Dream Chaser (16 page)

When we finished, my face was hot with humiliation. I closed my music and focused on a stain on the carpeting.

“Tyson,” Eli whispered. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“It’ll come. Willow, just keep up on your voice lessons, and you’ll do fine,” Tyson said.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

Tyson stood and walked away from the piano. “Five minutes and I want everyone on stage for warm ups.”

“Unbelievable,” Eli muttered.

My jaw quivered and my eyes welled up. I dumped my music with my stuff and hightailed to the back stage area where I could escape for a minute without an audience to ridicule me.

I hated feeling sorry for myself, but sometimes it’s just too hard not
to
. I went past the curtain lines and sat out of sight against the cement wall of the theatre. I tried not to cry, but my teeth started to chatter like one of those wind-up toys. I huffed a few big shaky breaths to keep the tears at bay.

What did I get myself into? I heard the others find spots on stage. I huddled further in my dark corner as a big warm tear rolled down my face. I stared up into the dark of the rafters far above the stage, wishing I could escape and go home. Another teardrop slid down my face. As I brushed it away with my arm, I saw Eli standing about twenty feet away, watching, his expression unreadable.

We looked at each other across the space; that twenty feet could have been twenty miles. I clamped my jaw shut and wiped my face with my arm. Eli turned and walked the other way.

After a couple minutes, I pulled myself together and joined the others. At least we were working on dance, and dance was something I could do.

Unless, of course, I didn’t know the steps yet, and everyone else did.

I was soon ready to strangle Chloe. If she “
tsked
” one more time, whispered behind my back, or commented that I was a half beat off, I was going to deck her! The rest of the cast wasn’t much better. They huddled in their little clusters and whispered. I was still an outsider.

I tried to silence them with a few well-placed glares, but it didn’t help.

We ran the number again. Honest to God, I tried, but it didn’t show. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I’d only worked on this number once before, and they’d had it for three weeks. The stress of singing, crying, and knowing I was the outcast kept me from pulling my shit together.

“Cut. Start again, please,” Tyson called from his post near the piano apparently unaware of the cast of bullies.

The rehearsal accompanist played the intro once again. I went back to my starting position, which, of course, was front and center. We started, and things went pretty well for about twelve bars. Then my mind went fuzzy on what came next. Passé, contract,
chassé
, attitude, step, pencil turn,
coupé
left. No, right!

Shit
.

“Cut!” Tyson yelled.

Eli aimed an irritated look my direction.

“Oh my God, why the hell is she even here? She doesn’t know a
coupé
from a
jet
é
,” one complained.

“I bet Tyson wishes he never cast her,” said another.

“She sucks.”

“Did you hear her sing? She can’t carry a tune.”

“I heard they’re sending her to voice lessons, but she’s so bad the teacher quit.”

“When is he going to kick her out?”

I refused to look and give the tormenting bastards the satisfaction of seeing my agony. Inside I seethed. Not like a teapot on the stove, but more like a commercial sized pressure cooker where the lid is clamped on and it’s building up power. That was
me
. Trapped in a pressure cooker with no place to vent.

“Tyson?” Chloe said, “How many more times do we have to run this for her? Aren’t we falling way behind?”

Outraged and humiliated, my body shook with anger. I clenched my jaw and bit back my venomous thoughts. If I spoke my mind, it would be a horrible display I knew I’d regret.

“Take five,” Tyson said, distracted. Eli joined Tyson at the table.

 
“How’d she get the part anyway? She can’t sing, and she’s messing up all the dances,” one of the girls said.

“I heard she fucked Tyson,” Chloe announced.

I spun around and pierced Chloe with a glare so strong it should have melted the thick makeup off her zits. My hands fisted at my side, that pressure cooker reaching explosion level.

“What?” she acted all innocent. Some gasped at her nerve.

Instead of slamming my fist in her face and gouging her eyes like I wanted to, I gave up. Enough already. I could take no more. So I marched my lousy dancer self down the steps. Tyson and Eli glanced up, like something important just happened and they’d missed it.

Someone’s water bottle lay on the floor. I kicked it so hard it slammed against an auditorium seat, split and sprayed water.

“Where are you going?” Tyson asked.

“Outside.” I kept walking.

“Why?” he asked, confused.

“I’m
gonna
try to get run over by a car.” I stormed past.

“She’s kidding, right?” Tyson turned to Eli.

“Bye
bye
,” someone on stage said. The peanut gallery on stage snickered.

Assholes
.

The air in the auditorium suffocated me. I needed to escape its smothering effects, so I shoved through the doors to the hallway that led to the parking lot. Halfway down the hall,
who
should I run into but the whole damn cheer squad.

“Hey guys, look who’s here.
It’s
twinkle toes the dancer,” Marcus said stepping in my path.

“What’s wrong, Willow, you look upset. Isn’t the ballerina thing working out?” Rick taunted. Jilly jabbed him in the ribs. Marcus blocked my way, so I bulldozed by.

Screw ‘
em
.

I knew they were still ticked that I quit cheer, but grow up already and get over it!

