Page 10 of Intermission

“Believe me, it’s not. I was the unplanned third child, the family’s fifth wheel, as my sister likes to say. Mom claims she was all hyped up on pain meds and thought it would be sweet for me to share a birthday and a name with my dad’s mother, but that she regretted it as soon as the drugs wore off. According to my older brother, all was well until I was a few weeks old. Apparently, Mom and Grandma Maddie got into a huge fight about something—I have no idea what it was—but after that, Mom refused to call me by Grandma’s name. She decided it was too much of a hassle to change my birth certificate, so I’m still legally Madeleine, but I can’t recall her ever calling me anything other than Faith. The end.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. My mom is the world’s foremost authority on how to hold a grudge. So if you needfaith, then you may have to wait a little longer. Technically speaking, I’m not it.”

“Ah, well. It was a pretty cheesy straw to grasp.” He doesn’t sound too upset, though. “So, you need to practice, right? Go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Do you want to sing ‘Easy Street’? I can fill in the other parts, if you’d like. You’re the dumb hotel, so I guess that makes me Rooster.”

In my dreams.I cough over the thought. “Rooster and Miss Hannigan. And, honestly, most of the song. My part is pretty small. Just harmonies and a few nasally-delivered lines.” I frown. What felt like an awesome achievement for a sophomore at KHS a little bit ago seems a bit pathetic now, considering my present company.

“I guess it’s not the best song to duet,” he says. “We could give it a try...”

“Nah.” I sigh. “It’s okay. I guess we could sing something else if you wanted. A real duet.”

Did I just suggest we—?

Oh, I did. Idid.I cannot believe I—

Kill. Me. Now.

“Forget it. Sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, glad again for the darkness.

“No, we should. I mean... the acoustics here are phenomenal. Itwould be a shame not to use them. Let’s sing something. Do you have a favorite duet?”

I’ve been addicted to show tunes since age three when a family vacation to Orlando introduced me to some princesses, a life-sized mouse or two, and a show featuring selections from the Broadway version ofDisney’s Beauty and the Beast, but my mind is a sudden blank. “Umm... you pick.”

As if he caught the theme of my princess-y train of thought, he says, “Do you know ‘Ten Minutes Ago’ fromRodgers & Hammerstein’sCinderella?”

I nod. “Mm-hmm.”

Noah shoots to his feet, singing the opening line before he’s even fully upright.

My jaw drops. I mean... dang. He’s all so... Prince Charming. I close my mouth in time to take his offered hand, and he pulls me to my feet just before my part—Cinderella’s—begins.

It’s a fairly short little song—thank goodness! And somehow,somehow, I manage to pull it off, even while my brain is mushy-mcmushkins that this amazingly-voiced Prince Charming is singing to—I mean,with—me in the moonlight, on top of a waterfall.

“That was fun,” Noah says as we sit down, both of us dangling our legs over the waterfall’s ledge. “Your voice is... rich.”

“It’s the acoustics here. They’re—”

“No, I mean it. Sincerely. You’re good. I wonder why you didn’t get cast in a bigger role forAnnie? Speaking of that, are there still tickets available for the show next weekend?”

“Last I heard.”

“I’ll have to get one.”

“Really? Mr. London Academy of Musical Theatre wants to come to a measly little high school musical?”

“Sure.” His grin widens. “I know the girl who’s playing the dumb hotel.”

“I’m honored.” And my face is on fire. He wants to see me on stage!

Noah pulls his phone out and wakes the screen. “Oh, man.” He groans. “I have to be on a job site in six hours.”

“A what?”