by Seven Steps
I seethed. “You’re just mad because I have the part you wanted.”
Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and I knew my words hit my mark. “Not for long. Once Mrs. Simpson realizes how much you suck, you’ll be out of here in no time.”
Her words stung. Partially because they were words I’d said to myself.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” Purity asked. “Like taking turns throwing yourselves down stairs?”
Charlotte glared at her. “Don’t you have something better to do instead of constantly stalking your girlfriend?”
“Says the girl who the boys won’t touch with a ten-foot pole,” I answered.
“Better than being the girl all the boys have touched,” Victoria said. The three of them laughed.
I ground my back teeth together.
“And I do know one boy who wants to touch me,” Charlotte said. “Dear sweet Lysander. He can’t keep his eyes off me. Even more reason why I’ll be taking your role soon. So, keep bombing up there, sweet Hermia. You’re doing me a favor.”
I was so angry I could barely breathe.
Purity put her hand on my arm, stilling me, while the three girls giggled and moved to different seats farther back in the theater.
“Don’t listen to them,” Purity said. “They’re just jerks.”
They were jerks.
And, honestly, Joe was being a jerk too.
Not only was I already nervous being around him, but his nit-picking on stage was making me into a total headcase. If I was going to stay in this play, I had to start setting some things straight, and that started with Joe.
“Hey.”
We turned around to see that a boy had taken Charlotte’s place. Shawn Mogul. I recognized him from his posters. He’d run for class treasurer earlier this year. He was cute, with his light brown skin and brown eyes. The nape and sides of his hair were cut short, and he had tiny dreadlocks on top.
“Hey,” I said.
“I’m Shawn Mogul.”
He held out his hand, and I shook it first, then Purity. We introduced ourselves.
“You play Puck, right?” Purity asked.
He smiled and gave her a little nod. “The one and only.”
“You weren’t bad up there.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He looked at me. “You were great too.”
I scoffed. “Me? I could barely read my lines.”
“It’s okay. It’s still early. Everyone’s still on the book.”
“Not Charlotte.”
“Well, Charlotte’s different. This is her thing. She probably studied this play in Pre-K.”
I chuckled. “Maybe that’s why she’s being such a perfectionist.”
“That and she probably hates you for taking her part.”
I turned my entire body around, eyes wide, hands planted on the back of my seat.
“What?”
“When we were doing The Frog Prince, Charlotte played the princess. She’s been the lead in every play this school has done since she got here. Now, Mrs. Simpson shows up and makes her audition and makes her share a lead role with someone else. She thinks you’re sneaking up on her territory.”
I groaned. “We have, like, the same amount of lines.”
“She says you have thirty-two more lines than her.”
“She counted?”
Shawn shrugged. “I never said the girl was sane. But I wouldn’t worry about her too much. She screams and rants, but she’s all talk. And her house is sweet!”
“Thanks for that,” I grumbled. I couldn’t believe Charlotte counted our lines. What kind of psycho was she?
“Well, my part is coming back up. I just wanted to say congrats, and I’m glad you’re here.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Shawn.”
“No problem. Gotta run.”
Shawn hadn’t walked five feet away when Purity nudged me.
“He’s cute.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah. A little.”
“A little? Girl, you need to get your vision checked. And he’s sweet. Maybe I should—”
“No more setting up dates. Remember? Boy ban.”
Disappointment colored her face. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
I pulled my lip gloss from my pocket and slathered on a layer.
Yes, I had to admit that Shawn was cute, but I was still too angry with Joe and Charlotte to think about that. When Mrs. Simpson called the final cut, I ran backstage to find Joe.
And I did.
In the hallway that led to the dressing rooms.
His shirt was off, and he was wiping at his neck with a towel. My mouth immediately went dry.
His body was smoking hot. Flat abs, wide chest, muscular arms, firm build. He looked like a real-life Superman.
He must’ve caught me staring because he asked, “Did you want something?”
His voice was the perfect mix of cocky and irritated.
My gaze ripped away from his amazing body and rose to his face, where a grin hung on his lips.
It took me a moment to gather my wits.
“Yes, I um… I came to tell you that I… uh… would you put on a shirt so I can yell at you?” I demanded.
There was no way I could think when that body was so distracting. I’d seen many boys shirtless, but never any who looked as good as Joe. I mentally smacked myself. I had to get it together. I was supposed to hate Joe, not drool over him.
His grin widened, but he complied. Grabbing a clean, black T-shirt from his bag, he quickly yanked it over his head. When he was properly clothed, my mushy brain began to work again.
“Look, I don’t appreciate you always calling me out in front of everyone on stage.”
“If you learned your lines and your cues I wouldn’t have to.”
“It’s the second day. No one knows their lines or their cues.”
“We know them better than you. I mean, did you even look at your script?”
I stuttered. Yes, I’ve looked at it. For about ten minutes. Then I played Mario Cart with Quincey until we passed out in his room.
“That’s not the point.”
“No, Sophia, it is the point. You can treat this like one big joke, but the rest of us want to actually put on a good show.”
