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Chapter Twenty-Nine

I do my best at the following rehearsals, no matter how much it pains me to see Zayne, to avoid his attempts to speak to me, or listen to him call after me when I run in the other direction between scenes.

I endure his presence over the rest of the week, and on Friday, I tell myself it’s almost over. This is the last rehearsal, the last chance to work out any kinks before tomorrow’s performance.

Opening night.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder as I walk to the drama room. It’s Saturday, and I contemplated not bringing a backpack, full of schoolwork I’ll hopefully be able to get to during any downtime I have backstage. Now that I’m no longer dating Zayne, my brain has cleared him out and called my attention to more important things, like my slowly deteriorating GPA.

I try my best not to look in his direction when I open the door to the green room, but I can’t help it. I glance at him, sitting at a table with Jude and some other drama kids I never talk to. As if he can sense my gaze, Zayne glances up, meeting my stare. He looks solemn; resigned. It’s like he’s given up trying to explain to me what happened. Like he’s given up hope on earning my forgiveness, on our relationship.

I ignore the feeling like a knife in my chest and remind myself: That’s exactly what you wanted him to do.

I set my stuff down on the table my friends are at. Mabel is applying stage makeup with a small, rhinestone compact in her other hand, and Meredith is digging through her purse. “Stupid bag,” she mutters. “It’s like it eats everything important.”

“Actually, you’re just nervous,” says Mabel. “And if you’re looking for your falsies, I have them in my bag.”

“Oh.” Meredith relaxes. “Thanks.”

“Hey, D.” Rue waves at me from her spot next to Mabel. She’s resting her chin on her duffel bag, looking exhausted but done up in her practice look for tonight.

“You look great.” I take a seat next to her and gesture to her face. “Can you do mine, too?”

She smiles. “Sure.” But her smile falters a bit when I follow her stare, past me, to Zayne and his friends. She touches my hand. “It’s going to be okay. You could always still, you know, talk to him.”

I shake my head. “I have nothing to say.”

Mr. Saltzman claps his hands at the front of the room. “We’ll start in about twenty minutes. Be ready to blow my socks off. ” He stares around the room. “You’re an amazing group of actors. You should be proud of yourselves. I’m proud to have you all in my production.”

A collective, murmured, “Aw,” floats around the room, and we shuffle out of our seats to put the finishing touches on our costumes.

I’m already dressed in my first look, which is Cathy as a ghost, when Mr. Saltzman approaches me. He lowers his glasses down to the bridge of his nose as he looks me in the eye. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Zayne, Dot.” His mouth curves downward. “But whatever it is, I need you to clear it up before opening night.”

Shame burns my face, and I struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for letting my own business affect the play, Mr. Saltzman.”

“I don’t want to see it happen again.”

The way he looks at me makes me feel like I got onstage and forgot all my lines. “I promise it won’t,” I say.

“I hope you’re right. And I expect you to bring the same chemistry to rehearsal as you would tomorrow’s performance. No more miming the romance scenes with Zayne. I don’t care if you hate his guts in real life. Onstage, he’s the love of your life.” He pushes his glasses back up on his face and walks away.

I take a deep breath to recover some of my confidence and swallow down the burning in my throat.

Stages have nothing to do with how I feel about Zayne.

Onstage, he’s the love of my life, and offstage, he’s no different.

Luckily, I have some time before my first scene. I need to mentally prepare myself to kiss Zayne today instead of miming it like I’ve done the past few rehearsals. In fact, I’ll have to kiss him multiple times, and it’s all I can think about because he’s no ordinary kisser. I’m pretty sure kissing him for the first time is what pushed my feelings over the edge when I was still trying to fight them.

I shake off the thoughts of his lips against mine. Trailing up my neck, making my knees weak, and… focus. Today is about acting. Proving to myself I can give the best performance of my life regardless of the state of my heart.

If Mr. Saltzman wants chemistry, I’ll show him chemistry.

We run through the first half of the play in a breeze. We’ve done this so many times, I can practically recite the whole performance in my sleep. And per Mr. Saltzman’s request, I do my best to clear my head and give an amazing performance.

But now, it’s time for the moment I’ve been dreading. I’m standing onstage with Zayne, dressed in a romantic Catherine Earnshaw look—a burgundy silk gown, complete with a corset, laced boots, and white gloves. The backdrops behind us are finally complete and perfectly painted, so detailed I feel like I’m on the set of a period drama TV show. I can’t help but be impressed with the set crew’s skill in painting the elegantly arched windows, the heavy gold drapes framing them, and the expensive-looking furniture of Wuthering Heights.

