Hannah just stared at me as if waiting for more.
I dropped my spoon with a clang. “This is a disaster, Hannah!”
Her lips twitched with amusement the way they always did when I was having a freakout over something she deemed unworthy of freakouts.
Which was pretty much everything.
Hannah was chill like that. Unless the topic was soccer, she never really got worked up. She barely even cried when her long-term boyfriend dumped her via text last year.
I, on the other hand, could get riled over just about anything. Some people claimed this made me melodramatic. I knew it just meant that I was an actress, thank you very much.
“Rose, you still have…” She held up her fingers and silently ticked off months. “A solid six months to find a new monologue.”
“No, I have six months to choose, memorize, rehearse, and perfect a new monologue,” I said. “And on top of that, I still have to work on the classical one.” I arched my brows. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to master Shakespeare?”
Hannah gave me a regretful grimace. “I really don’t.”
“It’s hard,” I said, picking up my spoon to snag another bite before the bell rang. “Take my word for it.”
“I believe you,” she said. “But you’re the best actress in the school.” Her smile was sweetly encouraging. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
I gave a little huff of amusement. Hannah was seriously the best bestie anyone could hope for. Having her in your corner was like having your very own pep squad.
“What’s this really about?” she asked.
I toyed with my spoon, trailing it along the edge of the container to get the last bite. “It just threw me off, that’s all.”
Hannah stayed silent. Ugh. Sometimes she knew me too well.
I sighed as I met her unwavering stare. “Okay, fine, maybe I’m overreacting—”
“You think?” she said mildly.
“But it’s just that…I have to win.” I looked down at the table. I wasn’t sure how else to put it so she’d understand. Hannah didn’t really understand my desire for fame, my need to be a big star…but she did understand winning. On the soccer field she was as competitive as they came.
This wasn’t exactly the same thing. I mean, I wasn’t all that competitive with the other girls—I didn’t even know most of them. But if I got this scholarship, it meant something.
It would mean that I was good.
That I was the best.
It would mean that my mom and her passive aggressive put-downs could go suck it because I had talent.
I shoved the spoon in my mouth as Hannah studied me. Her brows drew down as she frowned. “You’re worried you won’t win.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Duh. Of course that’s why I’m nervous.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t think you’re a good enough actress?”
I stiffened. “I didn’t say that. Of course I’m good.” I meant to stop talking, but sometimes when Hannah just sat there watching me like this—all quiet and sincere—words just tumbled out. “But everyone competing for these scholarships is good. Every actress performing at the competition is the best in her school. I can’t just be good…I have to be the best.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Hannah nodded slowly. “It’s a lot of pressure. I guess… If I were in your shoes and I was preparing for a big soccer tournament, I’d probably seek some outside help. Some extra coaching to give me every advantage and maybe even an extra edge.” She shrugged. “I’d do everything in my power to make sure I was as good as I could be.”
I hitched my lips to the side as I considered that. “So, what? Like, an acting coach?”
Hannah nodded quickly. “Yeah, like an acting coach.”
I thought it over. Her idea was…brilliant, actually. If I had someone other than our nice but not at all talented school director Mrs. Klein working with me, maybe I could nail this thing. “That’s a really great idea, Hannah,” I said. “Except…” I sighed as my shoulders slumped with dejection. “How am I supposed to pay for something like that?”
She eyed my designer purse meaningfully. “I can give you the name of three different consignment sites that would be happy to get that off your hands.”
My brows shot up in horror. “And risk the wrath of Mommy Dearest? Are you out of your mind?”
She snickered a bit at the nickname I’d stolen from the movie Mommie Dearest. My mother wasn’t quite as bad as Joan Crawford was made out to be, but she was no treat either. I’d become known in this school for my killer style and my expensive clothes, but that was because making sure I looked good was my mother’s idea of good parenting.
The brightly colored hair? That was my big act of rebellion. Or it had been until my mom realized that I could pull it off. Now she bought my hair dyes for me and coached me on the right eyeliner to pair it with. So annoying.
“Nope,” I said. “There’s no way she’d be okay with me ‘losing’ some of her favorite pieces. Even when she’s done with them and gives them to me, she keeps track of them.”
Hannah remained optimistic. “Maybe a part-time job?”
“On top of the fall production rehearsals and schoolwork?” I shook my head. “I’d never be able to pull together enough hours at some minimum-wage job to make enough.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said.
I nodded. I would. I definitely would. First I’d find out who the best acting coach was in this area and then I’d figure out how to pay for them. “You’re right. I always get what I want when I set my sights on something, right?”
Hannah nodded emphatically, ever the cheerleader. “Of course you do.”
“Right.” I stabbed the yogurt container one last time and came up empty. “Thanks, Hannah.”
“My pleasure.” She leaned over as if about to let me in on a secret. “But I still think you