“Why do I have the feeling that this all goes back to last summer?”
He scoffed. “Grow up.”
“No, you grow up. I heard you call me Georgia Rose on stage, which just proves my point. This isn’t about putting on a good show, this is about you punishing me for disappearing last year. Maybe you should stop being so butt hurt about it and move on with your life like an adult.”
I was fuming, but his angry gaze threatened to set me on fire. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared back at him.
His face turned red all the way up to his hairline, and his hazel eyes turned darker brown than green. I’d never seen someone so angry, but I was angry too. He’d berated me in front of everyone and I was done with it.
Joe blew out a breath, snatched up his bookbag, and stormed away.
Surprisingly, for the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt like I had a little bit of control back.
I was probably going to pay for this during the next rehearsal, but for now, I was the victor.
And it felt glorious.
9
When I got home, Quincey and Mom were sitting at the dining room table playing a game of chess.
I thought chess was lame, but it was something they did when we had our annual visits down to Texas. Grandma Odie taught Mom to play when she was a little girl, but Mom had never taught me. Just another missing cog in the wheel of our relationship.
There were only a few pieces left on the board. How long had they been playing?
“Hey, Mom,” I called out. “Hey, Quincey.”
“Hey, baby,” Mom said. “How was school?”
“Good.” I leaned on the chair between the two of them.
“And how was community serv
ice?” Quincey asked.
I glanced at him, wondering if he knew my secret, but his question sounded innocent enough.
“Fine.”
“What do you do there exactly?”
Why was he asking me about my community service? Had Mom and him been talking about me? I cleared my throat and tried to sound casual.
“Serve soup.”
“What kind of soup?”
Why was he grilling me on this? Did someone tell him something?
“Split pea,” I said.
“Oh, I love split pea soup,” Mom said. “And do you know what else I love?” She moved another piece on the board. “Check mate.”
Quincey threw his hands up.
“No fair, Auntie. Sophia distracted me.”
“That’s your problem. Going to those fancy universities didn’t teach you any focus. I told your mom to home school you.”
“Auntie, going to college in person is way better than going online.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do until the fall.”
“You act like it’s a prison sentence. Besides, what’s Duke University got that this house ain’t got?”
He thought a minute. “Besides non-relatives?”
She grinned. “You’re a mess. And a charmer. You better be careful. You’re going to charm yourself into some little girl’s heart.”
“Not until I’ve got two degrees,” he said, repeating my mom’s own line back to her.
She smiled until I thought her face would crack. I rolled my eyes. What was with him? Why was he sucking up to my mom so hard?
“Well,” I said, stretching. “Since you two seem to be having the time of your lives, I’m going to bed.”
“Bed?” Quincey asked. “It’s only six o’clock. We have Mario Cart to play.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I’m beat. But we’ll hang out tomorrow, I promise.”
“Why don’t you come to church with me tonight, Q?” Mom asked. “I know you’ll love the choir. Sounds just like your mama’s church.”
I grabbed my bookbag from the door and started the long trudge to my room.
“You know how I love a good choir,” Quincey said.
When I was almost to my door, Quincey yelled out behind me.
“Hey, Soph?”
I turned around.
“Where’s that soup kitchen, again?”
Why was he pushing this? What was up with him?
“Downtown,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “Send me the address. I want to come pay you a visit. Who knows? I may even spoon out a bowl or two myself.”
I tried to keep my face calm and relaxed.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll send you the address.”
“That’s nice,” Mom said. “You know Sophia’s daddy used to volunteer all the time too. One time he spent an entire Christmas at the homeless shelter giving out toys. You should have seen those children’s faces. Priceless.” She shook her head once, then smiled. “You know what? Send me the address too, baby. It’ll do me some good to give back. Plus, I can see if their soup is as good as mine.”
Ugh. I didn’t need this! Now I was going to have to find a soup kitchen to volunteer at during play rehearsal time. Why was this my life? I’d never even been to a soup kitchen.
“Sure, Mom.”
“And don’t forget to clean up your room.”
“Okay, Mom.” I closed my room door and put on my headphones. Old school R&B swam through the small white buds, calming me as I debated how to handle my new Quincey situation. Q and I talked weekly before he came here, but it was always about general stuff. The latest songs, my friends, and how our moms were doing. I never talked to him about my dates or about my grades. I didn’t even tell him about Battle of the Bands. I couldn’t. If he knew how much I’d changed, he’d tell my mom, and knowing her, they’d drag me back to Vermont kicking and screaming.
I was not going back to Vermont.
So, I became two people. Sweet, respectful Sophia who had zero interest in boys, and bad reputation, slacker Sophia who sang in a band and kissed guys like it was her job.
And the two never met in the middle, especially not around my family.
But now, Quincey’s questions threatened to break down the carefully built wall between the two sides of me. I’d have to be extra careful from now on.
I kicked around idea after idea on how to handle this soup kitchenschool play situation until my alarm quietly went off at ten o’clock.
