Carlton snorts. “Who wrote this lame script?”
“And what does wuthering even mean, anyway?” Mabel mutters.
“Roaring,” someone says. We all glance up to find Zayne looming over us. “It means roaring. Basically.” He’s looking at me, which makes me shift my gaze to the floor. I hope he doesn’t bring up me going to his house last night to run lines. Especially since I insulted him before I all but stormed out and wasted both our time. He knows I lied to Carlton about being there, too. Talking about it now would be excellent revenge on his part.
Carlton crosses his arms as he regards Zayne. “What do you want?”
I stiffen, prepared for him to bring up last night. But he just points over his shoulder. “Mr. Saltzman wants us next door while everyone else learns the next scene.”
Carlton’s face reddens. “What about me? I’m playing the other love interest to Catherine. Shouldn’t I be there too?”
Zayne squints at him. “Like I said. He only wants me and Dot. Everyone else stays here.”
I glance at Carlton, but he won’t meet my gaze. With a sigh, I get up and follow Zayne, who is now walking away. Speed-walking, in fact. When I finally reach him, I snap, “You could have been nicer to him.”
Zayne stops walking to shoot me an incredulous look. “Because he’s the pinnacle of delight. Right?” He resumes pace.
“That’s not fair.” I catch up to him so he’s no longer walking ahead of me. “He’s going through a lot, what with you stealing his part.”
He snorts. “Right.”
“Besides, I’ve decided to offer you a truce.”
We’re back in the classroom we auditioned in. It’s dark inside, all the blinds shut, and Zayne walks around to open them. “A truce?”
“Yes.” It bothers me that he’s not totally paying attention to what I’m saying for some reason, and instead is more focused on opening all the windows. “A truce.” I wait until he’s done, until he’s standing right in front of me.
“What kind of truce, Dot?” He’s standing close enough that I can see my reflection in his eyes, flecked with hints of gold. I can smell the peppermint on his breath as he speaks. It makes me dizzy.
“I’ll stop wasting time and commit to the play once and for all on one condition.”
He arches a brow. “And what is that?”
“You have to promise to stop trying to sabotage Carlton. He really wants to get into Underwood Academy, and I can’t have you screwing things up for him.”
Zayne crosses his arms and scowls. “It’s not me you have to worry about.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’ve had enough of it.” It's bad enough Carlton's been in a bad mood because of Zayne. The last thing I need is for him to try to pit me and Carlton against each other.
Zayne sighs, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the tension. “If you say so.” He grabs his script from the desk he placed it on before he started opening the windows. Light streams into the classroom now in long rectangles, illuminating our faces. “Let’s get started.” He flips through his book until he finds our first scene together. He pauses on it, reading the first line to himself in a muted tone. Then to me, he explains, “You’re playing a ghost here, and you’re haunting me. So, I’m calling out to you for you to continue.”
Anticipation flutters in my stomach. “Okay.” And then I pause. “To continue? Why would you want me to keep haunting you?”
He blinks. “You’re the ghost of Cathy, Heathcliff’s love. Haven’t you readWuthering Heights?”
I shrug. “I’ve read the summary.”
“Alright.” Zayne sighs. “Just do like it says on the script then.”
I nod. He begins acting out the scene, and since I don’t have any lines yet, I just watch him.
“Delightful company,”he mutters, as Heathcliff, to a character named Lockwood, even though he isn’t in the room with us. “Take the candle, and go where you please. Away with you! I’ll come in two minutes!
I watch as he kneels and pantomimes opening a window. It’s pretty impressive, actually. Zayne arranges his features into that of pure, unadulterated anguish, and his eyes gloss over. For a moment, I’m alarmed, thinking he hurt himself when he kneeled down or something.
“Come in! Come in! Cathy, do come,” he sobs, and with a jolt, I realize he’s still in character.
He’s still acting, and I’m still staring, when I should be flitting across the room in front of him like a ghost.
