“And that makes six questions, doesn’t it?” Mom asks. “The question about segregation, the four different definitions, and this diagram.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right, Mrs. Andersen,” Ms. Detweiler says. “And I think we’ve seen enough. Mr. Keeler, you owe Ms. Andersen an apology.”
He coughs and splutters. “The definitions were all sub points of one question. I still have two more.”
Ms. Detweiler frowns. “No, I believe we have sufficient proof that Ms. Andersen earned her grade. And perhaps we should have a discussion about showing mutual respect for our students, after Ms. Andersen returns to class.”
Mom grins and steps across the room to hug me. “You handled that well,” she says. “I knew my daughter would never cheat.”
Right. Because she totally didn’t try to throw me under the bus with that “I don’t remember biology being so humorous” line. But I smile and nod and return her hug. I still need her on my side, if I plan to continue with Cinderella.
Ms. Detweiler shakes my hand. “Well done, Andi. I’d say your tutoring sessions have been quite successful.” She looks at Mom. “It appears that Alaina isn’t your only brilliant daughter, Mrs. Andersen.”
Mrs. Gardner squeezes my arm affectionately. “I believe I have another student waiting to speak with me,” she says, “so if I’m no longer needed here?”
Ms. Detweiler nods and Mrs. Gardner leaves.
Mr. Keeler slams my textbook closed and tosses it onto my chair. “If my tests are so easy, Ms. Andersen, I expect to see you getting one hundred percent on every quiz and exam from now on.”
“Count on it.” I shove my book into my backpack and turn to Ms. Detweiler. “Can I go back to class now?”
I peek through the curtain at the crowd filling the auditorium. The house is packed, but I’m not even close to nervous. The butterflies in my stomach flutter low with anticipation, but not fear. I turn away from the curtain to watch my fellow cast members hurrying around backstage. A million things went wrong in our final dress rehearsal last night, but Jarod says that the rule is a bad dress rehearsal leads to a good performance. It totally doesn’t make sense, but he’s been through way more opening nights than I have, and I believe him.
We’re going to totally rock this thing.
The house lights go down and Cara takes her place, center stage, for the first scene. As the curtain rises and the spotlights highlight the world Dave and the rest of the stage crew have created, I slip out of myself and become Arika, Cinderella’s sexy stepsister who might actually have a chance with Prince Charming.
Jarod squeezes my hand and smiles at me as he passes by on his way to meet the poor waif, Cinderella, as a weary traveler, looking for a drink of water. The butterflies in my stomach start flapping like crazy when he touches me, and then they die in a churning, bubbling fire as I watch my prince flirting with the sweet, innocent Cinderella in her garden. Even dressed in rags and with makeup smudged like dirt on her cheeks, Cara’s prettier than I am. I can totally see why Cinderella’s stepsisters were mean to her. It sucks to be completely overlooked and ignored while everyone on the planet practically worships your sister.
When I hear my cue, I drift onstage behind Rebekah and Kathy to knock Cinderella down a few pegs. “You really think the prince would want someone like you?” I sneer, letting loose every ounce of frustration I feel. “The prince may not yet know what he wants, but seriously, you’re not his type.”
Rebekah giggles nervously, not sure of what to do with my ad-libbed lines, but Kathy jumps right in. “Yes, Cinderella. Stop this foolish dreaming and lay out our dresses at once. You must help my daughters prepare for the ball. One of them is certain to catch the prince’s eye this evening.”
We flounce offstage and Mrs. Mason hugs me. “You were brilliant,” she gushes. “That little extra bit was perfect foreshadowing for the ballroom scene later. Andi, you’re a natural.”
I float through the performance in a semi-daze as I allow Arika to fully inhabit my body, and before I know it, we’re lined up onstage for our final bows. Jarod and Cara, Prince Charming and Cinderella, step forward, hand-in-hand, waving and smiling at the audience. Then, Jarod drops Cara’s hand and reaches back to pull me into the spotlight. The audience erupts in a series of cheers and whistles, and I curtsy awkwardly. “It’s not often that the stepsister steals the show,” Jarod whispers, “but I’m not surprised. You’re amazing.”
