I hold my arms out.
Rue narrows her eyes. “What?”
“Come here.”
“For what?”
“Because,” I say under my breath, “my teammates are all watching and you came to see me after practice like the world’s cutest girlfriend.”
She blushes so hard I almost laugh. Then she steps right in and lets me wrap my arms around her. My body goes tight for one stupid second. Not because this is new, but because every time I touch her lately, it feels less fake than the time before. I hear Tucker make a gagging noise somewhere behind me.
Rue pats my back twice, like she’s rewarding a dog. “Okay,” she mutters in my ear. “Enough.”
I let her go, but not before dropping my hand to the small of her back and steering her toward the hallway.
Once we’re out of earshot, she glances sideways at me. “Your teammates are weird.”
I laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
“And one of them called you mushroom-boy.”
I groan. “You heard that? Great.”
Rue giggles. “Oh, stop. They’re the weird ones, not you. Remember?”
I look at her.
She shrugs, adjusting the binder against her chest. “I like that you’re not afraid to go after what you like, regardless of what people will think.”
The words hit hard. This is exactly what I mean when I think nobody else really gets me. Rue says things that land in the exact center of me.
I take the binder from her arms without asking. “This thing is huge. Is it really all notes for the show?”
“For the train wreck, yes.”
We make our way across campus toward the theater. The late afternoon air is cool enough to wake me up a little. When we reach the auditorium, Rue pauses before we go in.
“What?” I ask.
She hesitates, then says, “Can I tell you something without you making fun of me?”
“Maybe.”
She glares.
I lift a hand. “Fine. No making fun of you. Go.”
Rue exhales slowly. “I don’t miss being onstage as much as I thought I would.”
That gets my full attention.
She looks down at the binder in my arms, then at the dark auditorium doors ahead of us. “I mean, I still love acting, but being in the sound booth…” She shakes her head a little, like she’s surprising herself. “I don’t know. It’s different. I feel calmer up there. More useful, maybe. Like I can actually see the whole story instead of just one part of it. And it’s weird, because I always thought the stage was the one place I came alive. But I think I like helping shape everything behind the scenes more.”
A grin spreads across my face.
Rue notices immediately and frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because,” I say, pushing open the door for her, “that’s the most Rue Sullivan thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
