Bellflower Creek, Pennsylvania

Skylar Nash chewed on her thumbnail as she drove down the campus road toward the theater. Of all the days to run late…

Her boyfriend unwrapped a piece of gum. “Want one?”

“No.” If she walked into the theater with gum in her mouth, Patrick would have her removing gum from under the campus café tables for hours. Another round of jitters ran through her. Patrick Merrow was a great drama teacher, but he was a hard man to figure. He had endless patience when helping students improve their performances but no mercy for their being more than a few minutes late to class. He allowed some leeway for students coming from classes on the far side of the campus, but she didn’t have that excuse. Surely he wouldn’t give Brittany the part Skylar had worked so hard to earn just because she was late on the day he intended to make the announcements.

Cody leaned across her, looking at the gauges on the dashboard. “You’re out of gas, and I’m out of money.”

With one hand on the wheel, she dug into the pocket of her jeans shorts. Where was the cash her mom had given her this morning? She felt the edge of the paper money and wriggled it out of the tight fit. “This won’t get much, but it’s all I have for now.”

Cody glanced at the fifteen dollars. “Thanks.” He tucked it into his shirt pocket. “I get paid tomorrow, and I’ll make this up to you then.”

“Don’t worry about it. We both use the car, and we both put gas in it.” Her mom wasn’t a fan of Skylar lending her car, but her dad had given her the used car, and she was free to do with it what she wanted. One of the perks of parents not living together is that each allowed things the other didn’t. And she usually knew how to play that game to her advantage. Actually, she should be better at it than she was since her experience pretty much covered her life span.

“What time are you done today?” Cody asked.

“Hard to tell. Last class is over at two, and we don’t have a performance tonight since it’s Labor Day weekend, but we have to hit the pavement and sell tickets for the last performances next weekend. No matter where Patrick sends us to sell tickets, we’ll be done by nine.”

“It still seems weird that you call the drama teacher by his first name.”

“Everyone does. It’s what he wants.”

Cody played with the empty gum wrapper. “Can you hitch a ride with someone?”

“Of course.” She had gone to high school with several of the people now attending this community college. Friends who would give her a lift were easy to come by, and she had bought lunch for others lots of times, so someone would buy her one today, since she’d just given away all her cash.

He rolled his eyes. “My bad. I forget what it’s like for the local star.”

She reached across the console and pinched his cheek mockingly. “Better get used to it.” She laughed at her joke, but they both knew she had plans.

This community college was a steppingstone. She’d been a part of the theater here since she was a sophomore in high school with dual enrollment. Her goal was to be accepted to the Carnegie Mellon University, School of Drama—specifically to study acting and musical theater. If she could just get in, she would be able to fulfill her every dream. The reason she had yet to apply irked her.

After studying music and acting since she was young, in hopes of going to CMU, she’d been caught breaking one of her parents’ arbitrary rules when she was a senior in high school. If they’d known all she’d done, they would have had her handcuffed to a chaperon. Because of what they had discovered, her dad refused to pay for her to go away to college, insisting she live at home to attend school until they were confident she was mature enough to handle moving out.

That was bull. If she lived at home throughout all of college, she was never going to see things as her dad wanted her to.

One would think a man as into the arts as he was—teaching voice and music on the college level—would be a little more relaxed about popping an occasional pill or smoking some pot. He probably had been at one point. Since she didn’t really know him, she could only guess at such things.

Unfortunately, when it came to substance use, her mother fully agreed with her dad. Her mom had even leveled a look at her and said, “We are free to choose, but we are not free from the consequences of our choices.”

Some parents were chill. Hers were not.

Shaking free of her meandering thoughts, she drove toward the drama building. The parking lot at the side entrance of the theater was full, a clear reminder of how late she was. She hoped Patrick was too busy dealing with the sound system, lights, or costumes to notice.

It wasn’t her fault that just as she stepped out her door with plenty of time to get here, Cody called, saying his car had broken down. He couldn’t afford to miss another day of work, even if he did detest his job as stock boy at a clothing store in the local mall.

She put the car in Park and opened her door. “I gotta go before Patrick cuts my solo during the last performances next weekend.”