Dave is waiting in the wings to congratulate me with a giant bouquet of daisies. “Wow. That was incredible.”
I take the flowers and breathe deeply. “Thanks. They’re beautiful. How did you know daisies are my favorite?”
He grins. “I told you. I pay attention.”
Jarod slips an arm around my waist and pulls me over to a small table next to the costume rack outside the dressing rooms. “These are for you.” He takes the daisy bouquet out of my hands and replaces it with a giant bouquet of pink roses. “The most beautiful girl at the ball.”
“Thanks.” There must be two dozen roses here. So what if they’re not my favorite? He didn’t have to get anything for me. And a giant bouquet like this probably cost a lot. So I hide my disappointment behind a giant smile and give Jarod a hug. It’s not his fault that he thinks Laina’s not the only Andersen sister who loves pink roses.
“Will you come with me to the after-party?” Jarod asks.
I step back and look into his green eyes. “Are you sure? There will be a lot of people. And they might see us together.”
“I don’t care. Let them see.”
I’ve been waiting for years for Jarod to choose me, but somehow I expected it to feel more satisfying. I glance over my shoulder to where Dave was standing a minute ago, but he’s already gone. I push aside a flutter of disappointment and take a deep breath, filling my nose with the sweet perfume of roses. Jarod is the one who wants me, not Dave. And that’s what I’ve always wanted.
I meet Jarod’s expectant gaze with a smile. “Yes.”
I step into his arms and tip my face up for a kiss, but Jarod isn’t looking at me anymore. He’s staring past me with a dreamy look in his eyes. I follow his gaze, and my heart plummets. “Hi, Laina. What did you think of the performance?”
“Oh my gosh, you guys, that was amazing. Jarod, who knew you would look so good in tights?” She rushes over and throws her arms around him, squealing in delight.
He blushes and tugs down on the hem of his tunic. “Well, you know, they’re incredibly comfortable. I think we should bring the whole Renaissance look back in style.” He points at me over his shoulder, without taking his eyes off her. “We were just getting ready to go to the cast party. Do you want to come with us?”
“Oh, I couldn’t. I’m not part of the cast. And I look atrocious.” She brushes her hand over the bulky sweater she’s wearing and bites her lip, waiting for us to contradict her.
Of course she knows she looks amazing. She always looks amazing. And I’m not really in the mood to play feed-Laina’s-ego tonight.
“No way. You’re gorgeous,” Jarod says. “And we’re allowed to bring guests to the party. You can come with me and Andi.”
They wander away, discussing the pros and cons of corsets and tunics, and I quietly fade into the background. Neither of them even notices that I’ve disappeared. Because no matter how much you tweak the script, the prince will always pick Cinderella.
No one wants her sister.
I find my parents in the lobby and convince them that I’m not feeling well. I’d rather go to bed early than suffer through another party as Jarod and Laina’s third wheel.
***
The crowded backstage area buzzes with excitement as I walk into the theater. Last night’s opening performance was amazing, and I can tell I’m not the only one still high on a rush of adrenaline.
“We killed it last night,” Rebekah says, hugging me. “This is going to be a great run,”
“Did you see your review?” Kathy asks,
handing me a copy of the local newspaper with a giant picture of me and Jarod on the front page. “Congratulations, sweetie. They love you.” She hugs me and rushes off before I have a chance to answer.
Of course I’ve read it. Mom had a stack of newspapers a mile high sitting on the kitchen counter when I woke up this morning. She’s probably still on the phone, calling everyone she knows to brag about it.
Even Laina’s never been on the front page of the newspaper.
Several cast members stop me to offer congratulations as I make my way over to the costume rack to grab my gown for the opening scene.
A wilted bouquet of daisies glares at me from the table, where I left them last night. Did I even remember to thank Dave for the flowers?
