opens my door and makes as if to leave.
“Today wasn’t easy for me,” I say.
She hesitates, her hand still on the doorknob. “Oh yeah?”
“None of my friends hugged me, not even once.” We theater geeks touch a lot—hug, polka around the room, and smoosh cheeks together for pictures.
She shuts the door again and looks at me curiously. Maybe I’ve turned into a species of arachnid with multiple heads.
“They probably thought I would fondle their breasts,” I say.
“You could come clean,” she says.
“What if no one believes me?” This doesn’t seem like the right time to mention that I’m enjoying the role. Just a little.
“I have an idea.” Her eyes glitter with mischief like the old Eva. “Tell everyone that when you were making out with your girlfriend you made a discovery.”
I rise to the bait. “What did I discover?”
“Your girlfriend is actually a boy who dresses like a girl. For fun. So you’re hetero after all.”
I crack up because she’s being the old Eva and it feels good. She starts laughing too, but stops so suddenly that I have to wonder if she made a pact with herself never to giggle with me again.
“Just tell the truth,” she says in a hard voice.
“Forget it,” I say. “I’m not a coward like you.”
I feel a déjà vu coming on, at least that’s what Sierra would call it. Once Eva and I dyed our hair blue for a football game. Afterward she freaked and washed her hair for two hours straight. We missed the game. She wanted me to wash mine out too before Mom got home, but I said no. I told her I wasn’t a coward like her. The shiner she gave me that day matched my hair perfectly.
This time she exits my room like I don’t exist. I prefer her fists to her silence.
Chapter
8
T hursday morning
before the first bell, the theater geeks—minus Eva—gather in front of the Barn waiting for the long-anticipated playbill. Carmen bumps my shoulder hard like I’m in her way. Lately she’s the pimple on the butt of my life. I move over to a spot near Andie where I can study her eyeliner. She has thick lines of indigo around her eyes, and she brushed her lids with two shades of gold. She could be an Egyptian goddess. Note to self: Buy makeup after school.
Jonathan stands apart from the crowd. “Hi,” I say to Andie. “Let’s go talk to the new guy.”
“Let’s not,” she says.
I drag her over anyway so she can be my shield. “Meet Eyeliner Andie. She’s my twin sister,” I say. Jonathan looks confused. “Fraternal twins.” I turn to Andie. “Did you know that Jonathan hosts his own MTV show?”
He doesn’t run away from me this time, and I am grateful.
“Don’t look so worried,” Andie says, shifting into rare social-butterfly mode, though her ripped jeans say more wind-battered moth. “Roz always acts like this.”
I take offense. Andie barely knows me.
“I hear you’re into music,” she says to him.
“I do a little guitar.”
Within seconds, they’re gabbing like old friends. Worse still, they don’t include me in their conversation. Before I figure out what to do next, Sapphire emerges from the Barn. The throng falls silent. She passes around a box of tissues.
“Take one just in case,” she says. “And be nice.”
She tapes the playbill to the door, and we all rush in to look. Seeing my name at the top of the list in black and white fills my heart with whipped cream. It’s official. Before I can do a victory dance, I notice Carmen’s tragic face. Two puddles of black sludge are forming under her eyes. Despite the butt pimple thing, I feel sorry for her.
“You should’ve gotten the lead,” I say. The insides of my cheeks stick to my teeth when I lie. I sling my arm around her shoulders to show I care. She shakes me off.
“It’s just an arm,” I say. “Not a python.”
She smears the wet mascara around her face and joins the group paying homage to Bryan. I follow her. He got the lead, Orlando, who happens to be
“Today wasn’t easy for me,” I say.
She hesitates, her hand still on the doorknob. “Oh yeah?”
“None of my friends hugged me, not even once.” We theater geeks touch a lot—hug, polka around the room, and smoosh cheeks together for pictures.
She shuts the door again and looks at me curiously. Maybe I’ve turned into a species of arachnid with multiple heads.
“They probably thought I would fondle their breasts,” I say.
“You could come clean,” she says.
“What if no one believes me?” This doesn’t seem like the right time to mention that I’m enjoying the role. Just a little.
“I have an idea.” Her eyes glitter with mischief like the old Eva. “Tell everyone that when you were making out with your girlfriend you made a discovery.”
I rise to the bait. “What did I discover?”
“Your girlfriend is actually a boy who dresses like a girl. For fun. So you’re hetero after all.”
I crack up because she’s being the old Eva and it feels good. She starts laughing too, but stops so suddenly that I have to wonder if she made a pact with herself never to giggle with me again.
“Just tell the truth,” she says in a hard voice.
“Forget it,” I say. “I’m not a coward like you.”
I feel a déjà vu coming on, at least that’s what Sierra would call it. Once Eva and I dyed our hair blue for a football game. Afterward she freaked and washed her hair for two hours straight. We missed the game. She wanted me to wash mine out too before Mom got home, but I said no. I told her I wasn’t a coward like her. The shiner she gave me that day matched my hair perfectly.
This time she exits my room like I don’t exist. I prefer her fists to her silence.
Chapter
8
T hursday morning
before the first bell, the theater geeks—minus Eva—gather in front of the Barn waiting for the long-anticipated playbill. Carmen bumps my shoulder hard like I’m in her way. Lately she’s the pimple on the butt of my life. I move over to a spot near Andie where I can study her eyeliner. She has thick lines of indigo around her eyes, and she brushed her lids with two shades of gold. She could be an Egyptian goddess. Note to self: Buy makeup after school.
Jonathan stands apart from the crowd. “Hi,” I say to Andie. “Let’s go talk to the new guy.”
“Let’s not,” she says.
I drag her over anyway so she can be my shield. “Meet Eyeliner Andie. She’s my twin sister,” I say. Jonathan looks confused. “Fraternal twins.” I turn to Andie. “Did you know that Jonathan hosts his own MTV show?”
He doesn’t run away from me this time, and I am grateful.
“Don’t look so worried,” Andie says, shifting into rare social-butterfly mode, though her ripped jeans say more wind-battered moth. “Roz always acts like this.”
I take offense. Andie barely knows me.
“I hear you’re into music,” she says to him.
“I do a little guitar.”
Within seconds, they’re gabbing like old friends. Worse still, they don’t include me in their conversation. Before I figure out what to do next, Sapphire emerges from the Barn. The throng falls silent. She passes around a box of tissues.
“Take one just in case,” she says. “And be nice.”
She tapes the playbill to the door, and we all rush in to look. Seeing my name at the top of the list in black and white fills my heart with whipped cream. It’s official. Before I can do a victory dance, I notice Carmen’s tragic face. Two puddles of black sludge are forming under her eyes. Despite the butt pimple thing, I feel sorry for her.
“You should’ve gotten the lead,” I say. The insides of my cheeks stick to my teeth when I lie. I sling my arm around her shoulders to show I care. She shakes me off.
“It’s just an arm,” I say. “Not a python.”
She smears the wet mascara around her face and joins the group paying homage to Bryan. I follow her. He got the lead, Orlando, who happens to be
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