Table of Contents
Acting Out (The Rosewoods, #7)
Acting Out
Identify a Problem
Ask a Question
Do Your Research
More Research
Epic Truth or Dare
So That’s Ritzy
Construct a Hypothesis
New Hypothesis
Studying with Kaylee
Add Frozen H2O
Add a Light Source
Make Necessary Adjustments
I'm Sexy and I Know It
Unexpected Results
Peer Review
Defending Your Process
Manipulate the Results
Incorrect Interpretations
Follow Up
Tainted Findings
Wear Protective Clothing
Analyze Your Data
False Positives
Defend Your Findings
One Investigation Leads to Another
Thank you
Coming soon! | Hitting the Target
Happy Birthday to Me
Also By Katrina Abbott
Chelly
“You should employ the scientific method.”
I followed Emmie’s gaze to the flowchart on the wall, the one outlining the scientific method.
“Brilliant!” I said.
“What? I was joking.”
“No,” I said. “It’s perfect. Look at it.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re going to use the scientific method to find a boyfriend.”
“I can’t think of any better way, can you?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“Exactly,” I said. “You lucked into your relationship with Danny. Well, I don’t want to wait for something lucky to maybe happen. So...”
“You’re nuts,” Emmie said, but she was smiling.
“I know. But it’ll work. You watch.”
She shook her head and then looked at the poster again. “So what’s your question?”
Ask a question, step one in the scientific method.
“Who will be my boyfriend?”
Emmie shrugged. “I guess that’s as good a question as any.”
Acting Out
The Rosewoods, Book 7
By
Katrina Abbott
Over The Cliff Publishing, 2015
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
ACTING OUT
First edition. May, 2015
Copyright © 2015 Katrina Abbott
Written by Katrina Abbott
ISBN-13: 978-1507777077
ISBN-10: 1507777078
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Steven,
The nicest guy I’ve ever known.
Identify a Problem
I never wanted a boyfriend.
Don’t get me wrong; I love boys. A lot. Probably the only thing I love more than boys is kissing boys, but I’ve never wanted a steady boyfriend. Just ask anyone; I’ve been known at Rosewood as the girl who wouldn’t settle down with one guy. The girl who never needed to focus on just one guy. The girl who was no stranger to a casual hookup, which is exactly the way I liked it.
Or so I thought.
Until that day at rehearsal when Declan Ryan, my co-lead, future duke, nice guy and the boyfriend of one of my best friends made me realize what I was missing. Wait, that sounds wrong; I didn’t suddenly find myself with a crush on him.
Let me explain.
We’d just finished rehearsing for our joint school production of Romeo and Juliet and were all hanging around in the auditorium as we always did before the boys left to go back to Westwood. Thanks to Kaylee (and probably her relationship with the aforementioned future duke) building in some downtime at the end of each rehearsal, cast and crew of the production had quickly realized these rehearsals were almost as good as dances for hanging out with members of the opposite sex. I think Kaylee figured it would help us get along and make for a production where everyone worked well together, but really, we were pretty much all looking to hook up.
On this particular night, there was a bit more buzz than normal because it was the first rehearsal since we’d all returned from Christmas break. Everyone was catching up after being apart for several weeks, talking about what we did for our holidays and inevitably bitching about returning to school. Though looking around, it was obvious everyone was happy to be here, chatting up members of the opposite sex. I know I was, especially after the supremely boring skiing holiday I’d had with my family. Read: sans eligible boys (and even if there’d been any, I was under the very watchful eye of my overbearing father).
Len Miles was talking to me as he often did, which made me a bit sad because he was a really nice guy and obviously had a crush on me, (or maybe my boobs, because that’s what he seemed to be talking to), but wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you know what I mean. As I pretended to pay attention to him—even giving him an encouraging hair toss to bring his eyes upward—something caught my eye. I looked up to see Kaylee and Declan in the wings, standing so close there was almost no light passing between them.
I smiled, happy that my friend had found her knight in shining armor, or—more accurately, I guess—her duke. I watched as he said something to her, making her look down demurely, though whatever it was, she liked it, her mouth turning up and that cute dimple appearing in her cheek. He lifted her chin with a long finger so she had no choice but to look up into his eyes and that’s when I saw it. It was like a bolt of electricity passed between them as they looked at each other. Then, a half second later, he leaned down and gave her a tender kiss, just a brush of his lips that meant everything. It was the kind of kiss that if I’d seen it in a movie would make me sigh and grin at the screen like an idiot. I could send a wrecking ball flying at them and neither would notice because they were in their own universe. No, that’s not right, they were their own universe.
Me, I want that for me. I want someone to look at me like that, popped into my head. As happy as I was for both of them, my heart suddenly ached. Which was so weird, because guys looked at me plenty; I had one right now with his eyes trained on my chest as he babbled away. I never wanted for attention. But that tenderness, the connection; I’d never, ever expected to want that. Especially because having a guy look at you like that meant he knew you. The real you, not just the funny, sexy girl who guys flock to, who just happens to be a mirage.