I slammed out of the school, walked through the parking lot and just kept going. I didn’t know where, but I had to get away from everyone and all their shit. I aimed for the lake and stormed that direction. After crossing the road, and trudging through snow, I found a bench that overlooked frozen Lake Monona. Numb with rage, I sat. I didn’t know how to cope anymore. Everything was going wrong. I’d given it every ounce of effort I had, and it wasn’t working. What more could I do? No one was happy. Not Eli, not Jilly, not the cast, not the director, and certainly not me.

I don’t know how long I stared out at the winter night, trying to swallow down the pain. Lights twinkled from homes across the lake. I gazed transfixed at their starry glow and glazed over.

“Willow!” It sounded faraway and muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

“Willow!”
Louder this time.

I snapped out of my trance-like-state enough to glance back and spy Eli in his Jeep at the side of the road.
What the hell did he want?
I ignored him.

A minute later, he trudged up, hands deep in his coat pockets, his breath coming out in white frosty puffs.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Escaping hell. Why are you here?”

“I was driving around trying to find you. Someone said you walked outside. Come on, let’s go. It’s freezing out here.” He bounced up and down to stay warm. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No. Actually I don’t feel anything.”

And I really didn’t. Even though I wore only a t-shirt and dance pants and sat on a frozen bench surrounded by snow.

Eli sat down next to me. “Ignore them, they’re just pissed you got the lead. They’ll get over it.”

This was the most Eli had talked to me since the show started. “Yeah, when pigs fly.”

“It’s not so bad. You can take it.”

I looked at him. “They hate me! The cast hates me! The cheer squad hates me. And you. Well you barely tolerate me.” He had the decency to look guilty as charged. “When did you turn into such a jerk? And by the way, I never asked for the lead. I never wanted the lead. A measly little part in the chorus is all I wanted.”

“Then why did you take it?” he asked.

“Have you ever tried saying no to Tyson?”

He shook his head.

“Well I did, and see how it turned out.”

“So you took the lead; now stop being such a baby.” He stood up. “Come get in the Jeep and I’ll take you back. If you sit out here much longer, your toes will freeze off and then you really won’t be able to dance. Or do you plan on quitting this too?” he asked with a raised eyebrow
.

 
Eli knew how to hit low and hard. “No thanks. I’d rather walk.” I got up and stomped away.

“In that case I’ll give you a head start so I can run you over.”

I couldn’t help it. I cracked a smile.

“I saw that. You almost laughed,” he called after me.

So I flipped him off, and it felt really good. But then he made a point of following me the whole way back, which made me want to slash his tires. By the time I got back into the school, my anger had cooled off enough to realize I really was cold.

“I’m
gonna
hit the bathroom,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the aud.”

He nodded.

In the bathroom, I turned on hot water and ran my hands under it until the temperature reached scalding.

When I entered the auditorium, I heard Tyson talking to the cast who sat in a half circle on the stage floor all looking downcast.

“This is NOT a high school show,” Tyson lectured in a tone I’d never heard from him. “This is a professional production of a Broadway-caliber show. Each one of you was selected because of your exceptional talent, which is extraordinary for your age, and I expect you to act with maturity and professionalism.”

He ranted and paced in front of them, so I stayed at the back of the house.

“I see what’s happening here and I don’t like it. We don’t have time for hissy fits and juvenile jealousy. You should all know by now that everyone in this show is replaceable. Don’t push me; you won’t like the result.”

The man was pissed. I couldn’t see even a glimmer of his normal easy-going personality.

“Willow is the female lead of this show. You need to accept that fact or find the door. Jealousy is ugly, and I won’t let it infect this show. You should be helping her, not standing in her way. If she fails, you fail. I expect cooperation and teamwork from each and every one of you.”

His hands on his hips, he stared them down. “Is that clear?”

“Yes,” they muttered.

“I understand your childish desire to initiate the new kid, but the hazing is done. Over. I don’t want to see or hear one more thing unless it’s positive. But let me tell you.
Your
hell week has just begun.”

Without turning around, he asked, “Willow are you ready to get back to work?”

“Yes, sir.” I answered from the back, feeling more isolated than ever. They’d really hate me after getting their
asses
chewed.

“Then let’s go.” He left the stage. As I passed him, his face was serious and stressed, but he smiled quick and whispered, “Hang in there kid.” So I guess we were okay.

The rest of rehearsal developed into the most quiet and intense I’d ever experienced. At least I didn’t have to suffer anymore muttering or snide comments.

 
After practice, I swore I’d never let them catch me unprepared again. After walking home and eating dinner, I drove to Miss Ginny’s and practiced alone for three hours.

Damn them all.

The next day I wanted to thank Tyson for sticking up for me, so I brought in a pan of my Dad’s special brownies. Not
that
kind of “special,” but the kind he was allowed to send to school without getting arrested.

I plopped them on the table next to Tyson. He’d been going over notes in his binder. He looked at the brownies for a couple seconds and then at me and again
back
to the brownies. He considered the contents.
 

“Are these what I think they are?” He made this big production of crossing his arms over his chest.

 
“Depends. What do you think they are?” I cocked my head.

He looked closely at the brownies and back at me. “Are you trying to get kicked out too?” He arched a brow and tried to stare me down, but I wouldn’t look away. I’d played this game too many times with my Dad. And won.