drama director shuffles up the aisle, her black sheath dress hugging her full figure, and takes a seat a few rows behind Carly and the others.
She pushes her purple glasses up her nose expectantly, eyes narrowed on the stage.
When the music starts again, I will myself to focus on my performance. To be a mermaid far away from the catty comments of bitchy schoolgirls who wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with themselves if they ran out of people to torture.
But when I see Carly unscrew the top of my water and tip a tiny brown bottle to pour something inside, my voice wavers.
“Stop! Annie, I thought we had this section,” Miss Norelli calls from her seat a few rows back.
Frustration flows through me. “We do. We did.”
“Why don’t we try it with the understudy?” Carly smiles as if the idea just popped into her head.
“Good idea.” Norelli folds her arms, and I swallow the anger as I trade places with Carly, who holds out her hand expectantly.
I shove the spoon into her hand before flipping her off. “Wash it when you’re done.”
I step out of my garbage bag and retrieve my water bottle, sniffing it before shoving the thing back in my bag.
“That part never should’ve been yours,” Lana, one of Carly’s minions, whispers. “The only reason Norelli picked you is because your dad’s a rock star. There’s no way you got his talent.”
“Carly’s still the understudy,” Tara, the other minion, points out. “A lot can happen in five weeks.”
“Shut it, Flotsam and Jetsam.” They should’ve been Ursula’s eels, not Ariel’s sisters.
Watching Carly perform, I wish she sucked, but she’s actually good.
“That’s enough rehearsal today,” Miss Norelli says when Carly finishes. “Annie, a moment.”
I get up and cross to her seat.
“Where’s the girl from auditions? The fearless one, the focused one.”
I shake my head. “She’s here. I swear.”
She sighs. “We’re running out of time.”
It was my decision to audition for the lead in the school musical and cross our school’s reigning queen, but what even Carly doesn’t know—what she can’t know—is how much I need this role.
This year, everything is going to change for me. I feel it the way you feel spring in the air before anything blooms.
I cling to that conviction as I head to the front of the auditorium to pack up my things.
“Hey, princess.”
I glance up to see Kellan Albright, a senior, standing over me. With his perfect dirty-blond hair and bright-white smile, he’s athletic and has a decent voice. It’s a curse for the rest of us because he landed the male lead and begged out of almost half of rehearsals for sports.
Of course, if any of the girls missed that many rehearsals, we’d get cut. But it’s hard to find guys who’re both willing and capable of doing the part.
“Look forward to seeing you at the party this weekend.”
“The mid-production cast party? Canceled,” Jenna offers with a look toward Carly and her minions. “Carly’s solarium is getting renovated, and her parents won’t have people over until it’s finished.”
“What about your place?” Kellan’s blue eyes dance.
If looks could melt skin, mine would be peeling off from the evil stares of Carly and her minions, and I swallow an incredulous laugh. “As much as we’re all BFFs, that’s as appealing as waxing my eyebrows off.”
He laughs as I head for the doors, falling into step next to me.
“I know I’ve been busy with practice, but we should rehearse together. Maybe at the party.” He squeezes my arm before holding the door for me.
“Maybe.”
I pass him and head to my locker to grab my books and sunglasses, the feel of his touch lingering on my bare skin.
Kellan’s attractive, and a lot of girls would love his attention, but he’s not my type. He’s sports and parties and being seen. But right now, I’ll take my allies where I can get them.
I pull out a pen and lift the front hem of my skirt to write a single word on my thigh in blue ink, then I shut my locker and head for the main doors.
If I’d thought Oakwood Prep would be simpler than the public school I attended most of my childhood, I was wrong. It’s full of people with too much money and too many expectations and too many liposuction.
If I could go back to public school, go back to being normal… I’d take it in a hot second.
Because the difference between them and me is I grew up with less than nothing