Page 7

Chapter Seven

I was starting to think Little Birdie was done gossiping about me. After days of no news on the app, things were beginning to feel closer to how they were before I auditioned for the play. Normal. Sort of. I stopped getting random waves in the halls, stopped being photographed like I was suddenly doing something spectacular.

Until today.

As Meredith is complaining to Mabel about the costume design for her role as Nelly, a Little Birdie alert goes off. The sound of the familiar whistle echoes throughout the crowded corridor, both eerie and exciting. Where there are no whistles, there are phones vibrating. Every single person in view grabs their phone, some with both hands, and stares into the screen.

I can’t help but follow.

At last, fledglings! I have emerged. After a week of being good, I can’t stay silent any longer.

It appears Dot Bennett just couldn’t keep away. Though the new girl seems to be smitten over Carlton Peters while in the public eye, she leads a very different life in private.

Dot was seen at the house of none other than Zayne Silverman last Friday at 5:20pm! And better yet, alone with him—in his bedroom! How very risqué!

I just wonder what Carlton thinks of all this. Let’s hope he’s made of tougher stuff than thread, because it appears the new girl may, in fact, be stringing him along!

Yours truly,

Little Birdie

I lower my phone slowly. My face feels like it’s burning. My heart is beating at a rapid pace. How could this have gotten out? No one stopped by Zayne’s house while I was there, at least not that I know of. Who would have told Little Birdie? The only person it could have been is Lenny, but somehow I can’t imagine him doing such a thing.

I don’t know what I’m more upset about—the clear invasion of my privacy or being caught in a blatant lie. I told Carlton I was helping Beau with homework when he called me that night. But now, there’s no way I’m getting around this.

I glance up at him, but he’s not looking at me. Carlton is staring down the wall of lockers at Zayne Silverman, past the classmates in the hall watching us.

Without a word, he marches over to him. Zayne crosses his arms as Carlton approaches. I’m on Carlton’s heels in an instant. “What are you doing?”

But he’s ignoring me as he leads the way. I glance helplessly over his shoulder at Zayne, who meets my eyes ever so briefly before returning his gaze to Carlton.

I belatedly realize a crowd has formed around us. There are, like, three phones out and recording already. Great.

Carlton shows Zayne the Little Birdie post. “What’s this about, man?”

He shrugs. “What does it look like to you?”

“It’s nothing,” I chime in, hoping Zayne will go along with me. “A lie.”

But Zayne gives me a blatant look and I can practically hear him thinking, Really? Drop the act.

“Don’t look at her,” Carlton says. “I’m the one talking to you. Back off of Dot. You hear me?”

Zayne turns his sarcastic gaze onto Carlton. “Might be hard, considering we’re playing opposite each other onstage.”

“Just stay away from her.”

Zayne laughs. “Why? Afraid your little secret will spill?”

“Secret?” I ask. “What’s he talking about?”

“No idea.” Carlton’s voice is low.

Zayne crosses his arms. “Whatever. Look, I know you’re trying to be all macho-tough-guy in front of Dot, but you can relax. I’m not trying to, like, steal her away from you or anything. We were just running lines. You know, for the play we’re both in? And last time I checked, Dot is fully capable of making her own choices. That includes choosing who she wants to hang out with.” Zayne slams his locker closed and walks away.

Carlton and I are left watching him leave. Slowly, he turns to face me, and realizes we’re still being watched. “Get lost!” he yells at everyone around us. I jump at his tone. It’s so unexpected, but it works. No one is staring at us anymore, instead scurrying toward wherever they were going before, or at least pretending not to be eavesdropping. Carlton’s face is tight. It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen him look relaxed. He’s so different from the guy I was first drawn to. I bet he’s given himself premature wrinkles already. “I don’t like this,” he says.

“You don’t like what?”

“You and him. Zayne. It’s too much. That should have been me. We should have been the ones rehearsing together.”

“We will be.” I reach out and touch his hand. “We have plenty of scenes together.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Why would Mr. Saltzman choose him to play Heathcliff? I’m obviously better than him.”

“It’s not your fault. Zayne ruined your script, remember?” But as the words leave my lips, I can’t help but think back to Zayne’s performance at rehearsal. How impressed I was. How, if I’d been Mr. Saltzman, I probably would have done the same. Because I’ve seen Carlton’s acting, and it’s good. But—as ashamed as I am to admit, even if only to myself—Zayne might possibly be just a teeny bit better .

A flash of memory comes to my mind—the time Carlton demonstrated his skills to me at his house during the summer. I was impressed at his rendition of a scene from a role he played last year, but I couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks would flush, how his voice would waver, as if his self-awareness was a hurdle too high for him to overcome to truly become the role. Zayne has never made mistakes like that in front of me.

But there’s no way I can tell Carlton that.

“Mr. Saltzman will realize how wrong he was. Your performance as Linton will blow everyone away, including Nigel Weathers.” I grin. “You got this.”

He rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re playing Catherine and you hardly deserve it.”

“Oh.” I flinch, stung by his tone. His words. “You—you don’t think I deserve it?”

“Come on, Dot. Be real. Meredith should be playing the lead and everyone knows it. My audition with her was… amazing , and she’s been practicing all summer. You literally just started.”

My chest feels suddenly tight. I need to be alone. Away from him and his hostility. “I need to get to class.”

He grabs my arm. His grip is firm, but not painful. “Wait. I didn’t mean that. I’m just stressed about everything. I’m sorry.” He pins me in place with a softer gaze. Pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

I shut my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his skin on mine. Breathing in his minty scent until my bones thaw. “It’s okay,” I whisper.

“Will you come over for lunch tomorrow?” he murmurs into my braids. “My parents are dying for an excuse to break out the charcuterie board and I’d really love to see you outside of all this garbage.”

My body practically trembles with excitement. Lunch with his parents? This seems…big. Special. But then I remember my previous engagement. “I’m taking Beau to breakfast tomorrow, so let’s make it Sunday.”

“Ok, sure.”

“Great. It’s official ,” I hint.

He smiles, and I smile back, but as I walk away, I can’t help but think that it felt a little forced.

Taking Beau to breakfast on Saturday mornings has become a tradition of mine. Since Dad starts work super early, I have no other choice. It’s not like I can let my little brother starve. And if the only other option is to actually cook , then diners here we come.

“Are we going to a new restaurant every time?” Beau asks as we walk up to Mama & Mimi’s , the place we’re eating today. It’s a cozy-looking maroon building with white stripes on the awning. There’s writing on the window, advertising a free slice of cake when you order the special.

“No harm in trying new things,” I tell him. Since moving to the city, we’ve been to a total of twelve new restaurants, with no repeat visits yet.

He scoffs. “What, you mean like the play? You literally try one new thing and suddenly you’re an expert?”

“That’s right!” We make our way through the entrance to the restaurant. Checkered tile covers most of the entryway, leading to the kitchen on the left, and the dining area is on the right, separated by wood floors. The majority of the walls on the dining side are windows, but near the kitchen, an eclectic assortment of wall hangings cover teal and purple accent walls.

There’s an elderly couple in front of us with two teenagers and a younger kid. The host returns to the podium to take the couple’s names down, and instantly, I recognize his lean frame, his undercut and dreads that match his older brother’s. “Lenny?”

Lenny searches around and then looks up. When he sees me, he beams. “Hey, Dot!”

Beau glances back and forth between the two of us. “You know the host? How? We just moved here!”

“Come on over, I’ll seat you,” says Lenny. “We have a table for two available against the window.”

I nudge Beau forward. He sighs deeply, like I’ve just asked him to run a marathon. I take the lead and we follow Lenny to a small table near—as promised—the front window overlooking the downtown strip. I sidestep a waitress holding a hot pot of coffee and sit across from Beau. Lenny places two laminated menus on the table. The person sitting behind Beau hums delightfully as he crunches a slice of bacon into his mouth.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” I tell Lenny.

“It gets better,” he says. “I’ll tell Zayne that he’ll be your server today.”

I blink several times. “ What? Zayne works here, too?” And then I realize what he just said. That he’s going to make Zayne be our server. “Wait! You don’t have to?—”

Lenny holds up a hand like he’s doing me a favor or something. “I’ll personally make sure of it.” Then he bows until his face is parallel to the ground before returning to his podium.

“You know,” I tell Beau, “maybe you were right about the harm in trying new things after all.”

He picks up his menu from the table. “You should really start listening to me.” He looks over the breakfast items on the page. “What are you going to order?”

Food. Right. I pick up my menu, too. “Uh, probably pancakes.” And then I see the type of pancakes they have. Blueberry banana and cream cakes. “Did I say maybe? I meant definitely.”

“Actually, I’ll take your drink orders first.” It’s not Beau’s voice that says it, though, and I glance up to find Zayne standing next to us wearing a deep purple apron, notebook and pen in hand.

“Zayne,” I mutter by way of greeting.

“Dot.”

The events of what happened yesterday at school play behind my vision, and by the look Zayne is giving me, I think he might be remembering, too.

Beau glances back and forth between the two of us. “Am I missing something?”

Zayne narrows his eyes at me. “I was thinking the same thing. Last time I checked, it’s hard to stay away from someone if they keep following you.”

“I’ll take a diet soda,” says Beau slowly. “And Dot will take an iced tea. Right, Dot?”

I scoff. “I am not following you. I didn’t even know you worked here.”

“Right. I’ll be back with your drinks.” He turns and walks away before I can protest, leaving me flustered in my seat.

Beau’s eyes widen. “What was that all about?”

“ That is what happens when you give someone the benefit of doubt for a tiny second. He’s unbearable.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Beau holds up his hands, like I’m a caged lion trying to escape. “You’re going to have to fill me in. I don’t even know this dude. Why are you so angry at him?”