I pick them up to smell the wilted blossoms, and my chest tightens when I see a note tucked in among the limp stems. “I’d choose the sexy stepsister over Cinderella any day.” Maybe Dave doesn’t just want to be friends. Maybe I completely misread his signals. Maybe it’s not too late for my own happily ever after.
“I didn’t see you at the party last night.” Dave appears beside me and lifts the dead flowers from my arms. He turns his back on me and studies the limp, brown petals.
“Yeah, I was kind of sick,” I say. “I went to bed early.” I’m glad he’s not looking at me, because I can’t hide the blush creeping into my cheeks.
He shakes his head and pulls the petals off the biggest daisy, one by one, dropping them to the floor haphazardly. “There must be something going around. Prince Charming didn’t show up at the party either. Hope you’re not both too sick to perform today.” He doesn’t look at me.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I wasn’t with Jarod. I went to bed.” And Laina didn’t come home until nearly midnight. “Thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.”
Dave dumps the daisies into the trash and shrugs. “Yeah, well, daisies can’t compete with roses.”
“Dave, I …”
He sighs. “You’d better go get into costume. Mrs. Mason wants to talk to the whole cast before the audience arrives. Go over a few little hiccups from last night. And I’ve got work to do.” He waves his hand toward the empty stage. “I’m missing three props and we’re still having issues with the backdrop for the garden scene.” He walks away, mumbling about inconsiderate actors as he throws away a handful of discarded napkins and empty coffee cups from the floor.
I totally screwed up when I ditched him for Jarod last night.
And I deserved it when Jarod ditched me for Laina.
Grabbing my costume for the first act from the rack, I turn and start toward the women’s dressing room. At least I don’t have to keep wondering if I have a chance with Jarod. He made it perfectly clear last night which sister he wants. If only I’d realized that I didn’t want him either before I blew my last chance with Dave.
I trip over a pumpkin and nearly fall flat on my face, but strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, steadying me.
“You okay?” Jarod turns me around to face him.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
He brushes a loose strand of hair out of my face. “No, that’s not what I mean. Your dad said you were feeling sick last night. And you ran off without even telling me where you were going. We had a date, remember?” He smiles. “Are you okay now?”
Maybe Jarod wasn’t trying to ditch me for Laina. What if he just wanted to prove that he wasn’t hiding anymore? Would it even matter?
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I glance across the stage to where Dave is wrestling with the garden backdrop that keeps leaning to the left. How had I never noticed that Dave had painted a whole garden full of daisies? “I need to go get dressed, but I’ll see you onstage in a bit, okay?”
Jarod nods and kisses my cheek, and I sprint to the dressing room, questions swirling in my mind.
I always thought daisies were my favorite flower. They’re uncomplicated and straightforward, and you always know exactly what you’re getting. But I never really had to choose between roses and daisies before.
***
I peek through the curtains at the crowd filling the auditorium. Mom and Dad are sitting in the middle of the fourth row, as always. They’ve been here for every single show, even missing church for last Sunday’s matinee. Tonight, Dad invited his boss, bragging about me the way he’s always bragging about Laina.
“Wow,” Nathaniel leans over my shoulder to get a better look. “Who’s the chick with the boobs out there talking to Jarod?” He’s practically salivating as he ogles Laina.
“That’s my sister, you creep. And you don’t have a chance with her, so don’t even think about it.”
He smirks at my non-existent chest. “Guess the hot body genes skipped a generation, huh? Must be why Jarod likes the ballroom scene. That boob-lift dress you wear makes you look stacked.”
“We’re sisters. That’s the same generation, dipweed.” I spin on my heel and stalk off to the dressing room.
Is that really the only thing Jarod sees in me? I always felt so pretty and princessy in my ball gown, but now I don’t even want to wear it. I slap on my stage makeup and pull my hair up into the elaborate stepsister hairstyle. I examine myself in the mirror and take a deep breath. Jarod kissed me long before I was cast as the stepsister. It’s not all costume magic. But was I ever anything more than a stand-in for Laina?
