"This is all your fault, director's pet. This is a play. I'm not falling in love with you, and I would never ever go out with you, Jack Garrison."
Jack and Shayna can't get through a rehearsal without fighting.
Cheerleader Shayna loathes perfect Ja...
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Once again, I found my uncle pacing back and forth on stage. He was looking at something on his script and frowning.
"Shayna is in a mood," I said.
"Uh-huh," Uncle Anton barely even looked up. "What did you do?"
"Why does everyone assume it was me?" I asked. "I struck up a conversation."
Uncle Anton looked me square in the eye. "Jack, you have to get along with her."
"I've tried," I held up my hands in surrender. "She is unreasonable."
"Have you talked to her about it?" Uncle Anton asked.
I bit back a groan. Everyone thought whatever problem she had with me could be resolved with a simple conversation. She didn't want to talk. That made it kind of hard to have a dialogue.
"I've tried," I said. "I've even asked around. No one knows why she hates me."
"Please, try and get along," Uncle Anton said. "The festival isn't far off. After it's over, I'll take you and the girls camping when Jamie comes to town."
"Your New York City girlfriend?" I laughed. "What makes you think she's a camper?"
Picturing Jamie in a tent was unfathomable. The idea of a triple threat on Broadway sleeping in a tent and gathering firewood was laughable.
Thinking of my sisters in the woods wasn't much better. Mary would be lost, and Maddy would beg for cell service. I'd have to remember to gently let my uncle down about the camping idea later.
"I don't know what to do," Uncle Anton said. "My sister is dying. My play is in disarray. Work with me, Jack. I worry about you."
The others began to file into the theater. Jules and Novah were arguing with Hugh about something. I heard Jules say something about basketball. Rita looked exhausted, and Carson was bopping to music on his headphones.
"Rehearsal is about to start," Uncle Anton said. "Now, I want you to take Shayna aside after rehearsal and talk to her. Do what you have to. Call a truce, but I expect no fighting at future rehearsals."
"I'll try," I said.
Uncle Anton glared at me. "You'll do more than try, son."
"I am not your son," I snapped.
As much as Uncle Anton tried to raise me, he wasn't my father. Fathers were angry and worked way too much. Uncle Anton was fun and shared an apartment with his roommate. He didn't have children or hang around kids other than his actors.
I didn't want to think of him as my father. No matter how much he exerted himself in my life, I'd never think of him that way.
I walked down the stage steps and sat in one of the chairs at the front of the audience. I was tired, and we still had a whole rehearsal to tackle. Then I'd go home and try to keep my father calm.
