WEDNESDAY

DAY THREE 

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PARKER

I yawned, walking to Lizzie's locker in the morning. Just to prove how tired I was today, I wore a pair of boyfriend jeans that were loose and too long so I had to roll up the cuffs; that way I could also wear my fun avocado socks and red converse. I also wore a huge black sweatshirt that I used to practice my hand stitching and embroidery on. My hair was up in a messy bun and I wore a thick wrap around my head too.

I spotted Lizzie half inside her locker. She braided her hair again. It dangled down the middle of her back. In true Lizzie fashion, she wore a Canadian Tuxedo: jeans, jean jacket and a mustard sweater underneath with her classic converse. When she finished, she slammed her locker and turned around with two iced coffees in her beautiful hands. I went all bug-eyed and stupid.

"Is that-?" I blinked. "Is one for me?"

"Yeah," she said like it was nothing, like she didn't just gift me with the nectar of the gods. I could've kissed her... that thought made my face burn hotter and brighter than the sun. Last night, in Lizzie's car, I almost did kiss her. One more second in that car, I might've done it. I got so easily swept away in the moment.

"Thank you," I said, past the blushing and my pounding heart. "You're my favorite."

"Don't lie to me."

I wasn't.

Lizzie explained, "So, I went by downtown this morning to check Miss Patty's Shop and it was the same as yesterday. I even asked the baristas at Good Beans if they knew anything about the shop and-"

"You really asked?" I blinked, waiting for the second head to sprout from Lizzie's neck.

"Yeah..." Lizzie's eyes narrowed. "Or were you not serious about figuring this out? Because I'm super committed. Five-dollar coffee committed." She rattled the ice in her cup.

"No! I was serious-"

My face burned. I just didn't expect her to be serious about it. Nobody took anything that I liked seriously at all. Ever. I didn't even bother telling my dad or my stepmom about doing the costumes for the play. They wouldn't understand. They'd want me to focus more on school or if I had so much time on my hands, I should open more hours for work. Maybe they would've noticed by now if they just took one look at my eyebags. Sometimes they were as dark as bruises.

Whatever.

I didn't care.

"Okay, then." Lizzie smiled the pep back into her step. She continued, "They didn't know anything, but they know someone owns the building and once, the owner saw the lights on, but it was at night. They've had it for like thirty years or something, so we should really do some Googling later."

"Another date, huh?" I grinned, biting down on my straw. Little butterflies were throwing a rave inside my stomach, dancing to the heavy thud of my heart. "God." I rolled my eyes. "You're so obsessed with me."

"I'm going to let you have this." Lizzie shrugged. "I mean, it's pretty pathetic that you've never even thought to ask the coffee place next door some questions. I'd be embarrassed if I were you too, Parker."

My jaw dropped.

My feet just stopped, stunned by this patron saint of sass. She really had a way of saying my name. She said it differently than most people. People said Parker like I was a foreign object hurtling through space, some unknown terror that would cause the Earth's destruction. Lizzie said my name like she knew the definition inside and out. She said my name like she could see it written over my heart.

"Hey," Camille said. She appeared by my side in a strappy black jumpsuit over a tight white turtleneck. In my head, I gave her a ten out of ten. For a moment, everything was fine, but Camille's face dropped. Her thick black brows scrunched together as if our two coffees were actually hand grenades.

"You didn't get me one," Camille pointed out, staring at the coffee in my hand. Not an accusation and yet, there was still something there like a tiny splinter inside my palm that I could scratch at but couldn't quite find.

"Sorry," Lizzie said. "I don't remember your order and I was in a rush. Are you really that mad? You can have mine." She offered her half slurped down latte.

"I'm not mad," Camille said like she was tired of saying it. She focused on me, her tension clinging to her shoulders the way ice clung to my dad's car windshield in the morning. "Mrs. Donnelly wants to see us in the auditorium before class starts."

"Okay," I said. "I'll meet you there."

"Hm..." Camille glanced at Lizzie and I as a unit, as one thing, and then turned, muttering something in Spanish that made Lizzie roll her eyes.

In fear of Camille (everyone should have a healthy fear of Camille), I waited for her to be out of earshot before I reached for Lizzie's arm. I asked her, "Hey, is everything okay? You two aren't fighting, are you?"

"No," Lizzie said a little too quick, a little too loud. She pulled back as her face flushed. "No. We don't fight."

"Okay." I nodded. For once in my life, I wasn't going to argue.

Like that, we separated, and I found Camille in the auditorium with everyone else in the crew and ensemble. The stage looked different every time I entered the theater. It started out as nothing, as a wide place for dust to land, but now there were steps to a palace. There was a cottage, a corner of Cinderella's own little world. I walked the dimly lit path to find Camille planted between two girls already, Kara Harris, who played one of the Stepsisters, and Norah.

I couldn't stop the scowl forming around my face.

Camille smiled with a squeamish little shrug. "Sorry. It filled up fast. We can go to the back if you want?"

