Kissing the Player - Maggie Dallen Page 0,5

said with a totally unapologetic grin. She leaned forward so her elbows were on the cafeteria table. “What were you saying? What did I miss?”

“Only that my life as I know it is over,” I said.

“Oh, that’s all?” she teased. “What happened this time? You missed another Nordstrom online sale?”

“Worse,” I said, jabbing my spoon into my yogurt. “I found out that Monica Jefferson is doing the same contemporary monologue as me.”

She pursed her lips for a second as she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Am I supposed to know who Monica Jefferson is? Do we hate her?”

I sighed. “No. That’s not the point. The point is, someone else will be performing my monologue at the scholarship competition, which means I have to find a new one and start rehearsing from scratch.”

“How do you know?”

I blinked. “What?”

Hannah picked up her previously forgotten sandwich. “How do you know what monologue she’s doing?”

“You are so missing the point here,” I muttered. When she still eyed me expectantly, I explained. “There’s a Facebook page for the organizers and students who are competing in the Northeast Regional competition. Someone started a thread about how long the monologues need to be and Monica-freakin’-Jefferson told everyone that she was using Louisa’s speech from The Fantasticks.”

Hannah just stared at me as if waiting for more.

I dropped my spoon with a clang. “This is a disaster, Hannah!”

Her lips twitched with amusement the way they always did when I was having a freakout over something she deemed unworthy of freakouts.

Which was pretty much everything.

Hannah was chill like that. Unless the topic was soccer, she never really got worked up. She barely even cried when her long-term boyfriend dumped her via text last year.

I, on the other hand, could get riled over just about anything. Some people claimed this made me melodramatic. I knew it just meant that I was an actress, thank you very much.

“Rose, you still have…” She held up her fingers and silently ticked off months. “A solid six months to find a new monologue.”

“No, I have six months to choose, memorize, rehearse, and perfect a new monologue,” I said. “And on top of that, I still have to work on the classical one.” I arched my brows. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to master Shakespeare?”

Hannah gave me a regretful grimace. “I really don’t.”

“It’s hard,” I said, picking up my spoon to snag another bite before the bell rang. “Take my word for it.”

“I believe you,” she said. “But you’re the best actress in the school.” Her smile was sweetly encouraging. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

I gave a little huff of amusement. Hannah was seriously the best bestie anyone could hope for. Having her in your corner was like having your very own pep squad.

“What’s this really about?” she asked.

I toyed with my spoon, trailing it along the edge of the container to get the last bite. “It just threw me off, that’s all.”

Hannah stayed silent. Ugh. Sometimes she knew me too well.

I sighed as I met her unwavering stare. “Okay, fine, maybe I’m overreacting—”

“You think?” she said mildly.

“But it’s just that…I have to win.” I looked down at the table. I wasn’t sure how else to put it so she’d understand. Hannah didn’t really understand my desire for fame, my need to be a big star…but she did understand winning. On the soccer field she was as competitive as they came.

This wasn’t exactly the same thing. I mean, I wasn’t all that competitive with the other girls—I didn’t even know most of them. But if I got this scholarship, it meant something.

It would mean that I was good.

That I was the best.

It would mean that my mom and her passive aggressive put-downs could go suck it because I had talent.

I shoved the spoon in my mouth as Hannah studied me. Her brows drew down as she frowned. “You’re worried you won’t win.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Duh. Of course that’s why I’m nervous.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t think you’re a good enough actress?”

I stiffened. “I didn’t say that. Of course I’m good.” I meant to stop talking, but sometimes when Hannah just sat there watching me like this—all quiet and sincere—words just tumbled out. “But everyone competing for these scholarships is good. Every actress performing at the competition is the best in her school. I can’t just be good…I have to be the best.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Hannah nodded slowly. “It’s a lot of pressure. I guess… If