Flipping the Script by Paula Chase

Michael, invading his space, boldly asserting his point. “Do you know how many people would be, like, creaming themselves if Zora had started a program based on their talent?”
    â€œDon’t hate ’cause your jealous,” Michael said, attempting to lighten the mood.
    Rob rolled his eyes. “Hells yes I’m jealous.” He folded his arms, making his well-sculpted biceps pop. “I have to try out for my spot this year and Zora’s practically handing you a scholarship.”
    Michael frowned. “Hardly. I still have to apply.”
    â€œDude, she went to the school’s board of trustees and asked them to start a fashion program ’cause of your designs.” He shook his head, as if the whole idea were too outrageous to comprehend. “For real, what are the odds they’d turn you down?”
    Refusing to look up, Michael shrugged. His neck burned from a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The way Rob framed it, he was the world’s biggest idiot for even uttering he wasn’t down for applying. Michael had already explained to Rob that it wasn’t that easy, but Rob wouldn’t let it go.
    Michael envied how openly passionate Rob was about theatre. Michael loved fashion as much, but he couldn’t go around rhapsodizing about it 24/7 in the halls of DRB High or even around the clique ... especially not around the clique, JZ specifically.
    It wasn’t a big deal, really. Michael had a life outside of Bay Dra-da. He couldn’t help it if Rob couldn’t say the same.
    Still, his seesawing doubts forced his hands to move faster for the phantom pins.
    â€œWhen your peeps at college, what are you gonna do?” Rob pretended to flip through the pages of a huge book. His eyes mocked wistful reflection. “Reminisce over your portfolio in between your shifts at Subway?”
    Michael sidestepped Rob and squatted, checking the dress’s hem for the fifth time. The haughty hitch in Rob’s voice grated like nails on chalkboard.
    Normally, Michael was equally as balls-to-the-walls honest with people. He just wasn’t in the mood for it tonight, even though Rob was his boy.
    It was his job to be straight with Michael. And dude never slept on that job, not once in the three years they’d been friends. They’d been tight ever since Michael ran his very first errand for Madame, dropping a package of patterns to Madame Zora, just a few weeks after getting the gig with Bay Dra-da. He’d been wandering the Player’s cavernous auditorium for ten minutes when Rob took mercy on him and walked him to Zora’s office.
    It was the first time Michael had met another African American dude, his age, in Del Rio Bay into theatre. It had been like discovering a long-lost family member, and they’d clicked immediately. They didn’t disagree often, but when they did Michael received a good, old-fashioned heap of his own medicine in Rob’s practical scolding.
    Unable to stall any longer, Michael stood up. He scowled, snapping his answer to hide the fear clouding his mind.
    â€œTrust, I’m not putting anybody else first.” He elbowed Rob not so gently in the chest and smiled weakly.“And you’ll be the first person trying to get the hookup during my Subway shift. So don’t trip.” He shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I told you I don’t want to spend my summer running back and forth to DC.” He took a deep breath and found the courage to face Rob’s angry disdain, infusing commanding annoyance into his words. “And I don’t want to spend my senior year at another high school. That’s wack.”
    â€œWhy? You’d already know me, Maribel and Ferdinand.” Rob’s face hardened waiting for Michael to challenge. When Mike kept silent, Rob traced the shape of the finished baby-doll dress, barely touching it. His voice was all awe and respect. “Even if you