She's A Rainbow

18. god, i hope i get it

We haven't talked in a week.

We haven't talked in. A. Week.

This is the longest I've gone without talking to him, and it sucks. It feels like I'm constantly carrying a giant weight of guilt on my back, and for what?! I'm not the one in the wrong here!

Anyway, I lean against the lockers, observing the crammed hallway. It feels like we're fish swimming in a small tank as I see people move in clusters, backpacks shining under the artificial light. They chatter about stuff that I wish I wasn't so invested in— predicting who's going to be cast in what senior's show, and advice on how to act out the monologues in the "right" way.

I look down at the paper in my hand and mouth the words in my own way, fighting the urge to be influenced by the voices around me.

Then, Sierra emerges from the crowd, tugging her crossed arms. Her once vibrant hair is in faded knots. Her eyes are darkened with smeared mascara. We haven't seen her in a couple days since the dinner incident. But looking at her frail body floating aimlessly amongst a sea of people she hardly knows, it's like seeing an angel lose its wings.

I hook her into a hug, pulling her away from the pit of sweaty underclassmen. She buries her nose in my shoulder.

"There's so many new people," she mumbles. "It feels like I'm right back at square one. I've lost everything."

That's another thing I'm pissed at Aaron for. For making Sierra even sadder. For making her say things she wasn't ready to say.

"Trust me. With how hard you work, you'll book a Netflix role in no time," I reassure her.

She chuckles. "Do you think they're gonna put me in the fucking ensemble again like they did for Grease?"

"We all know you should've been Sandy. Maybe the universe will repay you this time."

Her groan vibrates my skin. "My agent is probably so mad at me right now. Everyone is so mad at me."

"Not true. I'm not mad at you. Iris and Heaven aren't mad at you."

"Annabel has barely talked to me. My mom hasn't looked me in the eye...Are you still going to the dance with Aaron?"

My throat jumps. "Where did that question come from?"

"You haven't talked about him in a while. So, I was wondering."

I frown. "I don't know. I'm not even sure if I want him to be my boyfriend anymore."

"Aww, Kiara," Sierra steps out of the hug and faces me. "I'm gonna be honest. Please don't let Aaron go. He seems like such a sweet guy for you."

"I don't need sweet. I need to know if he has my back or not."

"Well, sweetness wouldn't hurt you. And he's a rich white kid from the suburbs, he's obviously not going to know everything."

I furrow my brow. "It's not my job to educate him. And all the more reason to break up, why would I want to be with someone who doesn't understand me?"

"If he loves you, he'll try. And I have total confidence that he WILL try. He was your partner for the recital, remember? Please give him a second chance. You have it."

My lungs let out a heaving sigh. "He sees the world in a way I wish I did."

Sierra shrugs. "Maybe you need a dreamer in your life. Three-fourths of us are realist as hell."

We see Iris climbing up the stairs, making her way towards the audition line.

"Hey!" She greets while stealing a monologue from the table. "You both look great."

I give her a weak thumbs up. "I know. We definitely have our shit together. Right, Sierra?"

"Oh, for sure. It's not like our lives are imploding at this very second."

Then, I see Iris's face twist in what looks like either regret, or guilt. And all I can think about is how we're not supposed to feel this sad. We're supposed to be hyped like everyone else.

I try to bring up the mood by saying, "Men, am I right?"

Which tickles us enough to laugh. Even if it is slightly painful.

"Do you think Heaven will let us in her show? I mean, it IS about us," Iris says.

"I dunno. Is it right? It seems like favoritism." Sierra adds on.

Aaron's words haunt me again: Do you think you'll get cast in hers?

I scoff. "Who cares. We never point it out to them, they have no right to point it out to us."

Then, one of the juniors supervising the line calls the next person's name into the room.