Monday morning, another huge printed banner is waiting for me on the Theatre Board:
RHS Theatre Presents: William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.
Dr. Lochley’s put it up over all the other notices on the board; the pushpins beneath are dimpling the banner.
“So she finally picked a show?” Liam asks, sipping on his pineapple-mango-arugula shmoodie. (It sounds weird but it’s super tasty.)
“Yeah.” I heard on Friday, but Dr. L swore me to secrecy. “Have you read it?”
Liam shakes his head and stares at the sign.
“You going to audition?”
“I dunno.”
“What? Why?” Liam’s too good to not even try out.
He chews his lip and glances toward Cam and Philip, who are canoodling in the little vestibule by the stairs.
“You can’t let them stop you.”
“I’m not. But . . . you know they tried to start a rumor me and Tori were hooking up in the scene shop? That time I was late for my cue?”
I roll my eyes. “They’re drama queens. And I’m allowed to say that.”
Liam’s eyes sparkle as he laughs. He sips his shmoodie, then licks off the little drop left at the corner of his mouth. I trace the movement with my eyes. His lips move but I’m still thinking about his tongue.
“What?”
He caps his shmoodie, tucks it under his arm, so he can sign.
“It’s not just them. I don’t exactly feel welcome.”
“Some of the senior actors are jerks to everyone,” I say aloud. “You can’t let that stop you, okay? You’re amazing.”
“All right. I’ll try. What about you? Are you going to audition?”
I laugh so hard I almost spit my own shmoodie out. “Me? No way. Someone has to stage manage.”
Liam pouts. Actually pouts. It’s so cute I think I’m going to pass out. My heart thunders extra hard and I back away a bit.
It was so much easier to deal with my crush when he was with Jasmine.
“That’s not a good reason. Dr. L would find someone else.”
“Well, maybe Paige can take over next year, but she’s not ready yet. And besides. I want to stage manage.”
Liam studies me really hard. And then he says, “It’s not because the actors are awful to you too?”
“They’re fine. It doesn’t matter.”
He gives me the kindest look then, all soft feathery hair and ocean eyes and I never want him to stop looking at me that way.
“It matters to me,” he says. “I swear, if Cameron calls you ‘Jackthon’ one more time, I might drown him in the diving well.”
It matters to me.
I can’t pick that apart right now.
“I’m gonna be late to class,” I tell him. “You going to sign up or not?”
“All right, all right. You got a Sharpie?”
Bowie asks me to meet them in the computer lab after school.
“What’s up?”
“Look at this.” Bowie waves at their screen. They’ve got a bunch of browser tabs open, for different caterers in town. “For the Winter Banquet.”
I scrunch up my face. The GSA does a Winter Banquet every February, which is supposed to celebrate queer friendship and platonic relationships at a time of the year when most people are focused on romance.
Which is funny, given how many people have (allegedly) hooked up at the banquet.
“Shouldn’t someone from the GSA be helping? Where’s Braden, anyway? Isn’t he banquet chair?”
“Tennis practice.”
“Cheyenne?”
“College visit.”
“You shouldn’t have to do the work of three people.”
Bowie rolls their eyes. “You’re one to talk.”
Uncalled for. Though they’re not wrong, I suppose.
“So what do you need?”
“I’ve got to find somewhere with gluten-free, vegan, and onion-free options.”
“Onion-free?” My stomach sinks like I’ve swallowed a sandbag.
Bowie’s lips curl, but they nod.
“Braden made an overture to Cam and Philip.”
“Gross.”
“They’re the most popular queer couple in school. He figured if people knew they were coming, they’d want to come too.”
“Super gross.”
Bowie shrugs. “If it raises more money . . .”
“Yeah, yeah.” I sigh. “Fine. What’ve you got?”
Bowie gives me a bemused grin. They’ve got orange eye shadow on today, a vibrant shade that matches their brand-new UT hoodie. Because after talking to the recruiter more, they’ve decided to apply early decision.
For real.
I look over the options on-screen, pushing away the knot of dread in my stomach. How many more afternoons will we have like this—just the two of us, hanging out, plotting how to not poison Cam with onions?
I don’t want to think about it.
Jasmine’s leaving. Liam’s leaving. Mom left long ago.
I don’t know how much change I can handle.