Page 8 of Can’t Say No

I open my mouth to speak, then close it again and just nod. Clearly, she’s already made up her mind about me, and I don’t care enough to argue.

I’ll do what I always do: I’ll play the part.

Mrs. Crane is no joke, and Caroline wasn’t kidding when she said she ran a tight ship; she’s got the kids running vocal drills, learning music theory, and her specialty choir already producing some impressive harmonies. If she’s this intense on day one, I can’t wait to see her a few weeks in.

Mrs. Crane introduced me as her “new little helper you might have heard of,” which made me giggle. My team insists the fans are scarce lately, though the gawking and whispers from the students make me doubt that. She positioned me in the back of the room in an attempt to keep me inconspicuous, but a two time Teen Choice Award winner in a room full of teenagers is fairly impossible to hide. The moment cell phones were pulled from backpacks, Mrs. Crane shut that shit down fast.

“The next phone I see is mine for the quarter. And you know I mean it.” Her reputation must hold up, because the kids all pocketed their phones without question.

And then she put me to work. She had me trekking all over campus to make copies of sheet music, hunt down students who were lost and, of course, to make her coffee.

By the end of day, I’m exhausted and dreaming of a long afternoon nap when Mrs. Rutledge comes through the choir room door, camera in hand.

A photo op, of course.

“How was your first day, Miss James?” The short lady smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

It’s unnerving.

I flash her an equally fake smile. “It was great! Thank you so much for this opportunity.” My sing-song words float through the empty room, so sugary sweet I almost believe them myself.

Her half-smile instantly drops. “We can cut the crap. The school needs the money, and you need the good press. This is hardly an opportunity for you, it’s a business deal to save your career, and for me to save my school.”

The enthusiasm she showed this morning in front of the other faculty has been replaced with an annoyance that she makes no effort to hide. Crossing the room, she thrusts a pile of sheet music my way. “Here, pose with these. Look busy.”

The all-too-familiar sound of the camera shutter rings out, and I mentally retreat inward, hands busy arranging the music on the table in front of me, smiling up for the camera. I let a few tendrils of hair fall forward and my shoulders sag a touch to sell the image that I’ve worked a long, hard day. It’s all a performance.

Maybe this will work, show the press that I’m not a wild party girl, or an inconsiderate brat, or a washed-up pop star, but that I really am the girl next door the world fell in love with all those years ago.

Play the part, sing the songs, be exactly who everyone needs me to be. Maybe this will work, I repeat to myself, rearranging the stack of papers in my hand in time with the clicking camera.

A wolf whistle slices through my thoughts, and instantly I know who it is. Connor leans against the door frame, a goofy grin on his face. He’s lost his jacket, his white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, and his patterned tie now hangs loosely around his neck.

Despite my better judgement I can’t help but notice that this slightly rumpled, casual version of him is a treat to look at.

He breaks into a slow, condescending clap, and any indecent thoughts I’d never admit to having disappear.

“Excellent work, Delaney. Can’t wait to see how they’ll caption these. ‘Pop Princess Staying Busy at Hometown High School’. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

He earns himself one of my patented, exaggerated eye rolls.

“Mr. Majors, you know Miss James?” Rutledge finally puts the damn camera away and turns towards Connor.

“Oh yeah, Delaney and I go way back. We grew up next door to each other, climbing trees together and all that good stuff, before she got too cool for Ridgecrest and left.”

Our principal doesn’t hear it, but I don’t miss the hurt laced in his words. He says it so flippantly, as if I had a choice in the matter.

He says it like my heart doesn’t ache with sadness, too.

But ten years is a hell of a long time, and somewhere along the way, I stopped longing for the simplicity of Ridgecrest, and replaced that longing with anything else I could sink my teeth into.

And I guess it’s that insatiable hunger that led me right back to the place I was running from.

Rutledge hums out a response. “How fun for y’all to be reunited on this little endeavor.” Her eyes light up with an idea. “Let’s get a shot of the two of you together! I can see it now: Pop Star Reunites with Childhood Friend While Transforming Local Choir Program.”

She stares off, envisioning the article that she correctly assumes will sell.

Connor doesn’t miss a beat and pulls me into a half hug, squeezing me as he says, “Sure thing. Anything to help my Lanie Lou.”