I lean over the table to keep anyone else from hearing. I’m not sure why I even bother, considering Little Birdie has made it her new mission to create a public display of my life. In fact, I can’t help but worry that Little Birdie is somehow watching me right now. I resist the urge to check over my shoulder. “ He’s the reason Carlton and I are having problems.”

Beau frowns. “Since when are you having problems?”

“Don’t you read Little Birdie ?” I huff impatiently. “Actually, never mind. You’re only thirteen. Too young for all this drama. Do not read Little Birdie. All you need to know is that Zayne, our waiter, stole Carlton’s spot as the lead in the school play, and now everyone thinks I like him because we were in his room alone together to run lines!”

“But…” Beau pauses. “You like Carlton, right? Not Zayne?”

“That’s right.” I remember Carlton’s angry expression at lunch yesterday when he looked at Zayne after Little Birdie’s latest blast was sent out to the entire school. “And because he’s so mad, he’s been acting…different. He’s been saying things I know he doesn’t mean.”

“Like what?” Beau is no longer just an interested, but protective brother now. He leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. “What did he say?”

I shrug, attempting indifference. But deep down, what Carlton said bothered me, no matter how hard I try to pretend otherwise. “He said that Meredith should have gotten the part I was cast as. That I don’t deserve to play the lead.”

He crosses his arms. “Well, that’s not right. He needs to keep his mouth shut.”

I swallow back the knot in my throat. If I don’t blink, maybe the moisture in my eyes will dry out instead of spilling over.

Beau shifts in his seat. “I, uh, have to go to the bathroom.” As my brother, he cares. But I know how much others crying makes him uncomfortable. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod, grateful he’s giving me a moment to recollect myself. As soon as he’s gone, I cover my face with my hands. I take a deep breath and hold it.

“Did Carlton really tell you that?”

I peek through my hands. Zayne is holding mine and Beau’s drinks, and he’s frowning. “Tell me what?”

“That you don’t deserve your part in the play?”

I throw my hands into my lap, no longer caring if anyone sees me cry. “What? Like you don’t think I know it’s true? Of course, I don’t deserve my role. What Carlton said is the truth. That’s the worst part.” I release a frustrated sigh. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I was the only one who thought it. But now the whole school has eyes on me, and they all know it too!” The last part sounds hysterical as it comes out of my mouth. A few angry tears trickle down my face, and Zayne looks around with a scowl, as if contemplating how he ended up in this situation, or hoping someone else might magically step in. But it’s just him. With a low sigh, he sits down in Beau’s seat.

I remain silent, aside from a few reluctant sniffles.

“Why do you care what Carlton thinks?” His voice is flat. Serious.

I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Of course, I care what he thinks. The whole reason I joined the drama club in the first place was to impress him. I just want him to like me.” Ugh, Dot. Why on earth did you just admit that to Zayne of all people? He’s never going to let you live it down.

Zayne looks at my hands, balled up and fidgeting in my lap, and his eyes travel up until they collide with mine. “If he doesn’t already like you, then he’s a fool. Drama club or not.” The hardness in his tone makes me stare. At the firm set of his downturned lips, and his gentle eyes, in contrast with the rest of his demeanor. I’m momentarily locked in his gaze.

“That’s possibly the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I tell him.

He doesn’t say anything smart back like I expect him to, instead offering me a half-smile. “You’re worth more to the play than you think.”

I swallow, ignoring the thudding in my chest. Ignoring the way our eyes linking makes me feel like I gulped down caffeine.

“Am I interrupting something?” Beau asks. He lingers next to where Zayne is still sitting in his seat.

Zayne ascends from the chair like it burned him. He brushes off his purple apron, though I don’t see anything on it. “Sorry.” He takes a notebook out of his front pocket. “What can I get you?”

Beau sits and orders something to eat, and I numbly tell Zayne I want the pancakes. But I’m hardly paying attention. My mind is still stuck in the conversation we were having, and the lingering, unexpected warmth I’m still experiencing.

I stare blankly past Beau at a nearby table. There’s a cluster of adults seated, and with a jolt, I realize I recognize some of them. “Is that…” I squint, cutting off Zayne from answering whatever question Beau asked him about the food. “Is that Mr. Saltzman? And Ms. Powers?”

“Among other teachers from Fallbrook,” Zayne confirms with dismay. “They’re all regulars here.”

“What kind of place is this?” I ask aloud. “Everyone seems to bump into each other like it’s nothing.” Coming from such a small rural town, where I often bumped into people I knew, I expected the opposite to happen in the city.

“You get used to it after a while,” says Zayne. He clears his throat. “If that’s all, I’ll be putting your order in now.”

“Yeah,” says Beau. “I’m good. Dot?”

I nod, unable to meet Zayne’s eyes again at first. But then I force myself to, because his little pep talk actually might have helped. A little. Maybe, when he’s not too busy torturing Carlton, Zayne Silverman isn’t so bad after all.