Kissing the Player - Maggie Dallen Page 0,1

out who would be their primary competition. That kept them busy until a tall blonde in the aisle next to them hovered a little too long.

Layne nudged Lola who looked to Rose.

“Poor thing,” Rose said. “She looks lost.”

“I can fix that.” Lola turned toward the blonde. “Hey, you!” she called out.

When the blonde looked over, brows arched in alarm, Rose chimed in with a big welcoming smile. “Come sit with us.”

“Oh. Are you . . . Um, are you sure?” She smoothed a hand over her perfect bun.

“Of course. We’re not gonna bite. I’m Lola Rey,” she said before sticking out her hand.

“Lillian Preston,” the girl murmured.

Layne moved her bag so the girl could sit and the three of them watched her fidget with the hem of her skirt before tipping her head down to read the rules and guidelines on the handout.

“What’s your talent?” Rose asked.

Lillian’s head snapped up. “I’m a prima ballerina.”

Layne laughed to herself as once again Rose and Lola seemed to soften, their smiles became even more welcoming. “Are you new to the competition circuit?” Lola asked. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I don’t compete much,” she said.

“Well, you’re in luck, because between the three of us, we can fill you in on your competition,” Rose said.

Lola gestured around the auditorium like a tour director as she pointed people out. “Everyone in this room has some level of talent and definitely a lot of drive. But some are more of a threat than others.”

Rose’s gaze fixed on a familiar brunette who slid into a seat in the row ahead, not deigning to glance around her, as though she were totally alone in the crowded room. Rose’s voice was a little too loud as she spoke. “And then there are some who you need to watch out for. They’re so competitive they make Tonya Harding look like an angel.”

Layne sank down in her seat as Jenna turned around to stare them down. Clearly she’d recognized herself in that description and didn’t see the need to deny it. If anything, she was probably proud. The girl had a reputation as the ice queen for a reason.

Jenna’s sneer was halfhearted when she saw Rose, but it intensified to a glare when she spotted Lola. “Oh, it’s you.” Jenna sniffed. “I suppose you think you actually stand a shot at taking first in singing, right?” Her smile was cold as ice. “How cute.”

“Good to see you again, too, Jenna,” Lola said in an obnoxiously chipper voice.

Jenna didn’t reply, her gaze shifting to Layne, then dismissing her in a heartbeat. She paused on Lillian. “Who’s this?”

Rose glanced over and saw Lillian staring back with wide eyes, clearly not used to dealing with witches like Jenna on a regular basis.

“Leave her be, Jenna. She’s a dancer,” Rose said.

Jenna’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “Then break a leg, I guess.”

“Gee, thanks,” Lillian muttered, making Layne stifle a laugh beside her.

Jenna had half a mind to make a snide comment about why Layne was even here to begin with—she definitely didn’t belong. But their conversation ended when the same organizer who’d handed out the guidelines cleared her throat at the podium on stage and welcomed them.

What followed was basically a boring rundown of what they could easily have read for themselves.

Northeast Regional Scholarship for the Dramatic Arts, the pamphlet read. Underneath that there were basic requirements. Must be a high school senior, with a certain grade point average and blah blah blah.

This year they were introducing a new category that would reward the person who best contributed to the arts in their community.

Jenna scoffed. Pass. That one was definitely not for her. She was no do-gooder. Not that she was as cold as people made her out to be, but still. Who had time to worry about the community when she had a dream to pursue?

Other than the new category, the rest were the same as they had been every other year since this regional scholarship competition had come about. The categories were listed along with the requirements for each.

• Dance

• Instruments

• Vocals

• Acting

She heard Rose laugh behind her and turned around to glare. She was trying to listen here. Or she would be when they got to the singing part of the competition—the only one that mattered.

Rose held up her handout and pointed to the categories. “Check it out,” she said in a stage whisper that had every student sitting in a three row radius looking over at her. “The first letters of the categories