He smiles at me in a way that might have excited me before I stopped crushing on him. But now, there’s only one smile that makes me feel like I’ve been zapped by lightning.
Carlton pushes off the lockers and heads toward his next class, and I stand there for a moment, watching his retreating figure disappear into the blur of students. Relief and guilt twist through me like tangled threads. His relationship with Meredith might actually be repairable now, but only because I intervened in a way I never should have had to.
And even though I fixed the symptom, I only did so by lying some more. That knowledge sits like a stone in my chest. Still, it does the trick, and as February shifts into March, Carlton and Meredith’s relationship slowly repairs itself into something much like what it was before. At least, from the outside it seems that way.
Thankfully, that time passes without any drama. On Valentine’s Day,Ezra surprises me at my locker with a giant bouquet of wildflowers. It feels like the entire school watches as he plants a soft kiss on my cheek, and flutters explode across my stomach. Even though he and I never discussed him doing that, I tell myself it’s just him being a good fake boyfriend no matter how much I want to believe he’s starting to think of me in a romantic way for real.
My posts as Little Birdie become reduced to whatever tips end up in the admin inbox, with no extra comment from me. Nothing harmful, and I choose the most boring stories every time.
My group of friends complain more and more about how bad the musical is. It’s validating, and a huge relief to know I’m not the only one who thinks so. But the best part? When I’ve finallyhad enough, I actually take Ezra’s advice and tell Miss Fern what I think is wrong with it.
My hands shake with nerves as I walk to Miss Fern’s office after rehearsal. I try to breathe through the discomfort, and at one point, I even second-guess myself and walk away before turning back, marching to her door and knocking.
At first, she’s defensive, just like I expect, but when I show her the list on my phone, she thoughtfully considers each point I make.
“This is…quite good information, Rue,” she says. “I’ll think about if there’s any way I can incorporate your thoughts this late without it being a major inconvenience to the actors.”
It’s clear she takes at least some of my advice, because over the next month, I notice subtle but impactful changes in the musical from the sound booth. When I point them out to Ezra, he beams at me.
“You did it. I knew you would. And I’m really proud of you, Rue.”
“Thanks.” I grin at him. “I’m just happy this musical is no longer something I’ll have to be embarrassed about. It’s no Mr. Saltzman production, but it’s not half bad now.”
By the time opening week rolls around, Ezra and I haven’t come up with an excuse good enough for Miss Fern to let him stay any longer, but for some reason, she lets it slide. I’d like to think it’s because she’s grateful I helped her show.
When Ezra and I reach the theater on Tuesday, everyone is uptight with the usual opening-week panic. My crewmates rush past me with broken props, and the smell of epoxy fills the air soon after.
Ezra chuckles as Miss Fern rushes past us with the wild eyes of someone probably surviving on caffeine and determination. I nudge him. “Be nice. At least she fixed it.”
The two of us slip into the sound booth, and for a moment it almost feels like all the other rehearsals that have come before this. It’s still just us in here, surrounded by a mess of tangled cords and the hum of the soundboard we’ve practically memorized.
The sound booth hasn’t changed, but Ezra and I have.
I try to focus on my cues and using the correct switches and dials at the right times, but my phone constantly buzzes with a new notification from the Little Birdie app every few minutes. There are so many tips from students wanting to be featured ever since I started sending out the most trivial, low-stakes blasts from those in my inbox. I’m just glad this is my last month as the admin. I quite literally can’t wait for the app to choose someone else.
Ezra pivots in his chair, and his knee bumps mine playfully. “Where do you keep disappearing to in that head of yours?”
I laugh. “Oh, you know. Places.”
The scene onstage switches to Meredith and Carlton’s duet. Ezra adjusts the volume on their mics, grinning with amusement. “This song is so much better now, thanks to you.”
I laugh. “Why, thank you.”
Then, quietly, without looking at me, he says, “I know things are messy with Carlton and Meredith right now, and I know how much you probably still like him. But I just want to make sure you’re not getting hurt again.”
Is that what he’s so worried about? It’s so sweet my eyes sting. “Ez, I haven’t liked Carlton like that for a long time.”
He gives me a doubtful look. “Come on. The guy has your whole friend group wrapped around his finger. Maybe not Dot. At least, not anymore.”
I giggle. “You sound jealous.”
He meets my gaze. “Oh, I’m definitely jealous. He has your attention.” He says it with a massive smile and so much confidence that my chest flutters.
I just shake my head and laugh, completely at a loss for words. I don’t know how to genuinely flirt with Ezra because everything between us has been for show. And before that, we were just friends. “He doesn’t have my attention,” I finally manage to say.
“Then who does?”
We stare at each other. A blush covers my face as he smiles at me. There’s so much eye contact. I don’t know what to do with it. So, I answer his question with a question. “Who do you think deserves it most?”
