Lola gestured around the auditorium like a tour director as she pointed people out. “Everyone in this room has some level of talent and definitely a lot of drive. But some are more of a threat than others.”
Rose’s gaze fixed on a familiar brunette who slid into a seat in the row ahead, not deigning to glance around her, as though she were totally alone in the crowded room. Rose’s voice was a little too loud as she spoke. “And then there are some who you need to watch out for. They’re so competitive they make Tonya Harding look like an angel.”
Layne sank down in her seat as Jenna turned around to stare them down. Clearly she’d recognized herself in that description and didn’t see the need to deny it. If anything, she was probably proud. The girl had a reputation as the ice queen for a reason.
Jenna’s sneer was halfhearted when she saw Rose, but it intensified to a glare when she spotted Lola. “Oh, it’s you.” Jenna sniffed. “I suppose you think you actually stand a shot at taking first in singing, right?” Her smile was cold as ice. “How cute.”
“Good to see you again, too, Jenna,” Lola said in an obnoxiously chipper voice.
Jenna didn’t reply, her gaze shifting to Layne, then dismissing her in a heartbeat. She paused on Lillian. “Who’s this?”
Rose glanced over and saw Lillian staring back with wide eyes, clearly not used to dealing with witches like Jenna on a regular basis.
“Leave her be, Jenna. She’s a dancer,” Rose said.
Jenna’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “Then break a leg, I guess.”
“Gee, thanks,” Lillian muttered, making Layne stifle a laugh beside her.
Jenna had half a mind to make a snide comment about why Layne was even here to begin with—she definitely didn’t belong. But their conversation ended when the same organizer who’d handed out the guidelines cleared her throat at the podium on stage and welcomed them.
What followed was basically a boring rundown of what they could easily have read for themselves.
Northeast Regional Scholarship for the Dramatic Arts, the pamphlet read. Underneath that there were basic requirements. Must be a high school senior, with a certain grade point average and blah blah blah.
This year they were introducing a new category that would reward the person who best contributed to the arts in their community.
Jenna scoffed. Pass. That one was definitely not for her. She was no do-gooder. Not that she was as cold as people made her out to be, but still. Who had time to worry about the community when she had a dream to pursue?
Other than the new category, the rest were the same as they had been every other year since this regional scholarship competition had come about. The categories were listed along with the requirements for each.
• Dance
• Instruments
• Vocals
• Acting
She heard Rose laugh behind her and turned around to glare. She was trying to listen here. Or she would be when they got to the singing part of the competition—the only one that mattered.
Rose held up her handout and pointed to the categories. “Check it out,” she said in a stage whisper that had every student sitting in a three row radius looking over at her. “The first letters of the categories spell out DIVA.” She laughed again. “How perfect is that?”
Lola tipped her head back with a loud laugh. “So perfect.” When she straightened her head she met Jenna’s gaze head-on. “Especially for some people.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Please. Do you think diva is an insult? It’s not. It just means I’m driven.”
To their surprise, Lillian nodded in agreement. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being driven.”
“Or in wanting to be famous,” Rose added.
Lola laughed. “So what are we saying? We should be proud to be divas?”
“Absolutely,” Jenna said.
Layne wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t the term a little chauvinistic?”
Rose shook her head. “Not if we’re claiming the name for ourselves.”
Lola arched a brow at Rose’s utter certainty. “Well I’ve always claimed I was a diva, but I guess you have a point.”
“Think about it,” Lillian said. “People who are driven are strong and determined.”
“They’re intimidating,” Rose added, pursing her lips in a fake scowl that made Lola laugh.
“True,” Layne said, her tone thoughtful. “Maybe being called a diva isn’t such a bad thing.”
“Shhh,” Jenna hissed, turning to face forward as the speaker began to read the section about requirements and judging criteria for vocals.
“If she thinks she’s going to win this one, she has another thing coming,” Lola hissed.
Layne patted her arm.
Lillian arched her brows as she met Rose’s gaze. “I’m really glad I’m not a singer.”
Rose laughed. “You think the dancers will be any less fierce? Think again.”
When they paid attention to the speaker again, she was wrapping up the guidelines and talking about their website where they’d be posting updates before the big competition in April.
“And this year, we’ve added something new,” the organizer said. “Along with adding a Facebook popular vote element to the applicable categories I addressed earlier, we’ve started a Facebook page specifically for the event where you can post your questions and concerns for quick answers. We encourage you all to join to stay in touch in the months leading up to the event.”
“Yeah, because that’s what I want,” Lola murmured. “To be psyched out by my competition for the next seven months.”
“Seriously,” Rose said.
“I don’t know, I think it’s kind of nice to have a place where we can ask questions about the rules,” Lillian said.
“Oh please.” Jenna sounded weary when she turned around. “Social media is just another form of distraction.”
“She has a point,” Layne said as the speaker finished and they grabbed their belongings, heading back out to drop off their official entry forms.
“Who?” Rose asked. “Jenna?”
“Ignore her,” Lola said. “She’s not into social media to begin with. The girl doesn’t even have an Instagram account.”
“Neither do I,” Layne said. “I’m just saying Jenna’s right about it being a distraction.”
“I definitely can’t
