Page 6 of Dungeons and Drama

But that could all be changed. If we choose a fun, more modern musical—something that can show off our talents but reuse sets and costumes from past years—I bet we could get a lot more interest. Miss Sahni would be a much more popular teacher to direct it, and I would happily step in as student director to help as well. And a more popular musical would mean more ticket sales. A swell of excitement fills me. This is totally possible, and I’m not giving up hope for it.

“Looks like you’re plotting, Riley,” Paul says as he studies me. “I want to help, but my community theater director asked me to run acting workshops this fall, so I’m obviously swamped.”

Yes,obviously.I roll my eyes. Leave it to Paul to douse my excitement with his overflowing ego.

“Luckily I don’t need any help.” I walk around him, Hoshiko quick at my side, but rather than heading to Miss Sahni, I stride to the other side of the room by the double doors to the hall.

“Sorry, but he’s the absolute worst,” Hoshiko says.

“Don’t apologize to me—it should be the other way around. I can’t believe I forced you to hang out with him last spring.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was a lot less jerky when you two were dating.”

I snicker. “That makes me feel exceptionally better.” I look over my shoulder at Miss Sahni. “So, I have an idea, but I think it might take time to pull together. Should I run it past Miss Sahni anyway?”

“The bell’s going to ring any second.”

Choir is the last class of the day, and Dad’s likely already waiting outside to drive me to the store. Part of my “probation” means no extra time after school and no friends driving me anyplace. And even though Ireallyhate to admit it, Paul probably is right. Talking to her when I’m unprepared isn’t going to do anything to help the cause. I need details and plans.

Sure enough, the bell rings and makes the decision forme.

“Okay, I’ll start pulling together a plan and then I’ll talk to her.” I grab my book bag and we push out into the hall with the crowd. “But I’m not giving up until you’re back on that stage beaming under the lights.”

“And you’re getting a standing ovation for your brilliant stage direction.”

We grin at each other, and visions of next spring fill my mind. One way or another, I’m going to make this happen—for both of us.

Chapter Three

Dad is once again waiting in the parking lot for me the following afternoon. I duck into his car. “Are you sure I can’t have Hoshiko drop me off one of these days?”

He shakes his head. “No can do. Anyway, I like picking you up. It makes me think about how I used to drive you to elementary school. Do you remember how we’d hold hands and walk into the school together?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not six anymore, Dad.”

“Don’t I know it.”

If I’m being honest, I do remember that. I have a lot of happy memories from the Before Days, but they feel so long ago. They’ve been pushed back into the recesses of my mind by the last five years of stilted conversations and separate holidays and weekends. If he’s unhappy with how things are between us, he only has himself to blame.

“Riley? Hello?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about…my history paper.”

“Anything interesting happening at school?”

I grimace, remembering Miss Sahni’s announcement from yesterday. I’ve spent the last day ruminating about it and I haven’t gotten control of my emotions yet. Without the musical…what is this school year even going to look like? I’m already missing so much at the beginning of the year because I’m stuck at this annoying store, and now the rest has been decimated too. Usually my whole year centers around the musical. Reviewing the roles and prepping for auditions with Hoshiko, anxiously waiting for the cast list to be announced, sourcing costumes, helping with sets, and then rehearsals that fill up my spring in the best way possible. And now? Nothing.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I stare out the window and clamp my mouth shut. There’s no way I’m sharing a word of this with Dad. He might have come to my performances over the years, but he knows nothing about musicals and he’s never tried to learn. Conversation topics with him are limited to pizza toppings, passing thoughts about my homework and teachers, and why I’m tired and need time alone. No emotions and discussions about broken dreams, thank you very much.

“It’s just school,” I say quietly. “There’s nothing to say.”

Dad scowls. “All right. Well, I was thinking that when the store is quiet, you should study up on our inventory.”

And here we are. Back to his favorite topic, as usual.

“You’re going to need to know the difference between Settlers of Catan and Carcassonne,” he says, and flips on his turn signal.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

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