She clasps Calypso’s hand. “You are okay?”
“It’s nothing new.” Calypso just shrugs, like it’s nothing at all.
Rebecca’s lips purse. “That doesn’t tell me whether or not you’re okay.”
“I thought you might be out here.” Jason’s voice distracts me from Calypso’s conversation, and I turn to find him leaving Grazioso Hall. He lifts a hand in greeting, completely oblivious to everything that happened just yesterday.
We descend into a simple conversation about finals, nothing heavy or important, and just before I can almost buy into Calypso’s expression of everything being fine and normal, I hear her voice with stark clarity.
“I’m going to talk to her tomorrow. We’ll see what happens then.”
Calypso
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agatha stares at me from across the auditorium, smug and proud and a dozen other adjectives that all really just culminate as one thing. Afemale dog.
I regard her coolly while standing beside Lex, then put my attention on Mr. D’plume who is “just checking in” and “making sure everything is all right.” It’s weird, having so many people caring, noticing that something isn’t right, checking in withme, like I’m not the problem. It’s validating on a level I didn’t know could exist.
Lex is talking for me, and I don’t mind. Everything he’s saying is accurate anyway, but at long last, Mr. D’plume fixes me with a stare. “You’ve not said a word.” His brows knit, more concern showing in his eyes than even I’ve seen the whole school year. “I understand if you’re not up to being a part of this. Just let me know. It won’t affect your grade.”
A soft laugh escapes. It feels hollow leaving my throat. “I was a part of this before I auditioned, and you know that.”
He nods once, a hint of a smile mixing with the determination sparking in his eyes. “Very well, Calypso. Then the show must go on.”
I will not be defeated. Not this time.
I’ve already put in every effort. I’m not just scribbling little pictures, all bright and oblivious, saying I want to be an artist. I’ve learned music. I’ve studied plays. I’ve torn apart every single line and dissected every subject, predicate, and clause.
I’ve put in the effort. And effort is what makes the difference between a hobby and a passion. No one is going to take this away. No matter what.
~*~
Trying to cling to the determination I held onto yesterday, I walk farther away from where Lex has parked in the street outside my house. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can be over it and find my way back tookay. I can’t let whatever happens now—or whatever might happen next week if I don’t address itnow—cripple me days before the play.
Agatha won’t win. Not again. Not this time. This time, I won’t be subdued.
Her words have held me back for far too long.
With fear licking at the back of my mind and making me almost lightheaded, I pass Mom’s car on my way up the drive and make it to the front door. I texted that I was coming. I didn’t get a reply.
Swallowing hard, I push inside, and freeze.
Plastering the living room floor are papers. Stacks of papers. Sheets and sheets strewn about. Every one marked with words and notes and lines. Sitting among them is my mother, and her gaze drags up to me.
Accusing.
Accusing even though she’s the one…
Her lips purse. “Lex was right.” She nods at the pages, and I don’t know what to do with that statement. What does she mean? Lex was right? Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a good thing in her voice.
“It’s all dated,” she continues. “This didn’t just start last fall.”
I choke on my words, barely forcing them past my lips. My voice comes out small and broken. “You went through my things?”
“What was I supposed to do?” she spits. “You left withthat boy. You wouldn’t answer my texts. I needed something to explain what I’d apparently so drastically missed.”
I press my lips together, and a thousand lines I’ve written about her, or dad, or everything come streaming through myskull. I came to offer her the truth. I didn’t expect she would hunt it down herself, then put all the most raw pieces of it on display.
