“I’m not fond of my full name,” he says after too long.
“Why not go byAlex? Lex is, how to put this kindly? Almost pretentious.”
“My mother’s name was Alexa.”
My brow furrows.
“She left. When I was a kid, she decided she didn’t want to be a mother, so she divorced my father, made out like a bandit, and left.” A tight breath eases from his chest, even as he tries to keep himself neutral. “The worst part is my father filed for joint custody, but she didn’t ask for me at all. One way or another, he ended up with full, and I haven’t seen her since the news covered it.”
I watch him for a long moment—the way tears gather in his eyes but don’t fall—then I look down at my phone and send him a text so he’ll have my number. Reaching for the door handle, I step out of the front seat and don’t look back when I say, “I’ll see you at the audition,Alexander.”
Lex
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unknown: You’re lying.
I stare at the text while lying on my bed, remembering how Calypso walked across the street to the bench at the bus stop and fit herself right against the waiting sign without hesitating.
A stray tear slid down my cheek then, to catch on my wide grin.
How she knew with enough confidence to be so cold, I have no idea, but the thrill at seeing her message light up my phone while she left made it feel like I was in an action film, and she was the heroine walking away from an explosion.
My copy of our contract rests beside me, and I sit up to move the top page and find her signature at the bottom of the second. It’s a prim and proper thing, void of any girly-curly nonsense.
Simply,Calypso Kole.
I looked up her full name in last year’s yearbook when I made up the contract. Since we’re both in the same second year theater class, we’re both sophomores. What is her major, and why is she in theater if she’s so intent on staying out of sight?
Also, how have I missed her for an entire year?
Clearly, she’s good at remaining invisible.
Going back to my phone, I tap the message and add her as a new contact. First name: Sugar. Last name: Glider.
A brief laugh breezes from my lips.Sugar glider. Exotic and cute. Little, just like her. My very own creature, if only for a year.
Dragging my attention off my phone, where I’m searching through photos of flying squirrels to use one as her contact image, I remember that I’m not on break anymore. I have English homework. If I don’t keep up with my classes and my GPA drops, no doubt I’ll have to hear about how I’mbreakingour little dealfrom my father.
After securing such asweetcontract, I’m not ready to give up my place and go to his alma mater so I can learn how to be a crisp-suited businessman just like him. After everything I’ve done to become my own person, I’m not about to go right back to becoming his carbon copy.
At least not until the end of this year.
Vaguely, I wonder if he’d be proud of the successful “business deal” I’ve just accomplished, but I put that thought aside when I remember that English won’t identify itself.
And, also, that my father is never proud of anything.
~*~
“Mondays and Fridays?” I ask, stepping into the theater room.
Calypso slams her hands down, bringing the music to a grinding, screaming halt. Her head whips toward me, her giant blue eyes simmering with both terror and rage. “You have got to bekiddingme,” she spits, fumbling for her glasses and slipping them back onto her nose.
I push myself up onto Mr. D’plume’s desk, sitting off to the side behind her. “Don’t let me stop you. I figured since we knew each other now, it was okay to step in.” Stifling a yawn, I crack my neck. “Let me tell you, it’s been a beast waking up so early each day to figure out when the phantom piano player appears.”
“You havenotbeen stalking this classroom every morning.”
“I have, actually.”