I ground out the lines I’ve said in front of him thousands of times now. “You returned on my wedding day, only to punish me.”

But Mr. Saltzman cuts in. “Come on, Dot. Say it like you mean it. I need to feel more emotion from you. More .”

I blink in surprise. Am I not giving my best performance? There’s no time left for mistakes like this. I should be on my A-Game right now.

I let my eyes bore into Zayne’s, returning his intense gaze. And my toes feel numb in response.

In this particular scene, his expression is always intense, but I can’t help but notice it’s different this time. As if, for once, he’s having trouble pushing his real feelings aside to stay in character.

So, instead of shoving mine down, I do the complete opposite. I let myself feel the heartbreak I’ve been trying to ignore since the dance, allowing it to fully slice through my chest like a knife.. “You returned on my wedding day,” I say, “only to punish me.”

His eyes fall to my lips. He places his hand on my waist, holding me firmly in place, but there’s a subtle tremble in his hand, like he’s afraid to break me, and his lips are against mine in the next moment.

The kiss starts as planned. Nothing more than a single, close-mouthed peck. But neither of us breaks apart. His mouth is soft and hot against mine, and when I part my lips for him, I taste mint and the familiar coffee signature of Zayne.

I don’t let go right away, gripping his costume shirt in my fists, and he kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to, like in a moment, I’ll vanish into thin air.

He’s an even better kisser than I remembered.

My knees threaten to buckle as I try to find my way out of it, but I can’t.

I am lost. And I want to stay lost.

The kiss lasts several more stretched-out moments, and then we finally come up for air, breaking apart but not letting go of one another. I catch Mr. Saltzman’s smile from the corner of my eye. Zayne breathes like he just finished running a marathon, and I try to ignore the incessant thudding in my own chest. Too much. This is too much for me.

But I finish the scene because I have to. I need to prove that I can do this. That he doesn’t affect me the way he thinks he does.

Mr. Saltzman doesn’t give us commentary, which means we did a good job, and then Carlton is brought onstage, displaying one of the most generic performances of his I’ve ever seen. We run through the entire scene, and then the next. After that, the three of us are allowed backstage.

I rush past Zayne without a word.

“Dot!” His voice is as wounded as I feel, but he has no reason to be upset.

I spin around and glare at him. The entire backstage cast is watching us, but I don’t care. “You shouldn’t have kissed me like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands. “You’re right.”

I wipe the corner of my eye, and a strong arm drapes across my shoulder. Carlton.

“It’s alright, Dot,” he says, making a show of rubbing my shoulder as he stares at Zayne. “Let’s go find a seat.”

Zayne’s eyes harden into ice. “Take your hand off her.”

“Both of you, stop it.” I shrug out from Carlton’s embrace and roll my eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

I leave them both standing there and find a chair in the corner of the green room. I sit in it, ignoring the blatant stares and whispers buzzing around the room. Rue and the twins have a scene together right now, so I have no one else to sit with. But I don’t even care. I’d rather not talk to anyone. In fact, I can’t believe I have to do this all over again tonight.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in theater, it’s that the show must go on.

After rehearsal, Mr. Saltzman informs us all on what a good job we did today. “I couldn’t be prouder,” he tells us. We’re seated backstage, and he stands at the podium with a proud smile on his face. “It went even better than I expected. Now go home, take a nice long break, and I’ll see you all back here tomorrow for opening night.”

Applause sounds in the room. I clap along halfheartedly. The room empties then, and Mr. Saltzman goes back to the stage to check the tape placement the actors will use for blocking. I remain seated. I don’t have the energy to move just yet. Not after that kiss.

I stare at the ground, but I know there’s only one other person in the room with me now. Of course, there is. I lift my head to look at him, standing a few feet away, waiting for the right moment to speak. “Go away, Zayne,” I say. “It’s over. Accept it.”

His shoulders tense. “Not until you let me explain.” He approaches my table and sits beside me in a chair. “After that, I’ll accept it. I promise.”

“What makes you think I’ll believe anything you say?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but an alarm goes off on someone’s phone. It’s too loud and distracting to ignore, so I get up to find and silence it. It’s better than sitting here, listening to pathetic excuses anyway.

