He finally looks at me. “Oh, it isn’t?” He holds up his phone, showing me the photo of me sitting across from Zayne at the restaurant, our intimate shared moment that would have been lost in time, now forever recorded by one finger tapping a camera button on a phone. It looks like whoever snapped the photo was near the exit, as if they took it on their way out.
“Because what it looks like,” he says, bringing me back to the present, “is that you failed to mention you met up with Zayne, who happens to hate my guts.” He doesn’t drop the phone, though his point has been made. Just keeps holding it up to my face. “So please, Dot, tell me how this is not what it looks like.”
I grasp for words, my mind in fragments. Finally, I remember how to speak. “I didn’tmeet upwith him. It’s not like I specifically sought him out or something. I just took Beau out to eat, and Zayne was our waiter.”
He nods, but his grimace only deepens. “Right. Like you didn’t know he works there.”
“I didn’t!” The words come out helplessly.
Carlton grits his teeth. “Everyone knows that restaurant is his family’s. Come on, Dot. I know you’re not actually that stupid.”
My heart clenches. Just moments ago, Carlton’s arms were around me. We were kissing. How did those sweet moments turn into this? Just thinking about it gives me whiplash. “Maybe I should go.”
“Maybe you should. We can rehearse at school.”
We stare at each other wordlessly. I will him with my eyes to take it back, tell me he didn’t mean any of it. To laugh and brushthis argument off as a result of stress from trying to get into Underwood Academy.
But he doesn’t.
He just stares at me, his eyes like a curtain, closed against the blinding, unwelcome sun on a lazy morning.
So, I have no other choice but to turn around and leave.
Chapter Nine
It’s been a week since my argument with Carlton. In that time, I haven’t spoken to him, and he’s been pretending I don’t exist. I have to admit, his efforts are impressive. During play rehearsal, I accidentally trip over him when I go to sit at the stool where I’m supposed to pretend to play piano. He barely blinks.
Maybe if he put all this acting effort into the play instead of giving me the cold shoulder, he wouldn’t be so worried about getting accepted into his drama school.
Rue says her line in a perfect, British accent. “There’s a person here from Gimmerton who wishes to see you, Cathy.” Her face betrays no nerves at having the entire class watch us perform the scene. Behind us, a collection of tall, half-painted boards form a makeshift backdrop, but it’s still hard for me to pretend I’m on stage rather than in the drama classroom.
“What does he want?” I ask.
“I did not question him,” she replies.
Carlton’s voice comes out purposefully bored as he asks, “And why ever not?”
Zayne enters the scene then, appearing from behind one of the boards. I try my best to portray the right amount of shock and tension as I’m supposed to, and then throw my arms aroundCarlton’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens. It’s the last thing I want to do since we aren’t on the best terms right now, but it’s in the script. “Heathcliff has returned!”
“Well, don’t strangle me for that.” I note the slight gruffness in his voice that isn’t supposed to be there.“And try to be glad without being so absurd in front of the household. Heathcliff is nothing more than a runaway servant.”His gaze seems to land past me rather than directly on me.
We turn to Zayne in unison, and he fixes me with an intense, Heathcliff-y stare. My stomach does a little flip. I break away from Carlton’s embrace and go to him. He takes my hands. I take one of Zayne’s hands and place it into Carlton’s, like the blocking says to do. I pause for a moment too long, struggling to remember my line, and then say,“The two of you must be friends for my sake.”This is so awkward.
Zayne rips his hand out of Carlton’s and Carlton says,“Sit down, sir.”
“Cut,” Mr. Saltzman says.
My shoulders sag in relief. We all unconsciously take a step backwards, away from each other.
Mr. Saltzman makes a note on his clipboard. “That was excellent. But Carlton, try to show less disdain for Cathy, and make it clear your animosity is aimed toward Heathcliff.”
I glance at Carlton, trying not to let the hurt show on my face.Even the teacher noticed he’s mad at me.
Mr. Saltzman scratches his shiny head with the pen he’s holding. “Carlton, let’s go over some notes and then we’ll do it again, from the top.”
Carlton crosses the room to where Mr. Saltzman is sitting and the rest of us go back to our starting places. I return to my piano stool. Rue leans against one of the painted boards behind us. “Thank God we don’t have to make these sets ourselves,” she whispers to me. “It’s enough work just trying to memorize lines.”
I tilt my head. “Whodoesmake the sets?”
