Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Fledglings!

When a baby bird is born, its mother does not simply feed it an entire worm whole. No!

The mother must chew the food for its fresh hatchling, lest it accidentally choke.

And I, my dearest fledglings, shall do the same for you.

I may have promised to unveil the identity of Rue Sullivan’s long pined-after crush, but that, my dears, would be feeding you too much information at once. Instead, allow me to feed you bit by bit.

I have greater news, you see, that I’m almost certain you’ll choke on with surprise! It’s positively delightful!

Tonight, at the home of twins Mabel and Meredith Evans, Zayne Silverman was caught attacking Carlton Peters! Some say the assault was long overdue, others insist Zayne was out of line.

What we all know for certain?

They were fighting over Dot Bennett.

It’s all captured in the video below, thanks to an anonymous party-goer. See for yourself!

Yours Truly,

Little Birdie

I don’t see the Little Birdie post until Rue is driving away, leaving me standing at my front door, my hand already turning the knob. As frustrating as it is that Zayne was accused of starting the fight with Carlton—of assaulting him, no less—I can’t help but feel some relief that Rue has more time to talk to Carlton before her secret is spilled.

I tuck my phone into my pocket and go inside. I set my purse down on the bench in the entryway and round the corner, where Dad is staring at his phone in the kitchen.

I smile at him. “Hey. I didn’t know you were home.”

His gaze travels up from his phone to look at me. “Dot, have you seen this?” He holds it up.

My spine tingles. “Seen what?” There’s no way he could be referring to the blast that was just sent out. Dad doesn’t even have social media! He doesn’t pay attention to stuff like that. His world consists of jazz music, hard work, and trying his best to be both parents so Mom has nothing to worry about other than getting better. There’s no way he knows what happened tonight.

But sure enough, he holds his phone out to me, where the video of Zayne and Carlton fighting is playing. I’m in the video too, standing close to the camera and telling the person holding it to stop them, to do something.

And then my face pales.

Because I know who sent that video in. I know who filmed it.

I shake my head. “Dad…”

“What’s going on, Bardot?” His voice is serious now. Stern.

“I don’t know.”

“It looks to me like you do. You’re in the video.” He points to me standing in the camera’s frame, my cat costume unmistakable and my face a mixture of bewilderment and frustration. “Who are these boys?”

“Dad, how did you even find that video?”

“It made its way onto the ‘Parents of Fallbrook Christian Prep’ group on social media. Now, answer the question, Bardot,” he says, and I realize my hopes to dance around the subject are futile. He’s not budging on this. And to be honest, if I were him, I wouldn’t either.

“Those boys are Zayne Silverman and Carlton Peters,” I tell him. “You remember Carlton, right? He’s been over here a few times.”

He squints. “He the one who came around a few months back during the summer?”

“Yes. And the other one—Zayne Silverman—you don’t know. He’s the lead actor in the play.” I pause, my cheeks warming against my will. “He’s my friend.”

My father searches my face. I’m not sure what he finds there, but it makes the corners of his mouth lift. “Just your friend?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I say with a laugh. “Zayne is Zayne, Dad.”

He looks baffled. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” I search for the words. “It means that I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I liked Carlton. That auditioning for the play would finally get him to like me back as much as I liked him. But in the process of rehearsing with Zayne, of getting to know him, I’ve realized Carlton isn’t who I thought he was. And neither is Zayne. And it’s changed everything.” I cover my face with my hands. “I’m so confused.”

Dad waits for me to drop my hands. He has a gleam in his eye, like he’s happy I’ve decided to confide in him. “What’s there to be confused about, baby? It sounds to me like you like Zayne.”

He makes it sound so simple. It would be if that’s all there was to it. But there’s more, the second part of the truth that I’ve been suppressing, that I’ve been hiding in the hopes that it would simply go away with time. “Being in the play has messed up my priorities, Dad. I used to have my head on straight. I used to care about getting into a good college more than anything else in the world. And now I catch myself sometimes fantasizing about stupid things.”