I find the phone, still blaring, on the podium, and press snooze. “I think this is Mr. Saltzman’s,” I mutter, swiping at the lock screen. “He must have left it by accident.”

Zayne nods, but I squint at the screen when it opens. The phone doesn’t have a password, and I can’t help but recognize the page our drama teacher has opened on the screen, because it turns my stomach. I hold up the phone. “Even our teacher reads Little Birdie.”

Zayne shrugs. “That’s great for him. I really think we should?—”

“Wait a minute.” I scroll, squinting at the page, at the familiar branding of the site, but confused by the unfamiliar formatting of it. At the word in the top corner. “Admin? Why does it say admin?”

Zayne pauses. And then his eyes go round. “ What? ”

In the next moment, his body is next to mine at the podium and we’re both staring at Mr. Saltzman’s phone. At the Little Birdie admin dashboard. We see the unposted drafts in his archive. The already posted blasts along with their analytics. A folder of anonymous tips from classmates, strangers, and even a few from Lenny— Lenny?!— all sent in for Little Birdie to post if she wishes.

…If he wishes.

Mr. Saltzman rushes into the room. He pauses in the front of the podium, holding his stomach, breathless from running. He stares at me and Zayne with wide, alarmed eyes. Waits for us to speak.

I flip the phone around, showing him what we’re seeing. “ You’re Little Birdie?”

“Oh, no.” He cringes, and red spots appear on his cheeks. “I was afraid of this.”

“You better start talking. Now. ” Zayne steps in front of me. “Because if you’re the one spreading all these lies and meddling with your students’ lives, I’m going to need a really good reason not to report you.”

His already white face gets a little paler. “I’m your teacher. No one would believe you, Zayne, and I’d have you expelled for trying.”

“Before your play?” Zayne crosses his arms. “The one Little Birdie—I mean, you —have been urging everyone around here to come watch? I don’t think so. Talk.”

Mr. Saltzman gazes at me helplessly, but I don’t budge. I just stand there, confused and feeling like I’m going to be sick .

“I wasn’t always Little Birdie,” he whispers. I can’t help but notice the way his pulse thrums rapidly in his throat. The way his hands shake as he fiddles with them. “It used to be my daughter. She attended this school nine years ago, and after she graduated, I found the app she developed on her phone. I was extremely impressed, but then again, my little Layla has always been a genius. When I approached her about it, she told me she was done with it, on to bigger and better things. I forgot about it for a while. And then my job was in danger.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Fallbrook’s drama club wasn’t always what it is now,” he explains. Without seeming to realize it, he falls back into the seat at his podium. I stay standing, still holding the phone, and Zayne remains at my side. My heart thuds against my ribcage. “Kids used to consider this department very nerdy,” Mr. Saltzman continues. “It was like pulling teeth getting anyone to join. Which meant there wasn’t a huge need for a drama teacher. I was in danger of being laid off.”

“So, you took over your daughter’s app,” I cut in, “because…?”

He holds up a finger. “I’m getting there.”

Zayne glares at him. “Wrap it up.”

“I had to find a way to get people to join,” he cries. “So, I used Little Birdie’s voice to make it sound appealing. And then I used the app as a sort of tabloid for the acting students. To make them sound like celebrities. And it worked .” In spite of his obvious fear, he holds his chin a little higher. “We had more than enough students after that. I had to turn kids away. And soon enough, Fallbrook’s drama department caught the eye of Underwood Academy and earned its prestigious reputation.”

I cross my arms. “That doesn’t give you the right to meddle in people’s lives. It’s wrong, Mr. Saltzman. Gossiping is wrong, and this is supposed to be a Christian school.”

He offers me a sad, knowing smile. “But it keeps the drama club thriving. It keeps people interested.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to my life?” I shake my head. “You posted about my mom stealing pills on Thanksgiving!”

“Wait a minute,” says Zayne. “How did you know about the pills? Were you, like, outside my house on a freaking holiday like a complete psycho?”

Mr. Saltzman utters a nervous laugh. “I did say I was flying around the neighborhood, didn’t I? Perhaps, I hoped there would be something newsworthy to spread about you two after the holiday. And I was right.”

I gape at him. Tears cloud my vision as I imagine him witnessing the events with Mom. It’s humiliating.

Zayne shakes his head. “And what about my audition script? Did you already know what Carlton did to it?”