Cody held up her backpack and wagged it back and forth. “Want this?”

“Yeah.” She grabbed it, but he didn’t let go.

He grinned, a sort of cynical smile that also hinted of mischief. “I’m holding out for a kiss.”

“Uh, not this morning, you aren’t.” She tugged hard, snatching it free from his hands. “There’s no time.” Once his lips were on hers, she would linger too long. She raised her eyebrows in quick succession. “Rain check.” She hopped out of the car and ran toward the theater building.

Cody whistled, one long, shrill sound that equaled calling her name. When she turned, he was out of the car, going to the driver’s side. She didn’t have any time to lose. Hadn’t she given him enough of her morning already?

He pulled the tip of a sandwich baggie out of his jeans pocket with one hand and held up fingers to his mouth as if smoking the joint. “Should I save this until we’re together tonight?”

She shook her head. She mouthed the word no and extended her hand in the air as if to say, What are you thinking? How many times did she need to tell him this?

Cody nodded. He was looking for permission to smoke it at will, and she’d given it to him. Since being caught with pot at seventeen, she had to pee in a cup for drug testing at the whim of her mom and dad. Drug testing. Skylar hated it, but she had no choice—not if she wanted her dad to pay for tuition to Carnegie.

When her mom had found the stash three years ago, she’d threatened to call the police. Skylar talked her out of it by agreeing to give up her current boyfriend, who had given her the drugs and paraphernalia, and to take a drug test at any point after that. With the amount of pot and paraphernalia her mom found, Skylar would’ve been charged with intent to distribute. As a first-time offender, she probably would have been given probation, but it would’ve blown all chances of getting into CMU.

Skylar still didn’t understand why her mom considered it such a big deal. Recreational use was legalized in some states, and Skylar was sure the Pennsylvania laws would catch up with reality in a few years. In the meantime she wouldn’t let any archaic laws ruin her chance at a future.

Besides, when she wanted to get high, pot was not what she looked for. As to other drugs, well, she was glad her parents hadn’t required a drug test in nearly a year. They simply asked her if she’d smoked any pot, and she was able to answer honestly—absolutely not. None. They never asked about any other substance.

She hurried into the building, but she didn’t hear the usual clamoring voices. That could only mean one thing—class had already started—and it set her nerves on edge. How many nights’ sleep had she missed because she longed for the lead in the next play?

A big show was planned for the fall, commemorating the college’s fiftieth anniversary. Patrick was staging Oklahoma, using alumni from productions over the last few decades as well as the current drama students. If Skylar played Laurey, her name would appear in all the publicity and alumni write-ups, which would add some weight to her application to CMU. She’d heard that the alumni cast included a CEO and a nonprofit board member or two. If she could work with them on the musical, she could probably get a letter of recommendation for CMU. This role was her best shot at garnering serious attention.

Easing open the door to the auditorium, she peered inside. Sure enough, everyone was in the theater seats watching the stage as Patrick talked with his roster in hand. Only the first few rows of chairs had students, and that’s where she needed to get without being noticed. She tiptoed down the side and slipped into a chair, hoping to remain unseen.

Patrick didn’t glance her way as he continued talking, and after a minute she released a breath, relaxing.

“So”—Patrick held up the iPad in his hand—“we’ve had one venue cancellation due to the scheduling mix-up, so next Saturday night’s performance will be the last for the summertime drama team.”

The room vibrated with loud applause, whistles, and shouting.

Patrick gave them a minute to settle. “I appreciate everyone’s patience and loyalty as the weeks dragged on just a tiny bit”—he held his thumb and index finger an inch apart—“past the usual cutoff date.”

Some of her friends groaned in protest, and others laughed at his joke. The fall semester had begun two weeks ago, and yet they were still performing the summer venues. The summer troupe traveled from place to place to perform, and everything got fouled up when the scheduler had double-booked them. In order to perform at each place as promised, they’d had to reschedule the dates and then continue performing past the start-up of the fall semester.

“All right.” Patrick sighed, sounding unusually down and tired. “Let’s get this practice under way.”