Something caught my eye and I turned and saw Abe looking at me. Jared Abramovich. He wasn’t even in the show and had sworn off acting after his horrible childhood on a sitcom, so I had no idea what he was doing here. Probably looking to hook up like everyone else.
For some reason, it bothered me, even though I was hardly innocent of it.
Then I saw him glance over at Kaylee and Declan and then back to me and I swear, he could see right through me.
A thread of panic went through my veins and I suddenly felt the urge to look away from his knowing gaze, but instead, I forced a slow smile and gave him an obvious wink. He frowned and then looked away.
Score one for Chelly.
“Chelly? Don’t you think?” the guy in front of me said, bringing my attention back to him. Right. Len Miles, or as all the guys called him, just Miles.
“Huh?” I asked.
“The Patriots are looking like they might take it this year.”
Football? Really this guy is talking to me about football? Of course it made sense since he was on a football scholarship and was probably going to get drafted. But still...
I smiled at him, but not too widely because I didn’t actually want to encourage him to keep trying to talk to me about sports. “Maybe,” I said non-committall
y. “I’m not really into baseball.”
“Baseball?” He said with a bit of a condescending smile. “I’m talking about football. The only sport that really matters.”
I gave him one of my signature giggles, but my heart really wasn’t in it and I suddenly found myself close to tears. I did a quick calculation, but PMS couldn’t be to blame, so obviously I was having some sort of unexplained meltdown. “Right. Football. Listen, I’d better go. I have to...”
And then before I even thought of how to end my sentence, I ran out of the auditorium, leaving him standing there on the stage.
~ ♥ ~
About twenty minutes later, after I got myself together in the main floor bathroom, I didn’t bother going back to the auditorium and instead trudged up the stairs to the third floor. I got halfway down the hall to my dorm room and realized I was so not in the mood for Naomi and explaining why I ran out after rehearsal.
After only a moment’s hesitation, I stopped at Brooklyn and Emmie’s room, pasting a happy look on my face before knocking. Celia let me in and I greeted my girls before plopping on Emmie’s bed with her.
Brooklyn, who looked like the walking dead with dark circles under her half-closed eyes—reminding me she was jet-lagged—was in her pajamas, sitting on her desk chair, telling the girls how she and Dave were over.
For good this time.
Obviously exhausted, she climbed into bed. “I’m done with guys,” she said with a sigh.
“Don’t even!” I said, crossing myself because I knew it would get a laugh.
Sure enough, the girls snickered. I winked at Celia.
“Not permanently. Just the thing with Brady...”
Right. Her hot horse coach, the one she couldn’t have. Poor thing.
“But he’s not even here,” Celia said with a frown.
Looking at Brooklyn, it was obvious it didn’t matter that he wasn’t here. She had it for him bad and his geographical situation was irrelevant. It made me feel sad for her and sort of reinforced why I never got involved with guys. It also made me question my thoughts from earlier in the night because no good came from getting involved.
Which made the following come out of my mouth: “You’re nuts. Just casually date. You don’t need anything serious. And then when your hot coach comes around, you can just kick Mr. Right Now to the curb.” Because I knew that hot coach was going to come around; I’d seen the way he looked at her and if it was possible, it was even hotter than the way Declan had looked at Kaylee.
“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought,” Emmie said, looking at me almost mockingly, which made me smile. “But I think Brooklyn’s being smart. There’s nothing wrong with being on your own and waiting for the right guy.”
I guess, but it was awfully easy for her to say, wasn’t it? “Says the girl with the hot felon,” I said out loud.
Emmie threw a pillow at me, which I easily deflected. But as I looked at her face, I realized she was completely a slave to her emotions after that hot felon of hers.
It occurred to me in that moment, that as I was sitting on the sidelines, my friends were hooking up around me. And they weren’t just random guys, either. These were quality relationships. Kaylee and Declan were obviously the real thing. So were Emmie and Danny. And when Brooklyn’s hot coach got his head out of his ass, that was going to be the real deal, too. I’m talking capital L word real deal. For all of them.
I glanced at Celia, but she was still on my single girl team, though maybe not by choice. She looked at Brooklyn and said, “Well I think you’re being smart, too. Emmie’s right. There’s nothing wrong with being on your own.”
“Your hot chef still not making a move?” I asked, remembering how she’d been all googly-eyed over that guy she worked with down in the kitchen.
Celia frowned and sighed as she shook her head. Right, so she was not single by choice. Maybe she’d seen Kaylee and Declan together, too. I had to admit, they made a compelling case for a serious relationship. Not that I was ready to admit that out loud.
“We’re going to have to do something about that,” I said, giving Celia a smile.
She gave me a panicked look. “No thank you.”
