Page 3 of The Failed Audition

I smile, and my phone buzzes on the single bed. He’s closest to it, and he grabs the cell. His eyes must graze the text on the screen. “Who’s Camila?”

I left this part out to Shay. I thought he’d freak even more if he knew my plans. If our roles were reversed, I’d be a little worried for him too. But he’s a guy, so the level of protection he needs on his own seems different, even if it shouldn’t be.

“Camila is the girl that I’m staying with during my auditions,” I say.

“She’s another gymnast?” He passes me my phone.

“Not exactly…”

His lips part. Shay has this All-American look: a suitable body and face for Abercrombie. The short cut of his light-brown hair, the curve of his biceps. But I’ve only seen those lips part like that for me. In shock and worry. They part in lust for girls on the track team.

“Who is she then?” he asks.

“I found her on this couch-surfing website, and we exchanged numbers.”

He rests his hands on his head in distress. “No.”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m going couch-surfing. It’s supposed to be real and safe…I did some research.”

“Have you seen her?” he asks valid questions.

“No, but she seems nice in texts.” Off his growing wide-eyes, I add, “It’s nearly free and way cheaper than a hotel. The plane tickets were expensive.” Since my parents weren’t one-hundred percent on board with my life choices, they said I should handle all the expenses.I’m an adult now, my dad said. He’s right in a lot of ways.

Shay starts, “If I didn’t have conditioning this week—”

“You’d fly out with me?”

His whole body goes rigid. “I was going to say that I’d drive to your parent’s house and have them convince you to stay.”

“They already know what’s happening.” I have a very hard time lying to my parents. I went to one party in high school and blabbed to my mom and dad the minute I snuck back inside. My mom made me ice cream, and I dished to her about the uneventful night.

“And they’re okay with it?”

“They’re a lot like you, actually,” I say with a smile.

“It’s not funny, Thora.”

I think I’m smiling and scowling to hide my fear. It grows the longer he talks to me, and I’d rather stay confident.

“He could be a dude,” Shay adds, pointing at my cellphone. “He could want to fuck you…or worse—killyou.”

Chills run down my spine. “We’re meeting at a nightclub wheresheworks. It’s a public place.”I’ll know if she’s a pervy dude or creep then.

Shay is quiet for a second, and he stares hard at me, like he can break my optimism and my plans with a single, narrowed look.

He can’t. I won’t let him.

“You have one year left at college,” he says, “and you’re going to throw it all away?”

I shake my head. “It’s the opposite,” I tell him. “My life is just beginning.”

ACT ONE

Iroll my suitcase along the indoor cobblestone, a pathway leading towards The Red Death. It’s the club where Camila works, inside The Masquerade Hotel & Casino. She told me the club’s name was a play on Edgar Allen Poe’sMasque of the Red Death, maybe to alleviate any worries that I’d be catfished and end this trip in a body bag.

I blow out my stress with a breath. “You can do this, Thora,” I whisper to myself. The pep talk helps some.

I trek forward, struggling to avoid the pack of stiletto-heeled girls in glitzy dresses. They line up behind a velvet rope, fitting among the bright lights of Vegas like chameleons. Off to my left, casino machines glow and flash and ring while people bustle down the wide corridors with places to be, parties to attend, money to gamble.

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