“Carlton?” Mr. Saltzman laughs like we’re all good friends sharing a joke. Maybe it’s his way of trying to calm us down. “I gave you both a marked up script.” At Zayne’s murderous scowl, he holds up his hands. “You have to understand how much everyone loves your feud with Carlton, Zayne. I was just giving them what they wanted.”

“You mean they were both innocent?” I ask. “And you knew they’d both assume the other was sabotaging them?”

Mr. Saltzman shrugs. “Before you two get mad, listen. I already knew who I was going to cast as Edgar and Heathcliff.” He turns his gaze on me. “Zayne and Carlton are both talented, qualified actors. It didn’t matter if they flubbed their auditions with those scripts. That was all purely to keep the feud going for the column. Same with the snake in Carlton’s backpack.”

I swallow back my tears so I can ask him the question I’ve been wondering all along. “Why about me? Why did you really cast me as the lead if you have so many people who want to be in your play?”

He bites away a grin. “Because you were pretty good, but better yet, you’re a new actress, and I knew it would make the others angry and jealous. Stir up more drama. I really meant it when I said you two have great chemistry.”

My stomach sinks at his words. “So, it wasn’t because you saw something special in me?” There’s a roaring in my ears I can’t ignore. All this time, I thought I had a natural talent Mr. Saltzman couldn’t resist. I’ve been storing that thought in the forefront of my mind to keep myself going. To keep me from quitting. Now that I know he cast me as the lead for the sake of causing drama, I can’t help but feel like an imposter who can’t act at all.

Zayne sighs. It’s like he can sense my disappointment. “You’ve become the best actress I know, Dot.” He touches my arm, sending warmth back into my cold limbs.

“And you’re the best liar I know.” I pull my arm away from him, but then realize what I just said. I turn to face Little Birdie himself. “Or…is he?

Zayne’s lips part. His gaze jumps to Mr. Saltzman, who is watching us with interest. “Tell her,” he grounds out. “Tell her the truth about that trash you posted during the dance.”

The drama teacher holds up his hands. “I didn’t lie. I said I got my information from an insider who claims to have heard you speak those words. I never said I heard them myself.”

“Who was your source?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

But Mr. Saltzman shakes his head. “You’ll never get me to talk. Now give me back my phone.”

“Who is the insider?” Zayne takes an aggressive step toward Mr. Saltzman. “So help me, I will go to jail over this, and it will be worth it. Don’t test me!”

A pathetic squeal escapes Mr. Saltzman’s lips, and he shrinks back into his chair. “Carlton! It was Carlton. He sent in a very detailed tip. Please, don’t touch me!”

Zayne stiffens. “I should have known.”

My face burns like it’s on fire. I want to throw something, or yell at someone in frustration. But now is not the time. “Delete the site.” I make my voice as firm as possible. “Get rid of Little Birdie. Enough is enough.”

“Absolutely not.” Mr. Saltzman crosses his arms. “You can’t make me.”

“I can if you want to keep your job.” Zayne balls his hand into a fist, but I grab his arm to keep him from lunging at our teacher.

“It’s not worth it,” I whisper. By some miracle, he seems to relax his tense form. To Mr. Saltzman, I say, “You’ve broken so many school rules with this app. We could report you. If you care about your job so much, you’ll take this seriously.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose. He’s wearing a poker face, so I can’t tell if my threat makes him nervous or not. “I’ll offer you both immunity from the Little Birdie platform in exchange for your silence.”

“Or we could just get you fired.” Zayne crosses his arms. “And you just committed a crime called blackmail. That’s grounds for arrest.”

Mr. Saltzman shifts in his chair. His cheeks are set aflame, nearly crimson against his round, pale face, and a bead of sweat forms at his temple. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Actually, I can.” Zayne reaches into his pocket and points his phone in the teacher’s direction. I started recording when you first ran in, looking all nervous. Say hi to the camera.”

“I...” His chin wobbles like a nutcracker. “I’ll shut down the app. I promise. No more Little Birdie.” He presses his palms together. “I can’t lose my job. Please. ”

The pressure in my chest eases. “You’ll have to make one more post, saying goodbye. That way we’ll know you’re serious.”

Mr. Saltzman gravely looks us each in the eye through his glasses. “You have my word.” Pain is visible in his gaze. I know he’s probably devastated that he’ll have to give up this ridiculous legacy he built on the backs of his students, but I don’t care. He deserves to feel every ounce of pain he’s inflicted on others with this mess.

“Then we have a deal.” I hand him back the phone.