Then, I took off my headphones and waited.
Mom always went to bed at ten o’clock, and tonight was no different.
She and Quincey had come back from church a half hour ago, and now, at exactly ten o’clock, I heard her door close. That’s when I showered and threw on a black leather skirt, a white crop top, and heels. I smoothed my thick, black hair into a high ponytail with lots of gel so it wouldn’t frizz and did my makeup, going heavy on the lipstick. Twenty-five minutes later, I cracked open my door and listened.
There wasn’t any video game music playing, and Quincey’s room was dark. Still, I was sure to tiptoe past it. Just in case.
Then, I snuck out the front door and ran downstairs to where Eric was waiting in what I liked to call, the party bus.
It was actually a black Suburban truck, but it fit all of us and, where my friends and I were, there was always a party.
We greeted each other, then I climbed in the back next to Ariel and Ollie and we zoomed away, flying through the streets of Manhattan en route to John Biltmore’s penthouse in Soho.
“So, how’s the set coming from the play?” I asked to no one in particular.
“Good,” Jasmine replied. “We’re still cutting out some pieces, but we should have it done in plenty of time for opening night. How are things on the stage?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“Just okay?”
My breathing shallowed. “Why? Have you heard anything?”
She wiggled in her seat. “Not really. We spoke to that guy Joe today.”
“Joe? What did he say?”
“Nothing much. Just checking on things. He asked if we knew you and we said yes. Then he asked if you planned on staying in the play.”
“He did what?”
“Yeah, it was weird. Then Cole asked why he’d ask that and Joe kind of shifted the conversation away from it.” She shrugged. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
I seethed. It was one thing to try to get under my skin, and it was another to harass my friends for information. I’d make sure I let him know how unacceptable this was tomorrow.
“Everything is fine.”
She let out a breath. “Good. I mean, it didn’t sound like he was being mean about it or anything. It almost sounded like he didn’t want you to leave, but, like, I didn’t know you were leaving, so…” She dug in her small purse, pulled out some gum, and popped it into her mouth. “Anyway, if you need help, we can go over your lines. I mean, I won’t kiss you or anything.”
I pushed her, and we giggled.
As we pulled up to the front of John’s building, I couldn’t help but wonder what Joe’s motivations were for approaching my friends. Did he want me to stay in the play? If that were true, why was he always such a jerk to me when I was there?
I blew out a breath and put it out of my mind.
Tonight was not about Joe. Tonight was about having fun, and I planned on having as much fun as possible to make up for the sucky turn my life had taken.
There were so many cars crowding the street that we had to park two blocks away. I could tell it was going to be a fun night. Packed parties always made for a great time.
I grabbed the door handle to climb out of the truck, but before I could open it, I heard Bella from behind me.
“Wait,” she said. “Rules first.”
I sighed. Rules, rules, rules. My friends were all about rules. I knew the purpose behind them and, by now, I knew them by heart, but Bella always insisted o
n stating them before we went anywhere.
I let go of the door handle and sat back in my seat. Hopefully, she’d be fast this time.
“No leaving the party alone,” Cole said.
“Cover your drink at all times,” Eric added.
“And always go to the bathroom with a buddy,” Cole said.
Ollie scoffed. “Are those rules for the boys or for the girls?”
“These days? Both,” Bella answered. “Okay, everyone out.”
Finally free, I pushed the door open and climbed out.
“And remember your rules,” Purity whispered to me with a grin. “No boys.”
I smoothed down my skirt. “I remember.”
“Good.” She grabbed my arm. “Wing-girl?”
I smiled at her. “Wing-girl.”
Arm and arm, we walked into the lobby, then took the elevator upstairs.
I loved parties and dancing. Usually, I would scope out the hot guys and dance with each of them. Then a fight would break out because they’d got jealous, and I’d let the winner dance with me the rest of the night. But tonight, I planned on being Purity’s wing girl and just having fun.
No guys. No fights. And no kissing.
There’s a first time for everything, I guess.
The closer we got to the top floor, the more the elevator vibrated with the loud music. By the time the door dinged and opened, the music was throbbing through the floor. People were jam-packed from the hallway right up to the doorway. Expensive cologne and perfume assaulted my nose, like someone had bathed in the entire Bath and Body Works store.
Slightly dizzy from the odor, I pushed through the bodies in the dimly lit hallway and into the actual apartment.
I spotted John Biltmore standing on top of a table, drink in hand, talking to Makayla Spencer, a blond girl whose father owned a popular luxury car dealership.
I wasn’t surprised he had to stand on a table. There were so many people I could hardly move.
“Let’s go to the dance floor,” Purity shouted in my ear.
The eight of us formed a train with me at the head and Ollie as the caboose. I pulled us forward and we snaked and shoved through what felt like a million teenagers. When we reached the living room, aka the dance floor, it was even more packed than the rest of the house. The lights were so low we could barely see, and everything smelled like beer and sweat. But the music was amazing, and the energy electric. So, we formed a tight circle and started to loosen up.