False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,20

spent most of my time with. On the flip side, she probably enjoyed coming home to someone who wasn’t as extra as most of the drama students were.

She dramatically threw a stapled booklet onto the floor. “Othello! Can you believe it? It’s finally my senior year, and the stupid director chooses Othello of all things.”

Every fall, the drama department put on a Shakespearean play for local high schools.

“What’s wrong with Othello?” I vaguely remembered it from my senior year of high school, and I didn’t see any reason for her to be disappointed. Besides, all the tragedies were more or less the same—there were long speeches in which the characters contemplated the meaning of life, and then everyone died at the end. I knew better than to share that helpful bit of analysis with Lucy, though.

“Give me a character with some agency, for eff’s sake. Desdemona just lets herself be killed,” Lucy huffed. “I’d much rather be Lady Macbeth. Now she’s a badass. Crazy but a badass.”

“You’d make a good Lady Macbeth.” Lucy would be good in whatever part she played, but she had a particular knack for playing characters that were off their rockers. Again, I knew better than to say that last bit out loud.

“I know, right? Thank you. I knew you would understand.”

“Hopefully, the spring show will be better.”

“It will be a musical, so there’s that at least.”

I hadn’t been a huge fan of musicals until I met Lucy, but now I was hooked. I’d been to every one of her plays and had even gone with her to Roanoke to see Wicked.

“So…” I said slowly. “I’m putting in an application for the homecoming court.”

Lucy squealed. “That’s awesome! Is WIE sponsoring you?”

I nodded. Her unfiltered excitement was just the energy I needed. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. Maybe it would be fun. If nothing else, it was a new experience, and that was what college was all about. Or at least that was what my mother said every time I went home. She had never gone to college, so it seemed like she might be living vicariously through me a bit. Too bad for her I was tame.

“My freshman year, the STA had someone on the court. It was cool to actually know someone on it for once.” The STA was the Student Theater Association, which was separate from the drama department. Students didn’t have to be drama majors to participate. Lucy had tried to get me to audition once, and it had taken forever for her to accept that I preferred being in the audience. She didn’t seem to have remembered that tidbit, and I wasn’t going to remind her.

“I might not get in,” I cautioned. I didn’t know how many people applied compared with how many spots there were.

She waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll get in.”

I beamed at her. Her confidence in me was just what I needed. Carson could shove his whole “you’re not girly” rhetoric straight up his ass—his toned, wonderfully squeeze-worthy ass.

***

IT WAS SATURDAY—game day. I applied VVU logos to my cheeks and nodded at my reflection. War paint? Check. It was silly, but I’d worn the temporary tattoos to every game except one. The time I’d forgotten, Carson had had a helmet-to-helmet collision with another player and was taken out of the game for medical observation. He’d turned out to be fine other than being super pissed. After that, I’d bought a lifetime supply of the logos.

Holding the dreaded Othello script in her hands, Lucy was stretched out on the couch, still in her pajamas. While I’d attended every game, she had yet to go to one. She was one of the few people at VVU who didn’t care about football. Even if I weren’t friends with Carson, I would still go. There was something magical about the camaraderie of college football fans.

“Ugh!” she whined. “Desdemona makes me want to barf.”

I chuckled. “She’s not that bad. Didn’t she stand up to her father?”

“Yeah, but she just went from being controlled by one man to another one.”

I couldn’t remember the play well enough to agree or disagree, so I simply murmured my sympathy. I wasn’t meeting Evan and Nicole for another thirty minutes, so I plopped on the couch next to her. No sooner had I done so than there was a knock at the door. I shot Lucy a quizzical look. “Expecting someone?”

“Nope.”

I looked through the peephole then flung the door open. “Roman! What are you doing