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I clenched my jaw. Maddox was shockingly judgmental about most television shows. He’d always said he “never got into it.” Whatever that meant. And he certainly didn’t like anything that was about normal teenage life. He wanted it to be serious to be good. I really just liked everything. Even if I loved old-timey movies, I still appreciated mainstream success as much as the next person.
“Okay. Well, Henrick offered me an audition for the lead in his next show, called Academy.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the information. “It’s a supernatural school. I’d audition opposite Martin Harper.”
“Are you sure this is real?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Yes. I met Henrick himself. I looked him up, too, and it was definitely the guy I’d met. He said that I was perfect for the role.”
“Have you considered that he just wanted to fuck you?” Maddox said abrasively.
I glowered at him. “Yes, but he didn’t come on to me. He offered me the card and told me to call his secretary.” I jumped once in excitement. “It’s opposite Martin,” I repeated.
Maddox wrinkled his nose again. “You are not using your hall pass.”
I held my hands up in frustration. Maddox and I had jokingly offered each other hall passes for our celebrity crushes. If he ever met Cate Kennedy, he could go for it. And mine had been … Martin Harper. But I’d never thought I’d actually meet him when I said it.
“This isn’t about that, Maddox!” I groaned. “You are being nonsensical. I’m not sleeping with Henrick or Martin. I’m auditioning for a major role. This is amazing. It’s my big break!”
He looked at me as if I’d sprung a second head. “What part of this is a break for you?”
“I have an audition—”
“But you don’t know if you’ll get the role.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You have no information about any of this.”
“So, you think I shouldn’t audition?” I snapped right back.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Wow,” I said in shock. “Thanks.”
“I’m not saying anything about your acting. I’m saying you were offered this on a whim from a man in an alley,” he said condescendingly. “You don’t know what the fuck this entails.” He passed it back to me. “What happened to you wanting to be a serious director?”
“Did you watch my movie?” I demanded.
“Yeah. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“People said it was the worst thing at the festival. I’m not being hard on myself. I’m being realistic.” I gestured to the card again, my voice rising with my irritation. “This is something tangible. Maybe I won’t get the job, but it’s better than a half hour ago, when I had nothing.”
“This is beneath you.”
I reeled back. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Do you really want to be the star of some teen supernatural-school show?”
“Why not?”
“It sounds ridiculous,” he said.
“We’re not all as perfect as the incomparable Maddox Nelson,” I spat back. “I’m not getting a call from Pixar or getting multiple job offers on the spot. Some of us have to compromise to get what we want.”
“This isn’t a compromise on what you want. This is driving off the road and crashing into the side of a cliff. You’re giving up.”
“I’m not giving up.”
“Yes, you are. This is what you do. It gets too hard, and you walk away. You said you wanted to do these incredible films, and the first time it doesn’t work, you’re giving up on it? You’re going to take this stupid job and waste all your potential.”
“So, that’s what you think about me?” I asked as tears came to my eyes.
He thought I ran from hard things. That I couldn’t stick it out. He didn’t even see it for what it was—the best thing that had ever happened to me. I might not get the job, but I couldn’t exactly give up the chance. It was a chance. Just like I’d given to him when he asked me to jump. I hadn’t run away because it was hard. I’d been here, fighting for us, for my future. But he didn’t see it that way. He didn’t see any of it that way.
“Josie, that’s not—”
“You think I waste my potential?” I crossed my arms. “God, you are the most judgmental person on the planet. Do you know that? It must be nice to never have to consider having another dream because you’re such a goddamn genius that you get everything you’ve ever wanted in life.” I sketched him a mocking bow. “Forgive me for forgetting that no matter what I do, nothing can live up to your impossible standards.”
“This has nothing to do with me,” he snarled.
“No? Because it sure feels like it has everything to do with you. What if I want this job? What if I want to act? What if I want this stupid television show that is beneath me?”