He frowns. “Stupid things? Like what?”

“I don’t know.” I wave my hand around in the air. “Stupid things like acting, and going to this really prestigious acting school for select high school and college students instead of going to Yale or Harvard, which is stupid and childish and irresponsible, and?—”

My dad stops me. “You want to go to acting school, Bardot?”

“No!” My voice jumps an octave. “I don’t! I mean, I know it’s just a spontaneous urge or something. I know it can’t be what I really want, deep down. It can’t be.” I do my best to reassure him, because otherwise, this entire conversation will feel like a slap on the face to him. After how hard he works, after all the time he spent homeschooling me to be ahead of my grade so I’d graduate with a perfect GPA. He’s done everything he can to help me get into an Ivy League. Anything to help me accomplish my goal. I can’t do this to Dad. To Mom. To myself.

I can’t.

Dad smiles sadly at me—so sadly it breaks my heart. Because no matter how convincing I try to sound, I know he can see right through me.

“Honey,” he says after much too long of a silence. “I will be so proud of you if you get into Yale, or Harvard, or Brown. If you go to an Ivy League.”

I nod. It’s the response I’m expecting, after all. So why does it hurt so bad to hear? “I know,” I say. “And I will. I’ll?—”

“I’m not finished. I will be proud of you if you go to a respectable college. Of course I will. But I will be so much prouder if you make the brave decision to do what you know, deep down will make you happy. Even if that means traditional college is out.”

I blink in confusion. I’m certain I misheard him. “What are you saying? I—I can go to Underwood Academy?”

“Do what makes you happy, Bardot. Within reason of course. This Underwood Academy is probably a respectable institution, otherwise I doubt it would even be on your radar. If acting is what you want to pursue…well, who am I to stop you? The last thing I want for you is to be stuck in a life you hate because you thought it would make your old man proud.”

I’m stunned into silence. All I can do is stare at him because I can’t believe what he just said. “You can’t mean that, Daddy. What about all the work we’ve done to get me this far?”

He shrugs and then does the unthinkable. He smiles. “An education is never a waste. And part of learning is living, Dot. What kind of father would I be if I tried to keep you from living? Tried to force you on the path I thought was best for you? Only you know what path will make you happy.”

I can’t help it. I start to tear up, and my face splits into a wide grin. I throw my arms around him and hug him. “Thank you,” I say around my smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Beau comes out of his room. “What’s going on?” He rubs his face like he had just been sleeping.

“I’m going to acting school!” I shout and release my dad from my strangling hug.

Beau scrunches his nose. “Since when?”

“Since right now!”

He smirks. “Because of Zayne?”

“No, not because of Zayne. Because of me !”

“Uh huh. Right.” An antagonistic smirk forms on his mouth.

“Okay. I’ve officially heard enough out of you,” I say.

Dad chuckles. “You both should get to bed. It’s getting late.”

I kiss him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dad.” I walk down the hall to my room, wondering if Mom will feel the same way he does about my new path. She might not, which definitely worries me, but as soon as I’m face-up on my bed, I grin at the ceiling. There’s no way I can sleep. Not after everything that’s happened tonight.

Saying out loud that I want to go to acting school.

Kissing Zayne.

Dad’s approval.

Kissing Zayne!

I snatch my phone off my pillow. I did promise to text him, didn’t I? Just a quick conversation, and then I’ll go to sleep.

Me

Hey! Just got home.

Zayne

Glad to hear it

Me

Did I wake you up?

Zayne

No. I wasn’t sleeping. Are you going to sleep?

I hesitate before responding. Staying awake means texting him. Texting him means discussing us. Because how can we not? After all, we did kiss tonight. I don’t know what that means.

But I want to find out.

Me

I’m not tired. Guess what?

Zayne

What?

Me

Can I call you?

