While others haven't completely memorized their lines, she doesn't have a note in sight.
I say a little prayer that she will do a good job.
But from the second she says her first line, it's clear that she's better than good. Everyone who has been watching auditions knows it. They stop whispering and watch, drawn in by the ease of which she has become the Cheerleader Bachelorette.
Her voice even sounds different as she speaks in an authentic sounding Texas accent. It's like she's become a different person. Her demeanor, even her face, is softer. I almost start laughing when she puts her hand on her hip. When she does that, it usually means she's mad at me.
But on stage, it shows the character's sassy side.
It's amazing, really.
When she comes off the stage, she's beaming. It's easy to see it's where she belongs. Which considering who her mom is, it shouldn't surprise me, but it does. She's amazing.
She stops and types on her phone and then works her way to the back of the darkened auditorium where I'm sitting.
"Are you trying out?" she whispers as she takes a seat next to me.
"No, I watched Logan and Nick try out earlier. They had to get to the JV game. I decided to stay and watch for a while."
"Shouldn't you be there, too?"
"Cole was the starting receiver, and he got hurt, so I'm filling in for him and will only be playing Varsity for a while."
"That's exciting. Congrats."
I cock my head and study her. "So just who was that up there?"
"What do you mean?" she asks, frowning. "Oh my gosh, did I suck?"
I smile at her and shake my head. "No, you didn't suck. It was like watching a different person. The accent. The way you flipped your hair. And you put your hand on your hip when she was being sassy. You only do that in real life when you're mad. You even held your jaw differently. Like, not as tight as usual and your face looked softer. Sweeter, maybe."
She gives me a dazzling smile. One that lights up the darkened corner we're in. "That's because she's not a bitch like I am."
"You're not a bitch."
"No? But I can play one." She straightens her back, tilts her chin, and looks down upon me. Then she rolls her shoulders forward and looks at me defiantly.
"Damn, you haven't even said anything yet, and I'm already scared," I tease. I study her face. "You know, you have a very expressive face."
"Thank you," she says.
"You belong up there. On stage. You made it look completely effortless, like you're a natural." Now would be the perfect time for her to tell me about her actress mom and her model dad.
But she doesn't.
Why doesn't she?
Instead, she nods her head and whispers so softly, I'm not even sure if she means for me to hear it. "I think it's what I want to do. Like, for a living. Like, if I'm good enough."
I want to pull her into my arms and tell her I know the truth. I want to tell her that I know it's probably hard to follow in her mother's footsteps. Because that would be a lot of pressure, now that I think about it.
"If I didn't need you here to tutor me, I'd suggest you quit school, go to Hollywood, and start auditioning. I'm serious, Keatyn."
"Um, uh, thanks," she stammers, getting unusually tongue-tied. "But I think I need some practice first. Some classes, maybe."
"Well, I know you'll get the part."
"You can't know that. I was the first one to audition for it."
"Why did you pick that role and not the lead?"
"I like how she affects the story, I guess. I like how she has to follow her heart and how she finds true love. How even though the Bad Prince tries to keep her and the Good Prince apart, their love prevails."
I let out a deep growl, some primal urge overcoming me. I want to be her Good Prince.
"I always knew you were a romantic at heart," I say, trying to cover it up.
She changes the subject.
"I've heard it's hard to be an actress. Dealing with the paparazzi. The filming locations. Kissing your cast mates. I can see why Dawson is having a hard time with it."
He's having a hard time with it? Awesome.
I lean closer to her and rest my hand on her knee. "Dawson should be here supporting you. And if he had come, he'd know. It's not you up there." Electric shivers shoot from her leg up my hand, making it hard for me to think straight. "You know, I'd love to watch you walk the red carpet someday."
Her pupils are wide, and she's looking a little crazed.
But then again, my hand is on her knee, and I'm feeling a little crazed myself. There's no denying our chemistry.
"You'll walk the red carpet with me?" she asks, looking confused now.
