your all at every rehearsal. And you have connections like crazy. A movie credit with Brandon Paul. I mean … you’ll be a lead in no time.” Something about Chrissy’s tone sounded defeated.
“Thanks … I guess.” Bailey wasn’t sure she liked Chrissy’s comments. “I sort of like to think I earned my spot.”
“Well, yeah …” Chrissy uttered a light laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Bailey hoped not. Especially after the rumblings from other cast members that she’d taken the easy road to Broadway, or that her connections were the only reason she was here. Bailey watched Chrissy take a spot in front of the long mirror. “I’ve watched you rehearse the Amber role.” Bailey had wanted to tell her this for a while. “Chrissy, you’re perfect.” The girl who played Amber now was rude and arrogant. She wanted nothing to do with Bailey, and she’d made that clear from the beginning — Francesca’s thoughts on the cast being family or not.
Bailey gave her hair a few light spritzes with the finishing spray. As she did, Chrissy peeled off her sweatshirt and prepared to slip into her dress — a pale blue number with as many pretty bows and matching hair ties as the one Bailey wore. But in a rush Bailey could no longer focus on Chrissy’s dress, or her own costume, or anything but what was suddenly and certainly painfully obvious.
Bailey had noticed this before, but not as dramatically as right now: Chrissy was bone thin. Her shoulders jutted out like balls at the end of a couple of sticks. The ribs across her back all jutted out, and her spine was bruised — probably the result of all the sit-ups Francesca ordered from them each day.
Moving as quickly as she possibly could, Chrissy slipped her dress over her head. “What?” She must’ve caught Bailey looking at her. For the first time since they’d known each other, Chrissy’s tone wasn’t as kind as usual. “Is something wrong?”
“Chrissy …” There was a knowing in Bailey’s tone and in her expression … she could see it in the mirror. She didn’t want to have to spell out the obvious. “Are … are you okay?” Bailey had wondered a time or two whether her new friend might struggle with anorexia. Her dance clothes made it clear that she was too thin. But now there was no denying the obvious. Chrissy had a problem, for sure.
“I’m fine.” She laughed, but it sounded pinched, unnatural. “I’ve had a cold … I get a little underweight.”
Was she kidding? Bailey wanted to scream at her, tell her that she desperately needed help. But instead all she could do was look at Chrissy for a long moment. The girl hid her problem well. Her arms weren’t as thin as her legs, and since the dress she wore on stage had a longer skirt, she had so far danced her way under the radar. Francesca had told them a few times just since Bailey had arrived that eating disorders would destroy a girl’s career as fast as drugs or drinking. “All things in moderation,” Francesca had told them. It was a mantra of sorts when she talked to them about their personal lives. So had she pulled Chrissy aside and urged her to get help? Or were her comments more of a suggestion for the cast, her way of addressing Chrissy’s troubles in a passive manner?
Because Chrissy’s problem was both obvious and dramatic, and Bailey had no idea what to do. If Chrissy wouldn’t admit she needed help, Bailey wasn’t sure she could do anything. She would make a point to talk to her later — maybe after the show. For now she only smiled nervously at her. “I’m here for you … if you want to talk.”
“Thanks.” Chrissy applied her makeup in silence after that.
Bailey finished up first and reported to the green room. There were so many hurting people on the Hairspray cast. Two of the guys were gay, and Bailey had overheard them talking in rehearsals about their partners — both of whom were dying of AIDS. Bailey had a feeling several of the other guys were gay too, but she didn’t ask.
Already one of them had pulled her aside during a rehearsal last week. “Look … everyone’s talking about you. How you’re a Bible fanatic.” His angry tone softened a little. “I’d just like to ask you not to judge us … you know, those of us who are gay. God loves us