I wave to the other girl, recognizing her from the counter at the Pirate House. Her pale blond hair has purple streaks. Starla smiles and waves back at me. Good. I won’t be too scared to sit with this group.
I miss my friends in Athens terribly. But I don’t miss Caleb. And I don’t think I could go back to high school there, where everyone knows what happened to me. So in a way, I’m kind of glad Grandma had her psychotic episode and we had to move to Savannah. Thank you, Grandma.
From the other side of the aisle, Lucas glances my way, frowns, and turns back to his book.
Fine. I can pretend I don’t know you either, Ass Hat.
“David!” Colton squeals. “What’s up, baby?” We drop into the seats right behind them.
To his credit, my brother doesn’t bat an eyelash. “I had no idea you guys would be here. This is great.”
To my credit, I don’t snort at this blatant lie. At least, I try not to. Blue-hair Girl looks at me as I try to choke back a giggle. “Are you David’s sister?” she asks. “Are you trying out for the play? I think you’d make a great fairy queen. Your hair is gorgeous.”
I can’t help but blush. I’ve always hated my red curls. They never behave like I want them to, no matter what beauty products I buy or which salon I go to. I have hopeless hair. Not gorgeous hair.
“Raine, this is Natalie,” Starla says, introducing us. I give her a grateful smile. “She’s right, Nat. You could be Titania!”
I think I blush again. “I don’t know if I could handle a big part like that. I’m really more interested in working on the costumes.”
Starla rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, honey. If you want to be an actress, you’re going to have to be much more aggressive.”
Do I want to be an actress? I haven’t given it much thought beyond this summer play thing. Starla seems dead serious in her ambition. She is looking up at the ceiling, inspecting the new lighting system. “My pale skin tends to look better under warm-colored gels. I hope they don’t use the blue lights on me.”
“You just need to get out into the sun more,” Raine says. She is inspecting the ceiling too. A plaster medallion decorated with frolicking cherubs floats precariously above our heads. “I heard this theater is haunted,” she says. “I wonder if we’ll see any ghosts.”
Before I can ask what she means by this, Mrs. Green walks onto the stage with a clipboard and makes some announcements about the summer production. “Cell phones off, children. For the first group, let’s get Colton Barnes, Starla Hayes, and Natalie Roman up here,” Mrs. Green says. “Let’s see what you’ve got, people. Start on page five. And remember to speak loudly and clearly!”
But wait, I didn’t put my name down for the auditions. Did I? I open my mouth to protest, to say that’s not why I’m here. But I’m paralyzed.
David pats me on the knee. “Just go ahead and try it. You’ll do great.”
Starla smiles at me as she stands up, but it’s not a friendly smile. “We’re up!”
I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I don’t smile back as I stand up. I’m too nervous.
I pray my stomach will unknot itself by the time I walk to the front of the auditorium. I pray that I won’t do anything stupid, like trip up the stairs.
I haven’t been on a stage since kindergarten, when our class performed The Food Pyramid. (I was the celery.) The stage lights aren’t on, so I can see everyone’s faces in the audience. David sticks his tongue out at me.
I tell myself, this is Shakespeare. You love old poetry. You can do this. And if not, what’s the worst that can happen? No one will die, right?
Of course not, Nat.
And I do okay. Not that I think it’s an Academy Award–winning performance, but I make it through my lines without stumbling and without Mrs. Green having to yell “Louder!” more than once. I even glance up from the script once or twice to look at Starla while I’m reading and gesture with my hand. I hope I get bonus points for the gesturing.
Starla gets points docked for not spitting her gum out.
Colton grins at me flirtatiously. He is a beautiful boy with short black hair and black as night eyes, rimmed with just a hint of eyeliner. He reads well, too, with a wicked English accent.
“Good job, people,” Mrs. Green says. “Next up, let me see Ferris and Raine.” Raine smiles nervously at me as I pass her in the aisle. “Y’all did great!” she whispers.
“Thanks, good luck!” I tell her as I sit back down next to my brother. I’m so glad it’s over.