“Okay, yeah,” I said, because she totally needed my help or nothing was going to happen. Though I’d buy my time; if I pushed her too much now, she’d completely back off. Maybe I’d get the others involved, too. “So, what’s our next event with the boys?” I asked Emmie.
She smiled. “The talent show. I talked to Kaylee and she said she was going to have you guys do a scene from the play as sort of a commercial for it.”
“That’ll be fun,” Celia said.
I thought about the rehearsals where no one (except Declan) knew their lines and how we did a lot more laughing than acting. If Kaylee was hoping to get a bunch of kids who wanted to see an epic fail, we were totally going to nail it. “That’ll be hilarious. We kind of suck.”
“Even better,” Celia grinned. “I can’t wait.”
I looked at her and winked. “Me neither.”
She swallowed, the smile disappearing from her face. “Don’t,” she whispered.
But she was scared for nothing. I’d help her with her chef if the opportunity came up, of course, but I was looking forward to our joint events with the boys with my own interests in mind.
Because I, Seychelles Spencer, was going to get me a boyfriend. Not just a hookup, either, but a real relationship with one guy.
I mean really, how hard could it be?
Ask a Question
Please take off your jacket, please take off your jacket, please take off your jacket, I chanted inside my head as I stared at Mr. Stratton up at the front of the classroom.
New year meant new term and this one meant each day started in physics class with the hot science teacher. Sure, I’d seen him plenty last term in rehearsal, but now I got him as my teacher. Though as I watched him standing there being all hot and manly, I really questioned how much work I was going to get done in this class. Which was a bad thing, because I really needed to improve my marks in math and science, especially physics, if I wanted to...
“What’s wrong?” Emmie whispered practically in my ear, breaking my train of thought.
“Huh?”
“You are looking at him,” she said, nodding toward the teacher, “But you’re frowning; those two things don’t go together. What’s the matter?”
I glanced back at Mr. Stratton, who was now shrugging out of his jacket just as I’d hoped, causing every student in the class to pay attention to him because: shoulders.
Every student including me and Emmie, of course.
“All right everyone,” he said as he draped the jacket over the back of his chair, projecting his voice that was almost too deep for a guy who seemed so young. Like, young enough to almost be eligible for dating. Almost. I mean, he was still a teacher...
“We’re going to start with today’s lab,” he continued and then picked up a stack of papers on the corner of his desk, which he handed to my roommate, Naomi, who was sitting like a keener in the front row. “Which allows you to use yesterday’s riveting lecture on Newton and his three laws of motion and put them into practice. Take one booklet per pair of you and you can work together. The booklet should be fairly self-explanatory, but please let me know if you have any questions.”
We all just stared at him until he cleared his throat and awkwardly said, “You may begin.”
So yeah. Good luck with learning anything this term.
“So what’s the problem?” Emmie asked as though we hadn’t been interrupted at all. It took me a minute to figure out what she was asking me.
“Sorry,” I said, finally catching on. “Just I have no idea how I’m going to get a decent mark in this class, that’s all.”
“A little distracting, isn’t he?” she said with a sigh.
“A little?” I laughed, taking our lab booklet from the pile that the girl beside me passed to us and sending the res
t along. “What was the dean thinking?”
“Maybe he’s her boy-toy.”
“Lucky cougar,” I mused aloud, making Emmie snort. “Although you thought the hot horse coach was her boy-toy and look at how that turned out.”
She shrugged, not bothering to respond to that comment. “Since when did you start caring about marks?” she asked.
“Since I realized if I don’t start getting better ones, I’m not going to get into college.”
Emmie blinked at me like I’d just said I needed to grow a third arm.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing, I just don’t think I’ve heard you talk about college before. Wait,” she said looking at me sideways. “You’re not looking to go to college to get your M.R.S., are you?”
I snorted. “Right, because I’m all about getting married. Please.”
She rolled her eyes. “But seriously; you’re making it sound like you actually have some sort of career plan.”
“I do,” I said, unable to be mad at her, even though she was implying I’d never given my career much thought. Because she was absolutely right; I hadn’t. Until very recently, the only planning for the future I did went as far as the next dance and what I was going to wear to it. It wasn’t until our skiing trip to Vale on my dad’s private jet that I realized what I wanted to do. “I want to be a pilot.”
Emmie stared at me and I knew she was trying to see if I was joking. Another thing I couldn’t blame her for, because I was almost always joking. But not this time.
“Seriously,” I said.
“Really?” she asked, her eyebrows arched high. “A pilot. Like, airline pilot?”
“Really. And yes, an airline pilot.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Because of the ratio of men to women pilots?”
That was part of it, but not for the reason she was thinking. “Women are very underrepresented in the cockpit,” I said, suddenly desperate for her to take me seriously.
“You sound like Naomi,” she said as she opened our lab booklet.
My throat closed up then and for one of the first times ever, I didn’t know what to say. But then she looked up at me. “I think it’s cool though. You’re really into it—the whole flying thing?”
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