I smile broadly. "I said I'd watch you walk it, but if you're offering . . ."
"Oh. I, um, just, you know, a hot guy in a black suit is, um, well, it's like the ultimate accessory."
I can't help but grin. "It's agreed then. I'll be your arm candy."
I lean back in my seat and watch the next audition, allowing what I told her time to sink in. When she grabs the key necklace that she's now wearing and slides it back and forth across her chin, I know that she's thinking about me. Or trying not to think about me.
We watch the rest of the auditions in silence.
Friday, September 30th Something to keep.
French My days seem to revolve around waiting for French class. And especially today.
She slides into her desk just before the tardy bell rings.
"Congrats on the play. I told you you'd get the part."
She flips around. "What do you mean?"
"Didn't you hear the cast announcement at lunch?"
"No! I skipped lunch. I was helping your sister with some Social Committee stuff. Well, sorta."
"You're playing the part of the Cheerleader Bachelorette."
She lets out a loud shrill. "Ahhhh!"
Miss Praline goes, "Keatyn?"
She flips toward the front of the class. "I can't help it. I'm so excited!"
I explain, "She just found out she got the role she wanted in the school play."
"Well, that's nice, Miss Monroe," Miss Praline says. "Congratulations."
"I'm excited for you, Keatyn," Annie says. "But I'm even more excited for tomorrow."
She grabs Annie's arm. "Oh, I didn't tell you about tonight, did I? Riley is going to ask Ariela right before the game. We're writing Homecoming? on a football, and he's going to pass it to her during warm-ups."
"Oh, that's so cute!" Annie gushes.
"And she'll be able to keep the football. I kind of wish I had something to keep."
"Me too," Annie says. "Although I do have a screen shot of him asking me. And Maggie took pictures."
I still have the stupid stars, I think.
She spins around. "What ever happened with your stars, Aiden? I keep thinking I'll see someone post them on Facebook."
"What stars?" Annie asks.
I ignore Annie and say in a stern voice, "I don't want to talk about it."
She looks hurt and turns back around.
I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration then lean down and pretend to be interested in doodling.
I pretend not to notice when she sneaks a peek back at me.
A few minutes later, she drops a note over her shoulder.
Why don't you want to talk about it?
Maybe I'm embarrassed about it.
Awwww. Aiden . . . Did she say no?
Not exactly. It just didn't work out.
I'm sorry.
And maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but I have to ask.
What would you have said?
Like if I didn't have a boyfriend or a date already?
Yes, hypothetically. If someone asked you like that, would you have liked it?
If you would have laid next to her on the bed, touched her pinkie, and asked, I think it would have been perfect.
Better than naked chests?
Different than naked chests. The stars were romantic and they must have taken freaking FOREVER to hang up.
They were a pain in the ass. Kinda like the girl.
I probably shouldn't tell you this but Shark told me in detention that you have a crush on someone who doesn't like you back. He said you've been waiting on the dream girl. I'm sorry it's not working out the way you want it to. It sucks to have a crush on someone and not have them like you back.
Note to self: Kill Shark.
But then I reread her comment.
You know how that feels? That surprises me.
Yes, I know how it feels. I crushed on someone for almost two whole years before anything happened between us. Why does that surprise you?
Was it the Keats guy?
Yeah. We were friends before we dated. So, don't give up on her. You know, like if you're not too mad about the stars and stuff. My step dad says sometimes true love takes a bit. So if she really is your dream girl, you shouldn't give up. But I thought the Keats guy was my dream guy.
He isn't.
Or at least he isn't right now. He loved me, but not . . . If that even makes sense.
Don't give up on her? Is she so completely clueless that she doesn't know I'm talking about her? Who does she think my dream girl is? I haven't been with anyone but her all semester.
What didn't he love about you? You seem fairly lovable.
I mean, when you're not annoying.
We're getting off topic here. I'm supposed to be helping you with your dream girl problems.
And I told you that I don't want to talk about it.
So stop asking.