Chapter 8 Skyler
I float out of the audition space, like I’m one of those air hockey paddles, cushioned on a micron of air. Everything feels gauzy and surreal.
Who was that girl in there? The one who so completely owned that part? The one who kissed—and kissed and kissed—a boy with no concern for the others standing around, watching?
I know her from my nights playing cello, slapping out a ferocious beat, playing with the audience, feeding off them, giving back my all. But I’ve never felt that without Beyonce or Christina in my hands. Without the movement of my bow across strings, my body given over to its real purpose.
And the guy, Grey.
Jesus.
I bring my fingers to my lips, which still seem to vibrate, faintly, from the feeling of his mouth on mine. The power of him surrounding me, sweeping me hard against him. So confident for a young guy, but with skills like that, he’s right to be. The minute I breathed him in, felt his solid arms around me, I was a goner. We could have been in an audition or in the middle of a burning building, it wouldn’t have mattered.
It was only when he said my name, called me “Skyler” instead of “Emma,” that it all came crashing back around me. Then it was some tattooed kid and me. A kid who can kiss like a champ but who left in an inexplicable huff.
They want me to come back again, to audition with Garrett. The lead.
Me. With my weird pink hair and my six months of acting lessons.
I open the door to return to the waiting room, and, of course Beth is the first person I see. She gets up from her chair, smiling and hurrying over to me.
Me, I realize, with a best friend who really, really, really wants this part.
Shit.
She looks beautiful—and nervous from sitting here while dozens of girls have their moment. Including me.
“You survived!” she says and sweeps me up into something that’s half a hug and half a weird little jig. “How’d it go? Tell me everything!”
“Don’t you want to hear about it later, after your audition?”
She makes a pffft sound. “Hell no. I can’t wait that long, and I think I’m the last name on the damn call sheet.”
“Guess they’re saving the best for last,” I say, and it comes out sounding guilty and insincere, though I totally mean it.
“Well, duh.” She grins and leads me over to a low armless sofa that no doubt has a name like Flüg or Snöerkl. The scratchy tweed upholstery makes my skin itch, but that may be the adrenaline still coursing through my body, screaming for release. I don’t want to sit. I want to jump up and down or pound my cello or spin around atop a mountain, singing.
Beth smiles with anticipation. “So . . . ?”
“Well, it actually . . .” I start, but the words stick in my throat. If I tell the truth, will it seem like I’m bragging? Or taking something from her? She works so hard at this. And I just waltzed in and nailed it.
Still, what choice do I have? I’m not going to lie to her about it. Just because it was amazing doesn’t mean I’m getting a big part. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m getting her part. “It went . . . incredibly well.”
Her eyes widen, and her whole face brightens with excitement. “Really? Damn, girl. Now you have to tell me everything!”
“I just . . .”
What? There’s something so indescribable about it all. “I just felt it, you know? Like I got in there, and I did some lines with Grey . . .”
“That’s the kid?”
I nod. “Yeah. Adam Blackwood’s brother.”
“Well. Shit.”
“Yeah, but he’s—” A really good kisser? Kind of adorable? “He was okay,” I say. “I mean, he gave a good reading. He was, um . . .” I search my new acting vocab. “Present.”
“Well, thank the Lord for small mercies,” she says. “How much did they make you do?”
“All of it?”
“Really.” She sits back and looks at me. “The whole scene?”
“Yeah, I mean everything we had. All the pages.”
“How many times?”
Another girl gets up for her turn, and I watch her cross the room. She’s got long V-shaped sweat stains under her arms, and has wrung her script so hard it’s barely recognizable. Poor thing.
“Just . . . I guess, twice. But that’s because they made us stand the first time, and they didn’t have the cameras set in the right place, or the lights. So they wanted to do it again.”
She nods. “To make sure they got it on camera.”
“Yeah.” I feel exhausted suddenly, like I do at 4 a.m., after I’ve dragged in from a show and from breakfast with the crew.
“Tell me how it felt,” Beth says.
“Bets, it felt fucking awesome.”
She laughs and sweeps me into a hug, so solid and lovely I want to cry with relief. “That’s my girl,” she says. “I knew you’d kill it.”
“And I know you will too!” I tell her, and hug back, hard.
Other girls come and go, and then Mia enters the room with her clipboard and a giant smile on her face. “You’re up!” she says to Beth.
“Finally!” Beth gets up, and brushes off her clothes, takes a few deep breaths, and shakes out her shoulders and arms to loosen up her body. “How’m I looking?”
“Like a star.”
“Guess we’ll have a couple in the family.”
I don’t know about that. But I call after her, “Break a leg.”
She gives me a jaunty wave and follows Mia into the room.
The door shuts, and it’s just me in this cavernous waiting area. Now I’ve got my choice of Flügs and Snöerkls, but I just want to curl up right here and send good intentions through that doorway. I want Beth to have what she wants. I want her to become the star she was absolutely born to become.
And I want to feel more of what I felt during that audition. Suddenly, I’m hungry for it.
Somehow, there has to be a way for us both to get what we want.
Right?