny my ego is a little wounded. It’s not that I need the jacket. If anything, the idea of her keeping it and maybe even wearing it when she gets cold makes me smile like an idiot. But if she’s supposed to be my girlfriend, we should at least interact in passing.
Unless she’s having second thoughts about the plan. I try not to let that possibility get to me, but it’s hard. And throughout the day, I have to keep checking my thoughts so I don’t focus on her. Especially during practice after school.
We have our playoffs coming up in March, and Coach Dresden pulled me aside last week to let me know there will be college scouts present. “I’m gonna need you to play your best game, Davis,” he said. “And I know you’re capable. Don’t disappoint me.”
But before I could even get on the court today, Coach motioned me over to him. “Davis, get over here.”
I blow out an exhausted exhale and stomp toward him. “Yes?”
“Did I make you captain to watch you get in every fight you can?”
“No, sir.”You probably did it because Dad sponsored the school gym renovation.But worry rises in my throat when I recall Tucker’s warning about Coach wanting to punish me for that fight during our game.
He leans his face closer. “Do you want to perform or do you want to play?”
“Play, sir.”
“Well, thanks to the way you’ve been clowning around, you’re about to do both.” He faces the rest of the team and shouts to them, “We’re all going on a little field trip. Follow me.”
All the guys groan as we line up. A few of my teammates frown at me like this was my idea, when Coach is clearly messed up in the head if he’s willing to sacrifice our practice time to teach us some petty lesson.
We follow in a single file line across campus. I wince when I try to think about what we could possibly be forced into, all because I got into a fight, when Coach leads us into the drama club classroom.
Drama club? Is this some kind of joke?
The rest of the team must think so too, because the guys mumble their confusion around me until I shoot them a warning glance from the front of the line. The last thing we need is Coach Dresden getting any more ideas or reasons for them.
“As captain, I hold you to a higher standard, Davis. As for the rest of the team, consider this a warning.” Coach opens the door to the classroom. “If any of ya’ll want to act like clowns, then by all means take center-stage.”
We file into the classroom, which is full of theater students. Immediately, my gaze shifts to where Rue is sitting near the back. She watches us enter the room with wide eyes. I try to imagine what she’s seeing—the entirety of Fallbrook’s basketballteam infringing on her theater space. All fifteen of us towering players. The contrast of the way my team stomps into the room, loud and murmuring, compared to the carefully observant, quiet drama club, kinda feels like being a tornado at a tea party.
And Rue is no exception. She silently shoots daggers at me with her eyes. It’s almost like I never even rescued her from that party Friday night.
“Uh, coach?” I mutter. “What are we doing here?”
But he ignores me and nods at the young teacher standing up here with us. She beams at him and tucks a strand of her honey-colored hair behind her ear. Am I imagining the blush on her cheeks as she smiles at Coach Dresden?
“Thanks for doing this,” she tells the coach. “You have no idea how excited I am.”
Coach shrugs one shoulder, oozing game. “He’s all yours. Don’t let him sucker you, either. Put him through what he deserves.”
She giggles, and Coach Dresden ducks out of the room with nothing more than a salute in our direction. What the heck is happening? Now I’m feeling nervous.
“Please, allow me to introduce myself,” she says. “My name is Miss Fern, and I’m the new drama teacher here at Fallbrook.” Turning back to her own class, she gestures to us and says, “Justin—I mean, Coach Dresden—was nice enough to let me borrow the captain of this amazing group of athletes for the sake of our spring production’s rehearsals.”
Meredith Evans raises her hand. “Um…not to be rude, ma’am, but how does that make any sense?”