I’m glad this is our last performance, because I don’t think I could take one more night with Duke Dipweed. He’s rude and inconsiderate, and maybe even completely right.
Emily wanted me to ditch the show tonight, because Nick’s throwing his annual my-parents-went-out-of-town-for-their-anniversary party. And maybe I should have gone with her. My understudy could have handled this last performance, and I’m tired of trying to be someone I’m not.
But Dad invited his freaking boss. He’s never invited his boss to anything, even last year, when Laina had three different solos in the spring concert. I couldn’t exactly skip this.
I run through the first act on autopilot, but when Prince Charming sweeps me into his arms for our big dance, he whispers “You look beautiful tonight,” and I let myself get carried away into the fantasy. I smile and laugh my way through the rehearsed banter that’s supposed to make the audience wonder who the prince will ultimately choose.
Until I catch Jarod staring at my boobs.
“Hey, Prince Not-So-Charming, I’m up here.” I lift his chin so that his eyes meet mine. “The melons aren’t gonna talk, bud.” I stop dancing and twist out of his arms. “If you’re only looking for a pair of boobs, you might want to try my sister, because I have way more to offer than that.”
I stomp offstage as Cara makes her grand entrance, leaving Rebekah to sing our duet alone. Luckily, she can sing both parts perfectly, and there’s a pretty good chance that most people in the audience haven’t seen the earlier performances, so they probably think my outburst is part of the script.
I hope.
Mrs. Mason quickly calls Rebekah and Kathy over for a conference while Jarod and Cara profess their undying love for each other onstage.
“Andi, I love the feminist take on the ballroom scene,” Mrs. Mason says, “but I wish you’d run it past me in rehearsals instead of throwing it out there for the very first time during our final performance.”
I stare at the floor between my shoes. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“I thought it was awesome,” Rebekah says, peeking around the curtain. “And it definitely got the audience’s attention.”
Mrs. Mason smiles. “I thought it was kind of awesome too. I only wish we’d thought of it sooner. But we’ll need to tweak the rest of the script a bit to make it fit.” She glances at the stage, where Cara is about to run away from Prince Charming, leaving her glass slipper behind. “Who would have guessed Cinderella caught the prince on the rebound?”
After a quick set and costume change, Cara wanders back “home” in her old rags and sings a reprise of her song about d
aydreaming. When she finishes the song, I emerge from behind a partition, as if coming into the kitchen from another room in the house. “Where have you been?” I demand. “I had to untie the laces on that wretched ball gown all by myself.”
Cara’s eyes widen. Of course, she has no idea what’s going on, because she was with Prince Charming while we were frantically rewriting the script, but she plays along perfectly. “I was in the garden. Dreaming of the prince,” she says with a sigh. “And it was the most lovely night.”
Rebekah and Kathy join us onstage, gushing about the ball and complaining about the mystery girl who stole Prince Charming’s heart.
“She can have him,” I say. “That prince is anything but charming.”
“Oh, no,” Cara gushes. “He’s kind and gentle.” She glances at us, a convincing look of terror on her face. “At least, that is how I imagine him.”
They transition easily into the song where the stepsisters and stepmother compare their impressions of the ball with Cinderella’s “dream” of what it was like. Rebekah sings my lines while I mutter insults under my breath.
When Prince Charming and his servant come to try the glass slipper, Kathy and Rebekah trip all over themselves to get a chance, like the original script says. But when it’s my turn to try, I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good, thanks,” I say, and the audience roars. I can’t help smirking when I see the way Jarod blushes.
When the play is over and we line up to take our final bows, Jarod and Cara step forward to receive applause as the stars of the show. When Jarod reaches back to take my hand, as he has after every performance, I step around him to take a bow on my own, and the entire audience leaps up to give me a standing ovation. Even through the bright stage lights, I can see Dad whispering excitedly to his boss. I smile and wave and blow a few kisses before I walk offstage, without waiting for the final bow. I shoot Jarod a nasty look over my shoulder, and I’m pretty sure everyone thinks I’m still playing the part.
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