Mrs. Klein had lost all control twenty minutes ago and showed no signs of reclaiming it any time soon.
“I don’t hate musicals,” Martin said.
This was a lie and we all knew it.
I exchanged a look with Avery, one of the girls who was sweet as could be but never landed anything bigger than the chorus or the odd one-liner in straight dramas. She didn’t seem to care, which made her all the more likeable. Unlike the rest of us, she was just here for fun and didn’t have big dreams of shining in the spotlight.
She arched her brows as Martin kept talking about how a musical done right wasn’t bad, but…blah blah blah. Martin was a playwright snob. He might be trying to appease the musical folks right now, but anyone who’d worked with him had heard his speeches about the artistic merit of an Andrew Lloyd Weber show.
“What we need is to focus on the absurdists this year,” Martin said. “Which is why I am telling you that Waiting for Godot is exactly what we need.”
I heard a groan from behind me and turned to see Simone rolling her eyes. I grinned and she looked down quickly, like she was embarrassed she’d been caught.
The girl was quiet and seemingly sweet—which meant I had no idea what she was doing hanging around with Jax.
I hadn’t really understood their relationship when he and I had dated and it made even less sense now. I studied her as she stared straight ahead. I hoped beyond hope that she wasn’t in love with him.
The guy was an alphahole of the highest order. Don’t get me wrong. I’d had fun hanging out with him for a little while, but I was glad I’d ended it when I had. If I hadn’t? He would have. I could feel him pulling away with each passing second. He was a commitment-phobe, and all he wanted from a girl was someone to hook up with at the next party.
He was exactly the kind of guy I’d made it my rule to avoid.
Could you imagine if I’d actually gone and fallen for a guy like that?
Goodbye dreams, hello heartbreak.
“The budget!” Mrs. Klein’s voice was sharp with urgency. Almost panic, as she fought for the crowd’s attention. “That’s what this all comes down to. Now about that…”
The room grew eerily quiet and even Mrs. Klein didn’t seem certain of what she was supposed to do with that level of attention once she had it. She cleared her throat. “Before we go any further, we need to discuss the annual fundraiser—”
“I’ll do it.” My hand shot up. All eyes were on me and I smiled.
I loved attention. I lived for it. I mean, that was why I was planning on being world-famous, after all.
“Oh!” Mrs. Klein’s eyes widened as she patted her short gray curls. “That was…easier than I thought.”
She’d sort of muttered the last part, and I assumed that was my cue to take over. “Okay, peeps, listen up.” I clapped my hands as I strode up toward the stage. “This year we’re not just doing cupcakes and a bake sale.”
“We’re not?” Mrs. Klein asked.
“No.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I have a plan. We’re going to raise enough money to fund all of our shows this year—and yes, Bianca, that includes a musical. And we’ll even have enough left over to donate to the theater department for future generations.”
Okay, maybe generations was a bit of a stretch. But it sounded good, didn’t it?
I heard the door in the back click open but didn’t let myself get distracted. I had a plan. I had a goal. Nothing and no one would get in my way, not even—
Oh crap. What was he doing here?
Jax leaned against the door in the back. If he were sporting a leather jacket and a cigarette he’d have been the spitting image of James Dean.
As it was, he wore a dark hoodie and faded, ripped jeans and… Well, he was still the spitting image of James Dean. Lakeview High’s very own rebel without a cause.
“How?” The question came from the direction of the band geeks in the corner and I gave my head a little shake before fixing the entire section with a beaming smile of confidence.
“A fair.”
“A…what?” Bianca asked.
“A fair. You know, like a festival.”
More blank stares. “You know, like the end of Grease?”
“Ooh,” Bianca said. The room filled with murmurs and excitement.
Mrs. Klein looked scared. “We’ve never done a fair before.”
I softened my smile and aimed for reassuring. “I’ll handle everything.”
Had I ever run a fair before? No. But how hard could it be? I saw the danged things in TV shows and movies all the time. It would take recruiting a bunch of volunteers and donations, but I was nothing if not an actress. And my new role?
Organizer extraordinaire.
Do-gooder of the decade.
I was going to take home the prize, and these people were going to help.
“Well this all sounds…exciting.” Mrs. Klein still looked terrified.
I held up the clipboard I’d brought with me today. “I’ll be looking for volunteers to help so stop by and sign up when you have a chance.”
Silence.
I sighed with a sort of maternal patience I’d learned from Mrs. Klein freshman year. “Unless you don’t want to have any performances this year…”
That got people moving.
I shouted over them as I handed over the clipboard. “What do you say we do a silent vote for which show we do first semester? Leave a slip of paper with your choice in the box I set up over there.”
Mrs. Klein blinked slowly and I gave her a little wink. She grinned back. Anything to avoid conflict, was her motto.
My motto? If the winning vote wasn’t what I wanted? None would be the wiser.
The room emptied out quickly after that and I took my sweet time. My mom let me use her old
