“I have no idea,” I said, having exactly all the ideas. “I despise you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he said.
We were both terrible liars.
“We can’t do this,” he said.
“You kissed me,” I said.
I wasn’t even sure if that was correct, but we had been equal partners in what had just happened. This wasn’t my fault.
Not this time.
“Fuck,” he said. “I know.”
He was making a real mess of his hair and part of me wanted to still his hand, but I wasn’t sure what he’d do if I touched him right now. Probably kiss me again.
I raised my arm, and he took a step back.
“No,” he said.
I glared at him, trying not to be hurt.
It very nearly worked.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Please stop,” I said. “This is awkward enough, okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Cal!”
I could tell he wanted to say it again, but I fixed him with a stare strong enough that he shut his mouth and gave me a sheepish smile.
“Right,” Cal said. “Okay. Well, I’m going to go.”
“Okay,” I said.
I stepped back so he could get to the door, making sure to keep plenty of distance between us. I had a feeling if I so much as brushed his arm with my elbow, we’d be naked and on the floor before either of us could think any better of it.
He opened the door and stopped. “Rehearsal,” he said. “Ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
He gave me half of a smile. “Good,” he said.
His fingers tapped on the door, hesitating. I thought once more about smoothing his hair down, not letting him go out into the world looking like he’d been manhandled, but I let it be.
“Ten o’clock,” I said.
He nodded.
“Go,” I said.
Another nod, and this time he stepped out onto my front stoop.
“Kathleen?”
“Hmm?”
“It was always your part,” he said. “Always.”
CONFRONTATION
I didn’t get a solo. I didn’t even get a duet.
“I’m sorry,” Harriet said. “Competition was pretty tough this year.”
I kept staring at the cast list, as if my name might suddenly appear up at the top, instead of down at the bottom where the rest of us were lumped into the chorus.
It was hard not to feel like all of my plans were falling apart. If I didn’t have a solo or a duet, there was no way I’d be able to attract the attention of the scouts at the showcase. And if I didn’t get their attention, that would be it. There was no way I’d get my parents to send me back here next summer. They already thought this experiment was a waste of time and money.
I swallowed back my feelings of unfairness.
Life was unfair, but showbiz even more so.
That’s why someone like Rachel James, mean-spirited and golden-voiced, not only got the end of show solo but also got to duet with Cal Kirby, baritone of my dreams.
We would have sounded so good together.
At least I was in the chorus with Harriet.
We walked back to our bunk, arms linked together.
I could tell that Harriet wasn’t as disappointed.
“At least we’ll have time to do other things,” she said. “Rachel’s going to be stuck inside rehearsing every day.”
“Yeah,” I said, even though that was what I wanted to do.
We turned the corner and all but ran into Rachel and the older girls. They were sitting on the front steps of their bunk, passing around a water bottle.
“Oh look,” Rachel said. “It’s the chorus.”
Her laughter was a sloppy, sputtering cackle.
I felt Harriet’s arm tense.
“How many summers have you been coming here?” Rachel came down toward us. Or toward Harriet. She barely acknowledged me. “Have you ever gotten a solo?”
Harriet didn’t say anything, her head down.
“It’s getting kind of pathetic,” Rachel said. “Don’t you think?”
Her friends laughed as Rachel took a long swig from her water bottle. She was close enough that I could tell that it wasn’t water. She reeked of vodka, and she was swaying on her feet.
She was sixteen.
“If I were you,” Rachel said, “I’d quit while I was ahead. Although—” She snickered. “You’ve never been ahead, have you?”
She lifted the water bottle like she was about to pour it on Harriet’s head.
“Stop!” I said, and threw my hand out.
It made contact with Rachel’s arm and the water bottle went flying, spraying vodka over all of us.
It went deadly quiet.
Rachel looked at us and then at the bottle, now lying in the dirt, its contents trickling out in a sad little stream. I could smell the alcohol on my skin, in my hair.
“What. The. Fuck,” Rachel said.
“I can’t believe you did that,” one of her friends said.
“It’s not like I was actually going to do it,” Rachel said. Her smile was cruel. “I wouldn’t waste it on someone like Harriet.”
“Fuck you,” I said.
I’d never said those words out loud. It felt good. Powerful.
Rachel narrowed her eyes and got real close to my face. My eyes watered at the smell.
“You’re just like the others,” she said. “Jealous.”
She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t respond.
“Come on, Kathleen.” Harriet pulled at my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah, Kathleen,” Rachel mocked. “Run away.”
I didn’t want to, but I also didn’t know what else to do. At least I’d ruined her night, just the way she’d ruined mine and Harriet’s. Unless she planned on fishing that bottle out of the dirt, her drinking was over for the evening.
Harriet managed to drag me away, though I couldn’t help looking back at Rachel and her friends—all of them laughing like hyenas—and wishing that she’d get what she deserved.