“You did great, Colton,” he says, ignoring me.
David reads next, with a few of the little girls I saw hanging out near Lucas. The little divas can act rings around my brother, but he does okay. He sits down on the end of the row next to me, as Mrs. Green calls the next group up.
“Would someone be a dear and go get me a Coke?” Colton pulls a dollar out of his wallet and waves it in the air. “My throat is so dry now.”
“Sure,” my brother says, hopping up. “Put your money away. I got it.”
“My throat’s dry too,” I say.
David looks at me and rolls his eyes. “All right. Be right back.”
Starla giggles at me when he leaves. “Your brother’s cute.”
Colton is watching David’s . . . ass? Even though he doesn’t say anything, I think that’s a good sign.
I don’t know if I should tell Starla that she’s not David’s type. “Yeah? I suppose.” My brother would make a wonderful gypsy, with his long red curls that he usually keeps pulled back under a Braves cap. He has only the tiniest hint of a goatee. So not the image of your average truck-driving hick. He broke so many girls’ hearts in high school.
A cold draft blows through the theater, as if the air-conditioning has just kicked on.
“Hey,” David says, handing us our Cokes. I would have preferred a Dr. Pepper, but I keep quiet.
“Thanks, sweetie,” Colton says. I hope he really does like my brother. I would hate to think I was doing all this for no reason.
David and Colton begin chatting like long-lost friends, and since Raine and Starla have their heads together plotting to take over the world for all I know, I try to watch what’s going on up on the stage. But my mind must be bored.
It starts working in overdrive.
Those kids up on stage are really good. I don’t think my audition was that strong, after all. The girl with the black ponytail uses an English accent and seems to be perfectly comfortable with iambic pentameter. The guy reading for Bottom actually juggles.
I can’t compete with a juggler.
And I’m nowhere near as cute as the little five-year-olds. Maybe I should have worn fairy wings today.
I let out a breath and see Raine and Starla glance back at me.
They’re whispering about my sucktastic audition.
My heart starts getting wound up, and my hands begin to sweat. Oh no. I’m overcome with a sudden sense of impending doom and must escape. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I think I know I’m having a panic attack, but the rest of my brain is in FLEE FOR YOUR LIFE mode. I stand up, grabbing David by the shoulder.
“Be back in a minute,” I mutter, before climbing out into the aisle.
“’K.” He doesn’t even look up at me. He doesn’t care anymore. He probably wants me to leave him and Colton alone anyway.
I try not to stumble as I walk up the aisle toward the exit. Everyone is watching me, I can feel their stares on me. Ugh.
I open the doors as quietly as possible, but light from the foyer still floods the darkened auditorium. Draw even more attention to yourself, Nat.
The women’s bathroom off the foyer has a sign on the door: UNDER CONSTRUCTION, PARDON OUR MESS! I’m not about to use the men’s room, so I head toward the backstage area, hunting for the dressing rooms.
It’s quiet back here. All the lights are off, so I move slowly with my phone out for a little bit of light.
It’s actually too quiet. My ears begin to buzz
. I feel relief when I see the women’s dressing room door and push it open, making a slight squeak.
There are several toilet stalls and even two shower stalls back here. Good to know, I guess. I’m not in any hurry to get back to that crowd, but I would hate for David to say something smart ass about me falling in.
I head back through the dark backstage area and see the back row of curtains move. The area grows chilly around me, and in the dim light I think I see a person standing there, looking at me.
I don’t know if it’s someone auditioning or someone working here at the theater. “Sorry!” I say. “Just had to use the bathroom!”
The person doesn’t say anything, and I hurry past, anxious now to be back in my seat next to my brother.
I turn around just as I open the door to the hallway, but the person in the shadows is gone.
At the end of tryouts, Mrs. Green announces that she’ll be making final decisions within the next two days. Practice will be from five to eight, Monday through Friday, with set work days on the weekends. The performance will be in four weeks.