Norah didn't acknowledge me.

"It's fine," I grumbled and sat behind her. Thankfully, Ian showed up, dressed in all black and somehow, he managed to find the seat next to mine with his eyes shut.

He grumbled and adjusted his Pokémon skull cap. "Didn't they do a study about how our brains can't function before nine or something? Why can't educators listen to studies? They want us to trust the educated, but they don't even do it."

"My brain can't even handle what you just said," I told him and handed him my ice coffee. He sucked it down faster than a baby to a bottle. Camille twisted around, eyeing me with an amused look. Good. She didn't forget about me. Norah's light hadn't overshadowed my presence.

"What do you think this is about?" Jordan Thompson, our Prince Topher asked from the front row. Jordan had all the qualities of the boy next door with his soft brunette curls, big brown eyes, dimples, and even that squared jaw thing. There was just one glaring problem about him. He squinted past the three rows to reach the group and he still wasn't looking directly at us.

"You need glasses, Thompson," I yelled out.

"Mia, I told you I don't need glasses –"

"You're talking to Parker! If you don't need glasses, I will eat Ian's hat! Ian's sitting next to me if you can't tell."

"Oh, that-" His frown deepened like he couldn't. "That doesn't prove anything."

I threw my hands up in defeat.

Our Director, Mrs. Donnelly, saved Jordan from more of a fight as she appeared from stage left. She walked the edge of the stage, the fabric of her caftan wafting behind her like the tails of ghosts. Pushing her large square glasses up, she projected her voice and said, "Good morning everyone."

A low rumbled of hellos replied.

"Okay," she chuckled. "A sleepy morning to everyone. Well, this will surely wake you up. If you haven't already heard, Caroline will not be joining us for the rest of the production."

I sat up straight. Caroline was the other stepsister, Charlotte. A huge role.

"What happened?" I straightened my arm out and dropped it.

"Does it matter?" Norah asked. "Maybe it's not our business."

"No, no." I raised my hand again. "I want to know."

Mrs. Donnelly raised her hands. "All I can say is that Caroline wanted you all to know that when a sign tells you not to pet a giraffe, don't do it."

I raised my hand again to ask more, but Mrs. Donnelly just ignored me this time and went on with her announcement. "So, obviously this means we need to make some changes. Camille, if you're up to the challenge, how would you feel about taking on the role?"

"Really?" Camille asked, breathlessly. I snuck my hands through the cracks between the seats and squeezed her shoulders. This would be her first title role. She'd have her own solo.

"You'd save the production." Mrs. Donnelly smiled. "And you deserve it, my girl."

"I'll do it!"

Everyone applauded and high-fived the closest people around. Norah leaned in and said something that made Camille laugh and hug her. My chest tightened. I could feel my existence fade away like I was standing in an elevator going down, but everyone else was going up.

Oh.

I never realized they were that close.

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We wrapped up the meeting and everyone shuffled out of the auditorium, heading to first period. I clung to Camille, despite my class being in the opposite direction.

"Now I get why the Thespians suddenly wanted to sit with you," I laughed, annoyed with how shaky I sounded. Everything was fine. I wasn't bothered. I didn't know why my hands felt sweaty or why my ears felt hot. "They could probably sniff the title role on you. Are they going to let you fraternize with the lowly dressmaker?"

"They're not that bad," Camille insisted. "Norah-"

"Oh, don't get me started on her. I think all that spotlight has fried her brain."

"Hey, I'm one of them, you know."

"No, you're not. Trust me, you're never going to be one of them."

Camille's face burned bright red. Her brows narrowed. "Why? Because this is the first time, I've ever gotten a big role?"

"No, because your personality isn't totally heinous."

Camille's jaw tightened and she looked away.

"You're gonna kill that solo, Camille."

"Yeah, thanks..." She checked her phone and I spotted the text from Lizzie. A little jealousy flared up in me. Lizzie never texted me first or ever out of the blue. Camille suddenly looked at me and I jumped, ready for a lashing. "Do you still talk to Emily?"

"Huh?" My eyelids fluttered.

That was random.

"We deleted her number from my phone," I reminded her.

"That wasn't an answer."

"I look at her Instagram sometimes." I shrugged, not really seeing the big deal. "But that's it. Why? Besides, I'm dating Lizzie."

"Right. I'll see you later."

She left me lost at sea. It was like two different conversations were going on and I couldn't translate either of them. I fiddled with my sleeve, going over every second of the morning. Somewhere along the way, I did something. I just couldn't figure out what. Maybe Lizzie would know why Camille was acting so strange...      

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Author's Note

If anyone's curious, or unfamiliar with the show! Charlotte, now played by Camille has a solo song called "Stepsister's Lament". It's a big comedic moment in the show. 

Don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think! Also, if you're a fan of Broadway, what's your favorite show? In high school, mine was Spring Awakening. Now, it's SO HARD to pick one. I just saw The Lightning Thief and it kind of blew my mind. Whew! 

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