Page 18 of His Drama Queen

"I was adequate. You were transcendent." He studies me, hands still for once. "You weren't acting, were you? Not entirely."

"Everyone brings their truth to their roles."

"That wasn't just truth. That was autobiography."

No denial comes.

The cast list goes up at six. Medea's name sits next to mine. Ben is Jason. We'll spend the next five weeks tearing each other apart on stage, showing Columbus what happens when love becomes rage.

"Congratulations," Ben says, appearing at my door with a bottle of sparkling cider, free hand already gesturing celebration. "To the most terrifying Medea I've ever seen."

"We haven't even started rehearsals yet."

"Doesn't matter." He pours two glasses with flourish. "I already know you're going to be devastating. In the best way."

We drink, and pretending happens—pretending my hands aren't shaking, pretending the room isn't spinning, pretending I'm not calculating how many more days my body can sustain this level of rejection sickness.

"First rehearsal's tomorrow at nine," he says, counting on his fingers. "Then regular classes, then evening rehearsal until midnight."

"I know."

"Think you can handle it?"

Thinking about the alternative of going back, submitting, letting them win. "I'll handle it."

He leaves. Barely making it to the bathroom before throwing up happens. The sparkling cider burns coming back up. My body is rejecting everything now, not just them. Food, liquid, sleep—nothing stays.

But I got the part. I'm Medea. For five more weeks, there's a reason to keep going, a role that demands I channel this pain into something powerful.

My phone buzzes. Stephanie again.

I'm coming to Columbus

We need to talk

I can't live with this guilt

Please

The phone turns off completely.

Tomorrow, fifteen-hour rehearsal day. The day after, eighteen hours. By the end of week one, I'll either be stronger or dead.

Either way, I'll be Medea until the end.

Bythesecondweek,people are starting to ask questions.

A student from scene study corners me at lunch. "Hey, Vespera? This might sound weird, but you remind me of someone. My aunt's friend's daughter? She was an omega too, went to some fancy school, but she had to leave because of..." She trails off, clearly fishing.

"I'm from Ohio," I say flatly. "Small town. You're thinking of someone else."

"Oh, but I swear there's a resemblance. What did you say your mom's name was?"

"I didn't." The water bottle in my hand gets gripped tighter. "And I need to get to rehearsal."

Ben appears at my elbow like he's been summoned. "There you are! Marcus wants to run the confrontation scene early." His hand settles on my back, steering me away, and the girl doesn't follow.

"Thanks," I murmur once we're alone.