Page 45 of Stay for Me
I swear, I’m going to kill someone. I go to speak but again, Brenna is on her feet before I can open my mouth.
“Mr. Yates, I know that you weren’t just insulting the director, correct?”
He shakes his head. “No, Mrs. Allen. I was just asking a question.”
She sighs. “Let me be clear, I will not tolerate any disrespect. Anyone who forgets that will face the consequences of Saturday detention or worse. Now, if anyone has questions pertaining to the play, you’re welcome to ask, otherwise, we will not be rude or anything less than grateful, understood?”
I fight back the smirk that I want to give the little girl and the other kid. I know I’m not mature, and I don’t feel bad about that. They just got verbally whacked by Brenna, and I feel victorious.
However, I’m not fifteen, and I channel my inner Noah Frazier. He would never let this shit fly and neither will I.
“I can handle this.” I wink and then turn back to the kids. “Unless any of you are more knowledgeable on set design, costumes, casting, tone, musicality, or putting a scene together, I suggest you not question me. I’ve worked on numerous types of movies and plays. It shouldn’t be you questioning my ability, it’s me evaluating yours. Worry about yourselves, your roles, and impressing me before asking anything else. To be clear, I’m not here for any other reason than because I want to do something to help the community who made me who I am. I will push you hard to be better actors and actresses. I want this to be the best play this town has ever seen. If you’re not up for it, don’t try out. I will cast you for the roles that fit best, even if it’s not the one you signed up to audition for. You have four days to study the lines from the section based on who you’re trying to be casted as. I suggest you take that time and work hard. I’ll see you at four o’clock.”
I grab my packet and head out of the room. There’s nothing like a dramatic exit in show business.
The only issue is, I have no fucking clue where I am. Since I went to school here, they’ve combined the middle school and the high school into one building and built a huge wing. I’m lost, and I would be wasting the dramatic flair I was going for if I have to pass the kids again.
So, I slip into an office on the right and hope to God it’s not some restricted area or a student lounge. Not that we had anything like that when I was a kid, but it seems this generation gets all kinds of crap.
After a few minutes, I figure the coast should be clear and reach for the doorknob, only to freeze when someone on the other side turns it.
Shit.
I step back, and Brenna enters. Her breath hitches as she sees me there. “Jacob.” Her hand flies to her chest. “What are you doing in my office?”
“I’m sorry. I ducked in here to . . .” Saying that I came here to hide makes me sound like a pussy, so I am not admitting that.
“I understand. I was irate on your behalf. I don’t know what is wrong with some of these kids lately. I think they just want to look cool.”
Good, she thinks I was mad. I should’ve gone with that. “It’s fine. I would’ve done the same shit at their age.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I would’ve been hiding under the seat.”
“Because?”
“I would’ve been far too embarrassed. Well, I probably wouldn’t have been in the auditorium in the first place.”
I try to imagine what group she would’ve been with then. If she doesn’t like attention, it wasn’t sports or drama. I wonder if she was a loner or more like Devney, who was pretty but not exactly popular. She much preferred to sit and watch Sean than try to fit in with any group.
Brenna, though, she has me stumped.
“Were you in the band?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t sing or play an instrument.”
“Hmm, so no chorus. Sports?” I ask because my assumption could be wrong.
“I did cross country.”
Goes back to the thing about being alone. I could never have done it. Running for miles doesn’t sound like fun, but more than that, it’s fucking isolating. Just me and my thoughts for however long, no thanks.
“So, no to the music cliques, cross country isn’t really a jock thing, so that leaves us with what?”
“You’re trying to group me?” she asks with a raised brow. Her voice is playful, and I smirk.
“Kids run in packs.”
“Not all of them.”
