Tuesday & Max

39

NOBODY CAN TELL YA

THERE'S ONLY ONE SONG WORTH SINGING

Julia takes the train with Tuesday on the second night, so she finds herself early as she scurries excitedly down the corridor toward the dressing room.

"Bullshit!"

Uh-oh.

Voices blast out of the half-open door.

"You really can't, Alexis—"

"Give me my costume."

"No..."

Tuesday pushes the door open warily. Harry, the twins and Niamh stand in front of the costume rack as if they're guarding it; other cast members litter the room but Candice, Alexis and Jon are in the middle of a standoff in the centre of it all.

"Of course. Here she is. Right on time," Alexis greets her, voice full of venom.

"What's going on?" Tuesday asks.

"We think that—" Candice starts.

"They're giving you my part," Alexis says flatly. "I auditioned, I got it, I learned all my lines and the songs, and now they're giving it to you."

Tuesday's eyes drift to Alexis' ankle. Underneath the hem of her jeans, it's swollen and purple. "Did you get that checked out?" she asks, almost repulsed by the severity of the bruise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Alexis explodes.

"I'm sorry! I just—it looks really bad. You can't go on like that, can you? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Let's just cut the shit, alright?" Alexis says, abandoning her position against Candice and Jon in favour of stepping up to Tuesday instead. Her face is hard but her brown eyes are full of hurt. "You wanted the fucking part. You sing my lines all the time to make sure everyone knows you can, you made my dress too small so it fits you better, and I bet you told everyone your little sob story, didn't you?"

This gets people's attention.

"I didn't do anything."

"No?" Alexis says, panting slightly. "So nobody knows about your mom?"

"Alexis!" Harry tries to interject, eyes flashing furiously.

"They just feel sorry for you," Alexis snarls. Tuesday can feel her breath, the poison of her words twirling up her nose and sending her light-headed. "Poor little Tuesday. Her mom gets through cancer, then dies in a car accident that almost kills her daughter as well." Her voice wavers, cracks, like it understands the weight of her hateful words but can't stop them from coming. "Who can say no to that?"

The room falls silent but for the faint breaths of the cast and crew, and Tuesday's own heartbeat in her ears.

"Take it," Alexis says, forcing her well-annotated script into Tuesday's hand. The edges of the paper dig in, slicing through the soft, damp skin, and suddenly the words are framed on one side in red. It seems fitting, somehow. Tuesday doesn't gasp. Her fist, palm stinging with pain, closes tighter around the script.

Alexis storms away and others follow; some, potentially, to comfort her, but others simply desperate to escape the awkward situation.

"That was awful, that was so awful..." Candice blabbers, looking at Tuesday like she's about to break into a million pieces.