For some reason, the conversation I’m about to have with him feels too important to text. There’s too much to say. I answer the phone when it vibrates, my stomach bubbling with nerves. “Hey.”

“Hi.” His voice is hushed, like mine.

I imagine Beau on the other side of my bedroom door, his ear pressed against the wood. I get off my bed and go sit in my closet because it feels safer, harder for my voice to carry. “I’m guessing you saw what Little Birdie posted.”

“Yeah. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Don’t worry. No one actually believes you attacked Carlton. And if I have to, I’ll be a witness!”

He laughs at my enthusiasm. “Thanks, Dot. I appreciate that.”

We’re both quiet for a beat, and then I say, “Can you believe the play is two weeks away?”

There’s a pause. I can somehow sense his amusement through the phone. “Come on, Dot. I know you want to talk about us. About the kiss.”

My mind strays from my conversation with Dad as I remember the burning kisses Zayne rained on my mouth tonight. I blush, grateful that he can’t see my face. “We don’t have to talk about us. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.” His voice is like a caress. “I think it’s time we set the record straight, if anything.”

My heart speeds up. I press the phone closer to my ear. “What do you mean?”

Another long pause. And then, “I really like you, Dot.”

I can’t help the smile my lips form. “You mean, you don’t kiss all your friends like that?”

“Nope.” He laughs. “Definitely not.”

I grin again. It’s impossible not to. “I like you too, Zayne.”

“Do you know what that means?” he asks.

“What?”

“That means you should be my girlfriend and I should be your boyfriend.”

I smirk, though he can’t see it. “You mean you’re not going to string me along? Wait until I join another play and start liking your childhood enemy?”

“Never.”

“Good.” The butterflies in my stomach rapidly flap their little wings. My cheeks sting from smiling so much. This moment is perfect. Perfect. But still, I can’t help but wonder about what Rue said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says.

“Is it common for co-stars to date each other at Fallbrook?”

“I’m not sure.” His tone sounds wary. It makes my stomach clench. “Why?”

I bite my lip. “Just wondering.” I’m dying to ask him about Cassidy, but I don’t want to spoil this moment. I don’t want the mention of who might have been his ex-girlfriend to taint my memories of this moment. So, I leave it alone for now and add, “By the way, I decided that Ivies might not be all they’re cracked up to be.”

“What are you talking about?”

I take a deep breath. After all this, what if Zayne doesn’t want me to go to Underwood? What if he takes this as me trying to steal his spot? Carlton would. “I finally admitted to my dad that college isn’t for me. It felt so good to finally let it out,” I breathe.

“Seriously? Dot, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks. And I’ve been thinking…you said Nigel Weathers usually offers his two spots to the leads every year. I don’t think I would be able to turn down an opportunity like that.”

“You mean you wouldn’t give your spot up for Carlton?” He sounds surprised, and maybe a little too pleased by this idea.

“If I get offered the spot, that means I deserve it more than he does, right?” I try not to sound too hopeful or desperate. I didn’t realize until now how much his approval means to me. He’s been telling me for months that I’m becoming a better actor. A great one, even. But what if all this time it was just words? “Does it make me a bad person for wanting to steal his dream?” I ask.

“Not if it’s your dream, too.” His voice is firm. “If you want it, Dot, go and get it. And you better not let someone like Carlton stop you.”

Getting into Underwood on scholarship would mean Dad could stop working so hard to pay for Fallbrook. This is my chance to take some of the burden off my family and prove to them that this time, I’m not choosing a path on a whim, or out of envy. It’s because of passion. The thing I’ve finally discovered after so much searching.

“I want it, Zayne. I want to be an actor so bad. I want to go to the best acting school around.” I exhale a low breath. Talking about this is making me anxious. Excited.

Terrified.

Because there’s nothing in all the world quite as daunting as talk of the future.

“Then Underwood, here you come.” There’s a smile in his voice.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The future may be out of my control, but right here in the present, things are good. I like them. And nothing—not even Little Birdie herself—can do anything to change that.