Shaking away the rest of my nerves, I regroup and dry my hands before making my way out of the bathroom. I glance over my shoulder at Misty as we move in opposite directions. “I’ll call you after the auditions. Want to come over and study for that chem test?”
She skips away, sending me an eyebrow waggle and a slew of kissy noises. “Yes! Keep me posted.”
Waving goodbye, I traipse toward the auditorium, smiling at my art teacher through the open door of one of the classrooms. Sweat dots my brow. I hate that I’m so nervous. For theBeauty and the Beastauditions, I was cool and collected. Confident. I nailed that audition and still fell short. Those feelings of inferiority and insecurity are now blazing through my chest in fiery waves of doubt, engulfing my courage.
Keep it together, Stevie.
As I turn the corner, commotion in one of the empty classrooms catches my attention. I slow down, peeking through the glass window and doing a double take when I spot Lex pacing the floor, his arms waving animatedly before he kicks a chair and it topples over.
My breath catches.
I should keep moving, keep walking, but something has me rooted to the squeaky tiles. I think it’s the look on his face. The conviction. The candidness oozing off him as he rehearses his lines.
It’s almost…tragic.
And it’s as disarming as the oceanic color of his eyes.
A lump swells in my throat as I watch his lips move, though I can’t make out the precise words. His brow is furrowed, his body brimming with tension. He rakes a hand through his hair, and then…
He falters.
Turns.
My eyes round when he looks right at me through the glass.
Our gazes lock, ensnared in a steel trap. I should walk away. Bolt from the doorway and pretend like he never saw me spying on him. But I can’t move. I’m frozen, pegged in place by the oddly tortured expression he sends me through the window.
It’s so out of place.
Boys with expensive blue eyes, golden hair, and polished boots shouldn’t look so sad. He emanates anger and bone-deep pain, not from the lines he’s rehearsing but from something else. Something I’ll probably never understand.
I can’t manage a smile. I can’t manage anything, not even a blink.
Lex finally breaks contact, dipping his attention to the floor, his throat working as he pivots away from me. The severed connection is enough to spark me back to life, and I inch backward, drinking in a shaky breath as I continue down the hallway toward the theater.
I’m still rattled when I push through the heavy door and enter the auditorium that’s now teeming with students. It’s a chaotic ten minutes while classmates prepare, reading lines to one another, some more distraught than others. Mr. Hamlin sends me a nod as I take a seat in one of the fold-down chairs.
I rehearse the audition song, “The Sparkling Diamond,” over and over in my head. When I saw this year’s show was going to beMoulin Rouge!, my eagerness heightened tenfold. It’s always been one of my favorite movies. The tragedy, the love, the absolute talent emitted from the actors. Watching that movie with my sister eight years ago made me want to do it too, so the moment the piece was announced, it felt like fate.
I needed to be Satine.
Wringing my hands together, I watch as students take the stage. A girlnamed Isabelle goes first. She does okay, nothing spectacular. A boy walks up the steps next—Micah—and he also performs decently. I swallow, tapping a foot up and down while trying to stifle my anxiety. Esther follows, and she totally botches the lyrics, her nerves getting the better of her. Empathy pinches my chest as my eyes follow her off the stage, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Then it’s Natalie’s turn. My biggest competitor.
As she gets situated, the main door plows open, echoing through the auditorium. Mr. Hamlin glances up, sighing with aggravation when everyone turns to look at Lex as he saunters into the room like he isn’t nearly thirty minutes late.
“Timeliness is certainly not your strong suit, Mr. Hall,” our director drawls. “Take a seat and no further disruptions, or you can see yourself out.”
“You got it, Ham.”
Gone is the boy I witnessed just moments ago, haunted and intensely focused. He’s been replaced by the Lex I’m all too familiar with—smug, unbothered, and inherently offensive. When he spots me sitting in the front row, I quickly look away, pinning my attention on Natalie as she twists her long black hair over her shoulder.
“Can I start?” she asks, clearing her throat.
Mr. Hamlin gestures at her with a hand motion. “Please, begin.”
She sings it beautifully.
