Yeah. Her play sold out a theater. Yeah. I’m dang proud of her.
Agatha’s grating voice sounds in tittering tones. “Worried this cast won’t do your play justice, Mr. D’plume?”
If her stunts didn’t lead to my curling up with Calypso every night for over a week, eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with someone, and actually making an effort to have brief conversations with my father, I may have had the energy to be more upset. Instead, I can almost commend her on her determination.
Mr. D’plume’s eyes roll toward her, not even hiding annoyance. “No.” He moves on without flinching. “If any of your costumes need final adjustments, you have literally hours to take care of it. What time will you be getting here Saturday night?”
In unison, we all say, “Five.”
Mr. D’plume nods. “Hair, makeup, clothes, jitters, and miccheck. We’ll be collaborating with some seniors from our local community college for hair and makeup. They get credit; we get to look like philanthropists who in reality just spent all our budget on your clothes. Before anyone asks, scissors will not be involved, so chill.” He pauses, going through some sort of mental checklist. “I think that’s everything.” He sighs. “I’ll be around for another hour going through reports I don’t know why I assigned, so interrupt me if you dare.”
When Mr. D’plume returns to his seat and lifts a stack of papers like they’re the bane of his existence, Calypso twirls toward me, her braids and flared dress spinning. The thing reaches only just past her knees and makes her look like a thief or a pirate, or some other fierce girl from a period when pirates roamed the sea and thieves the land. Compared to her, my linen shirt, slacks, and cape are boringly simple.
“Two days,” she whispers, like she has a secret.
I drop my forehead against hers. “Two days.”
“Are we fancy enough that we’ll be picked up by Broadway?”
“We are,” I assure. “This school? Possibly not.”
“Darn.” The playful hint in her eyes turns somber, and her smile falls. “After this, it’s operation convince your dad you’re coming back next year.”
“Or it’s operation use this summer to become a millionaire on my own. I know.” She’s sprinkled the sentiment into our casual conversations, even while her world fell apart. There’s nothing for me to do other than agree and let her plots saturate my mindset. After everything that has happened with her mom, there’s no way I’m going to leave her with another big change to navigate.
More than that, this is what I want to do. Nothing more. Justthis. And the endless things that come with it.
It’s the culmination of every art we have to express ourselves with.
Isn’t that right, my little sugar glider?
Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?
Calypso
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I won’t commend you.” Agatha’s snide voice is becoming all too usual.
I sigh, pinning her with a weary look. I told Lex I had to go to the bathroom before we headed home. I should have known better than to let my emotional support animal away from me while I’m still in public.
Public is scary.
Even if Agatha is quickly becoming nothing more than an annoyance. Pathetic, almost. I faced my mother directly. What does she really think she’s going to do now?
I pass her, heading down the hall toward the doors out. Lex is waiting for me. I don’t care what she has to say. I’m over being scared. I’m over pretending to be scared. I’m doing my play, and whatever happens afterward—whether the crowds applauds or a dull silence meets me—I’ll deal with it and step into my next story.
“You’ve resorted to ignoring me?” Agatha’s voice pinches, and she trots after me.
What does she want me to say?
She grabs my shoulder, dragging me around to face her.
I scowl, and she flinches, prying off her hand. “You think you’re justsoomuch better than me, don’t you?” she hisses. “You’ve always thought you were better than me.”
What is it with people and accusing others of their own crimes?
I can almost pity her.