“Hey, Patrick?” Brittany held up her hand, and Skylar slunk back in her cushioned chair, waiting for the girl to say something useless. It was part of her trademark.

“Yes?”

“It’s Thursday, the first week in September, right?”

Some of the kids laughed.

Brittany knew what day it was. Not only had she and Skylar been waiting since last spring to learn which of them would be the lead in the next musical, but everyone in this room wanted to know what part they’d earned.

Brad held up his cell phone, showing her the time of day in bold numbers. “You need us to let you know if it’s morning or night, too?” he asked.

Brittany wanted to play Laurey every bit as much as Skylar, and the girl was really good. An airhead but a talented one.

Brittany didn’t blink at the heckling. She stood. “Well.” Her short brown hair bounced as she moved with great animation. She reminded Skylar of Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, and similar to Elle she performed every sentence with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of an excited cheerleader. “If Patrick isn’t finished yet, we shouldn’t rush him, right?”

Did she think her tactics fooled anyone? The scarecrow in Oz came to mind. “If I only had a brain.” Patrick looked confused by Brittany’s question, which was odd, because the man usually gave an answer before the question was asked.

Brad propped his foot on the seat in front of him. “She wants you to say who got what part for the next musical.”

“Oh.” Patrick glanced at Skylar, and she realized if he knew where she was sitting, he’d known when she came in. “Uh, yeah, well, my plan is to put a list on the corkboard outside my room later today.”

That’s not how he’d done it in the past. He’d made the announcements from the stage. And why had he looked at Skylar when Brittany asked that question? Brittany wasn’t as good an actor, and sometimes her voice got pitchy. On the other hand, Skylar had been late to a few practices, and she’d missed her singing cue twice during the summer.

Patrick lowered the iPad. “If there isn’t anything else, let’s get started.”

Everyone meandered in different directions until they were scattered. The lighting and sound people went to their spots. The stage managers and stagehands began shifting props. Skylar put the strap of her backpack on her shoulder and fell in behind the other actors, heading for the stairs that led backstage.

Patrick waited at the top of the steps, speaking to people as they passed. He caught Skylar’s eye and motioned for her. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

Her heart picked up its pace. “Yeah, sure.” She broke rank with the others and followed him out of the theater. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Let’s talk in my office.” They stepped into his tiny space, and he closed the door. “This isn’t about being late, although maybe I should add that to the list.”

The list? There was a list? Had she done stuff she was unaware of? She put her backpack on the floor at her feet and sat in the uncomfortable chair across from him. Despite trying not to fidget, she bounced one leg up and down in quick succession. Outside of the theater it wasn’t like her to get nervous. Her mode of operation was cavalier, which was a huge part of what got her in trouble. Deadlines for projects and studying didn’t matter until it was too late to do anything about them.

He pulled a folder out of a small desk drawer and laid it on the desk. “You know I believe in your talent. You’ve been a part of this team since you were in high school, and you’re seriously one of the best I’ve worked with. Because of that and because of all your mom does to help out, I’ve cut you too much slack.”

“No you haven’t.” Without even a pause her mind raced with rationalizations and possible angles for changing his mind. “I work hard, and I have some flaws that need to be ironed out. That’s why you cut me some slack. I’ll work even harder. I promise.”

He rapped his fingers on the folder, and she stared at it. Whatever it held, she wished she could run it through the paper shredder.

“You weren’t honest with me, Skylar.” Patrick tapped the folder with his index finger.

Had she lied to him? She didn’t recall doing so, although in her get-out-of-trouble mode, she tended to say whatever it took to convince the person. “I don’t understand.”

“At the end of the spring semester, you told me you were going to take summer classes that would fix the issue with your GPA.”

“That wasn’t a lie. I have proof that I attended school all summer.” The last time she’d checked her grades, which was online two weeks ago, right after her summer finals were posted, her grades looked good. “I passed my two summer classes with a high B in each.” And it hadn’t been easy, especially considering how grueling the summer theater program was this year. “That pulled my GPA above requirements to stay in theater.” She had hoped to do better than a B in those classes, but unlike a full semester, she’d had to cover a ton of information packed into just a few weeks of class time.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, ready to show him how well she had done.

