Beau frowns. “Since when are you having problems?”
“Don’t you readLittle Birdie?” I huff impatiently. “Actually, never mind. You’re only thirteen. Too young for all this drama. Do not readLittle Birdie.All you need to know is that Zayne, our waiter, stole Carlton’s spot as the lead in the school play, and now everyone thinks I like him because we were in his room alone together to run lines!”
“But…” Beau pauses. “You like Carlton, right? Not Zayne?”
“That’s right.” I remember Carlton’s angry expression at lunch yesterday when he looked at Zayne after Little Birdie’s latest blast was sent out to the entire school. “And because he’sso mad, he’s been acting…different. He’s been saying things I know he doesn’t mean.”
“Like what?” Beau is no longer just an interested, but protective brother now. He leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. “What did he say?”
I shrug, attempting indifference. But deep down, what Carlton said bothered me, no matter how hard I try to pretend otherwise. “He said that Meredith should have gotten the part I was cast as. That I don’t deserve to play the lead.”
He crosses his arms. “Well, that’s not right. He needs to keep his mouth shut.”
I swallow back the knot in my throat. If I don’t blink, maybe the moisture in my eyes will dry out instead of spilling over.
Beau shifts in his seat. “I, uh, have to go to the bathroom.” As my brother, he cares. But I know how much others crying makes him uncomfortable. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod, grateful he’s giving me a moment to recollect myself. As soon as he’s gone, I cover my face with my hands. I take a deep breath and hold it.
“Did Carlton really tell you that?”
I peek through my hands. Zayne is holding mine and Beau’s drinks, and he’s frowning. “Tell me what?”
“That you don’t deserve your part in the play?”
I throw my hands into my lap, no longer caring if anyone sees me cry. “What? Like you don’t think I know it’s true? Of course, I don’t deserve my role. What Carlton said is the truth. That’s the worst part.” I release a frustrated sigh. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I was the only one who thought it. But now the whole school has eyes on me, andthey all know it too!”The last part sounds hysterical as it comes out of my mouth. A few angry tears trickle down my face, and Zayne looks around with a scowl, as if contemplating how he ended up in this situation, or hopingsomeone else might magically step in. But it’s just him. With a low sigh, he sits down in Beau’s seat.
I remain silent, aside from a few reluctant sniffles.
“Why do you care what Carlton thinks?” His voice is flat. Serious.
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Of course, I care what he thinks. The whole reason I joined the drama club in the first place was to impress him. I just want him to like me.”Ugh, Dot. Why on earth did you just admit that to Zayne of all people? He’s never going to let you live it down.
Zayne looks at my hands, balled up and fidgeting in my lap, and his eyes travel up until they collide with mine. “If he doesn’t already like you, then he’s a fool. Drama club or not.” The hardness in his tone makes me stare. At the firm set of his downturned lips, and his gentle eyes, in contrast with the rest of his demeanor. I’m momentarily locked in his gaze.
“That’s possibly the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say anything smart back like I expect him to, instead offering me a half-smile. “You’re worth more to the play than you think.”
I swallow, ignoring the thudding in my chest. Ignoring the way our eyes linking makes me feel like I gulped down caffeine.
“Am I interrupting something?” Beau asks. He lingers next to where Zayne is still sitting in his seat.
Zayne ascends from the chair like it burned him. He brushes off his purple apron, though I don’t see anything on it. “Sorry.” He takes a notebook out of his front pocket. “What can I get you?”
Beau sits and orders something to eat, and I numbly tell Zayne I want the pancakes. But I’m hardly paying attention. My mind is still stuck in the conversation we were having, and the lingering, unexpected warmth I’m still experiencing.
I stare blankly past Beau at a nearby table. There’s a cluster of adults seated, and with a jolt, I realize I recognize some of them. “Is that…” I squint, cutting off Zayne from answering whatever question Beau asked him about the food. “Is that Mr. Saltzman? And Ms. Powers?”
“Among other teachers from Fallbrook,” Zayne confirms with dismay. “They’re all regulars here.”
“What kind of place is this?” I ask aloud. “Everyone seems to bump into each other like it’s nothing.” Coming from such a small rural town, where I often bumped into people I knew, I expected the opposite to happen in the city.
“You get used to it after a while,” says Zayne. He clears his throat. “If that’s all, I’ll be putting your order in now.”
“Yeah,” says Beau. “I’m good. Dot?”
I nod, unable to meet Zayne’s eyes again at first. But then I force myself to, because his little pep talk actually might have helped. A little. Maybe, when he’s not too busy torturing Carlton, Zayne Silverman isn’t so bad after all.
