whispered to each other in chairs and beside vending machines and in halls. For forty hours every word was dire. Heart-breaking and chest-exploding and have-insane-urges-to-punch-the-walls dire. But then the news changed.
From respiratory failure to rest. From infection to recovery. Finally, the doctor’s lips started to twitch toward a smile.
Things weren’t over for Anna. They were far from over. But she was, at least for now, out of those particularly dark woods.
Bree hadn’t seen Chip since he’d made a quiet exit from the waiting room an hour after dropping her off. But she’d thought about him. A lot. Enough to remember something Cass had said she should do.
Bree pushed the covers off her legs and slid off the bed toward the dresser. Her tangled braid fell down her shoulder as she picked up the legal pad. She paused, nibbling the end of her Sharpie while she thought about Chip’s question, then scribbled her reply.
DEPENDS. ARE DOG FENCES INVOLVED?
Bree jerked her head toward the bedside table clock to check the time.
8:00 a.m.
Audition day!
She had one hour.
She taped the paper in the window, grabbed her robe hanging off the closet door, and made for the bathroom.
Energy ripped through her as she turned the cold, then hot, water knobs. She bounced on her toes while she waited for it to start steaming.
Today was the day.
She was ready.
Oh, geez. Was she ready?
Her stomach seized up as she stepped inside and felt the pinpricks of hot water on her skin.
Who was she kidding? Was she ready to stand in line next to Kayleigh and Selena and Birdie and a dozen other girls whose mothers had My daughter tap-dances better than yours bumper stickers since they were three?
For that matter, Stephen and the rest of the cast already knew just how long, and short, her résumé was. She had no doubt he was going to sit in those chairs at the Barter today predisposed to believe she was an easy cut.
“Bree Leake?” Stephen would say, surprised to see her name on the list. He’d lean over to the other judges. “Go ahead and strike her name out now. Can someone get me more coffee?”
Bree gripped the bar of soap so tight it slipped out of her grasp and landed hard on her big toe.
She was doing it again. Beating herself up before the fight had even begun.
“Stop,” she mumbled aloud. “You are capable. You made it into the cast once. You can do this again.”
“That’s right!” Evie said on the other side of the curtain, and Bree jumped. “You are a fierce tap-dancing warrior.”
Bree smiled slightly as she picked up the soap.
“You will take no prisoners today.”
“Okeydokey,” Bree said, lifting her chin and calling over the curtain.
“The stage will be full of those slain by the might of your steely heels.”
“Allllrighty—”
“The blood of—”
Bree pushed the curtain open halfway. “Thank you, Evie. I’m tremendously inspired.”
Ten minutes later Bree toweled her dripping hair as she slipped back into her room, tightening her robe around her waist. She checked Chip’s window before ravaging her drawers to find the proper audition attire. She returned to the bathroom.
Two minutes later she wandered back in to find a better pair of tights. Ticked her eyes to the window. No new sign.
Walked out.
Came back for the hair dryer. Checked the window.
Walked out.
Came back on the premise of wanting her phone to keep an eye on the time, realized she was holding it, checked the window. Walked out.
With hair half blow-dried she rushed to the bedroom and peeked inside, just to see if—
And there it was.
Her stomach flipped to see the new note.
MEET ME AFTER YOUR AUDITION AND MY BID, NO MATTER HOW IT GOES?
Bree pursed her lips to keep the smile at bay.
WHERE?
She threw the old sheet on the ground and taped the new one to the window. After thirty minutes of checking and rechecking, a final spritz of hair spray, and a smoothing of her bun, she dashed into the room one more time to grab her duffel bag and tap shoes.
She slowed as she stepped closer to the window.
Bree’s eyes danced around his room to see if he was still there, then moved back to the sign and let herself fully grin.
WHERE ELSE? HOW ABOUT WHERE WE FIRST MET
She checked her phone. She had about six minutes to get down to the Barter, but she wasn’t about to miss this reply. Hastily she scribbled on the sheet of paper, ripped it off the pad, and pushed it to the window.