I feel a nervous little jiggle in my stomach. What am I doing here? Performances? In front of people? I lean over and whisper to David, “Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea.” I could be spending my summer at the beach instead of stuck in this moldy old theater.
“Don’t give up now, or I’ll have to tell Mom and Dad about the bonfire with Caleb.”
I hate my brother.
As we stand up to leave, I tug on David’s arm. “Look up there on the stage. Do you see the curtains moving? There was someone back there when I went looking for the bathroom.”
“Where?” David asks.
“The curtains in the back. See how they’re swaying?”
David takes a look onstage and frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t see the curtains moving up there?”
He stares at the stage again. Then looks back at me. “Oh, Nat.” My brother sighs heavily, and glances around to see if anyone else is nearby, listening. “Not again.”
CHAPTER 3
I look at my brother and get a sick feeling in my stomach. My gaze swings from his sad face back up to the stage. The curtains my brother can’t see. Crap. Why did I say anything?
David has his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Nat. Did you—”
“Of course I took my meds!” I whisper. No one is paying attention to us, though. Starla is playing with Colton’s phone, listening to his music with earbuds in. Raine is talking with Mrs. Green up onstage.
“All right. Maybe I just didn’t look fast enough.”
“Whatever. Can we go home?” I don’t want to be here anymore. It must be the stress from auditioning. If I was hallucinating about the curtains, maybe the person backstage wasn’t real either.
“Colton asked if we wanted to stop at the sushi place down the street. I know you like their soup.”
I sigh. I really don’t feel like hanging out with strangers right now. Getting to know new people and trying to keep them from learning you’re a freak is exhausting. “Why don’t you go without me? You’d probably make a better impression solo.”
David looks concerned. “No, if you want to go home, I’ll take you home. We’ll tell them you have a migraine or something.”
And he lies so beautifully, I think he’ll make a wonderful Shakespearean actor. I manage a feeble smile at Starla when she and Raine tell me they hope I feel better soon.
Colton pouts. “We’ll miss you two.” But he’s looking at David when he says this.
“See, I’m helping you play hard to get,” I tell my brother, when we are in the truck driving back to Grandma’s.
He grins. “I already got his phone number.”
“David!”
“But I want to hear more about you. Did you meet any hot boys in the psych unit last month?”
I roll my eyes. And the image of Lucas in the theater flashes before my eyes. He is so not my type.
“Who’s not your type?”
Crap. Was I talking out loud? “Um, there was a boy at Winter Oaks that I saw at the theater today. But really, he’s not my type.”
David glances over at me, his pierced eyebrow cocked up. “Sis, the last boy you dated went to jail for dealing drugs. Before that, the other one slept with half of your class. While the two of you were going out. Maybe you need a new type.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think hooking up with a fellow psych patient is a smart idea.”
“Probably not.” He shrugs. “But tell me about this crazy but hot boy you met.”
I love my brother to death. “I don’t really know much about him. He was at Winter Oaks for a suicide attempt, I think, though he kept telling the counselors it was an accident. Obviously they didn’t believe him, or he wouldn’t have been there, right?”
“Hmm. Cute?”
“You’d think he was.” Lucas has floppy blond hair that usually hangs over his face. When it’s not hiding under a baseball cap. “Dresses like he belongs on the CW.”
David’s second “Hmm” goes up an octave.
“Oh, but he definitely doesn’t swing for your team. I just remembered the reason he tried to kill himself was because of his girlfriend dumping him. So he’s not the boy for you, and definitely not for me. Don’t need someone that hung up on an ex.”
“But you just said he claimed he didn’t try to kill himself.”
“He overdosed on sleeping pills and alcohol.”
“Did he leave a note?”
I shrug. I guess I shouldn’t make any judgments when I’ve never held a conversation with Lucas before. But as I don’t have any plans to have any deep conversations with him at the theater, it doesn’t matter. And really, I don’t think he’s cute.
Much.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Robin Bridges
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0355-2
eISBN-10: 1-4967-0355-3
First Kensington Electronic Edition: April 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4967-0354-5
Robin Bridges, Dreaming of Antigone
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