“Put it away, Skylar. I have the same information in this folder. Of the two classes you took, you did well. The problem is you failed psychology last spring.”

“But I told you that at the end of the semester.”

“Yes, you did. And it was my understanding that you were retaking it over the summer.”

“I tried, but psychology isn’t offered in the summer. I began it two weeks ago with the fall courses, and I’ve already made an A on the first test. I can pass the course this time. I know I can.”

Why had she chosen to go on a weekend trip last spring when she’d needed that time to study for the final? She’d known she was on the cusp of pass or fail, but she’d followed Peter, her then boyfriend, to the beach with a group of his friends. Then after she failed the class, she learned he’d been cheating on her for months. “I made a silly mistake, and it cost me a passing grade. It won’t happen again.”

“I wish that were good enough.” He played with the edge of the file. “I hate to have to tell you this, but—”

“Nooo. Please, Patrick.” She knew she was whining, but she didn’t care. “If you don’t want to say it, then don’t. I can make this right.”

“I believe you. But there are two protocols to being allowed to participate in extracurricular activities at this school. Your summer classes pulled up your GPA, but that’s only one of the criteria. No one can have a failing grade in any mandatory class and continue performing in sports or the arts.”

“Oh, come on, Patrick.”

“Sorry, Sky. You’re on academic probation, and the only reason you weren’t told that months ago is because your counselor had her baby prematurely, and some grades slipped through the cracks.” He opened his desk drawer. “The rules are what they are. When you finish the psychology course, the two grades—the failing one and this semester’s—will be averaged, and if that gives you a passing grade for psychology, you will be allowed to rejoin tryouts for the following performance. While on academic probation, you could be a stagehand.”

“You want me to make sure Brittany’s spotlight, sound equipment, and costumes are in good order? No thanks.”

“Then you’ll need to drop theater for this semester. Maybe a break will do you some good.” He put the file in the drawer and locked it. “I did what I could, but it seems we’re both in some trouble here. Even though the front office was unaware you’d failed a mandatory class, I wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have let you continue in the summer program. The bit of good news is that because of that A you’ve already made on your first psychology test, I managed to get permission for you to finish the last performances of the current musical, but that’s all I could do.”

“I’ve put effort into doing everything you’ve wanted for four years.”

“I know, and you’re a huge part of the reason our ticket sales have increased over the last couple of years.”

“But the theater’s fiftieth-anniversary performance would be my best chance to stand out in a sea of applicants to CMU.”

“I don’t want to discourage you, and I know you believe in the dream, but I doubt you can pull up your GPA enough to satisfy CMU. Maybe you should rethink that plan.”

Was that true? She grabbed her backpack, slung it at the closed door, and cursed.

Patrick didn’t flinch. “Pick up your bag and watch your language, Sky.”

She snatched her bag off the floor. But the hardness of his soft-spoken words was unbearable. Had she been living in a fantasy world to hold on to her dream of CMU? Skylar put the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “So if this hadn’t happened?”

He stood. “Yeah, you were going to be the lead.”

She leaned against the door and thudded the back of her head against it numerous times. Why had she let anyone, especially cheater Peter, talk her into going away that weekend? After gaining some control, she stood upright and wrapped both hands around the strap of her backpack. “I’d like to cut practice today.”

“I understand. You know your part well.”

“Thanks. Any chance you could hold off posting the information until after my last performance next weekend?” That would keep her from having to face the entire troupe once they realized she didn’t even get a bit part in the next play.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I appreciate it, and thanks for fighting for me.”

“I would say anytime, but I need this job.” He didn’t look as much like a teacher right now as a middle-aged man who’d been backed into a corner by his boss.

She left his office, and anger warred within her as she walked toward the exit.

Brittany looked at her as she passed. She turned away quickly, but not before she saw the smirk on Brittany’s face.

Wasn’t there something she could do to reverse this decision? There had to be. Ideas began pounding her brain. Oh, so many ideas.

But just how far was she willing to go to get back on stage before the semester was over?