Misfit Theater Company 2

18. My World is Falling Apart

"When did you sign with the agent?"

Who the heck knows what is going on on the stage right now. It's the first act, before I come on as Puck, and we are doing our first full run through rehearsal. That's all I know.

"I just signed with the agent on Thursday. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't think I'd be able to even go to Hollywood at all."

The only thing I can think about right now is Thatcher and my conversation on the couch at Moth's house. Moth had awkwardly sort of line danced out of the room to give us our space. Probably because he could hear the hurt in my voice as I asked questions, and in Thatcher's voice as he provided answers.

"Yeah, how is this even possible? Your dad is letting this happen."

"My grandma agreed to fund the trips and take me. Once I'm out there I'm actually going to stay with Patti and her dad."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thatcher takes the stage, his arm around Paige's shoulders, but I honestly can't even process it. I still feel like I've been punched in the gut, ever since I found out Thatcher had planned all of this behind my back.

"So you're going to stay out there?"

"Okay, Thatcher and Paige," Mrs. Permala directs, "this is where I'd like your characters to kiss for the first time."

I finally look up and focus on the stage. This is where Patti would hold my hand to show her support if she were here, or Moth would put his hand on my shoulder if he weren't backstage for his entrance soon. But I'm alone.

Thatcher leans down. He and Paige exchange a quick peck. My stomach churns, the same sickening way it did yesterday when Thatcher answered:

"Yes, I'm leaving after the play is over."

I divert my gaze from Thatcher and Paige to my ring, but it's not helping to remind me that Thatcher loves me. He is going to leave after this play. We aren't going to have any more opportunities this year to be in a play together, and the one we are in only makes me feel more anxious about our relationship.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

No, really, I'm going to throw up.

The seat bounces up with a loud spring as I hurry out of the black box theater, out to the hallway, and just barely into the bathroom before my breakfast comes hurling out of me.

The nightmare plays out for a minute or so before I'm able to sit back on the cold tile floor and cry. At this point, I'm not entirely sure why I'm crying. It could be because that's always what I do after I throw up, or it could be because Thatcher and Paige kissed, or it could be because my world is falling apart.

Whatever it is, hot tears pour down my cheeks.

"Janie, are you in here?" someone asks.

It sounds like Layla, but that can't be right.

"I see you down there. It's Layla."

Oh, okay, I guess I was wrong.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and push myself to stand. With a turn of the stall latch, I reveal myself to Layla, catching my bright red face and puffy eyes in the mirror before I can effectively cover up my sadness.

"Girl, get your shit together, we are going on stage soon, and you, like, kind of made a scene. It's theater, everyone has to kiss people they don't want to at some point, so it's not that big of a deal," she says, resting her hand on her hip.

"It's not just that, but okay, thanks for the support."

She rolls her eyes. "What's going on?" she asks insincerely.

"You know how Patti left for Hollywood?"

Now her eye roll is even more dramatic. "Not you too."

"No. Thatcher."

"That makes more sense."

"You don't have to be a bitch," I say, first as a mumble and then as almost an uncontrollable growl.

Her eyes and mouth widen in surprise. "What did you just call me?"

Well, there's no turning back now. I take a deep breath.

"You've been a huge bitch to me, Layla. I have literally never given you any reason to be mean to me, but the only time you were ever nice to me was when you were just pretending to be to get me to join your group. I'm obviously going through a thing, so continuing to be a bitch to me is the very last thing I need. You can go, I can pull myself together on my own."

She leans her hands back on the sink counter. "You're right. But you didn't earn your place in Ensemble. You didn't go through the semesters of theater classes developing your skills, and then you get rewarded for it. Not because you're good, but because you threw a fit and got your way. So I apologize if I'm jealous that you have gotten all the opportunities I deserved. Thatcher deserves it. Patti, as much as I hate to say it, deserves it. Moth, too, if he hasn't been approached yet. But I deserve it more than you. Most people in this class deserve it more than you."

I literally have to bite my tongue before responding and take a few deep breaths to calm my anger.

"You know, usually people apologize when someone calls them a bitch," I say.

To my surprise, she cracks a smile. "I'm not most people. But sorry. I think you ought to apologize to me too, though."

I can't help but laugh. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you called me a bitch." She smiles again.

"I'm sorry I called you out."

"I'm sorry I called you out."

I take a deep breath. "Do I still look like I've been crying?"

"Yeah, you should wave your hands in front of your face to cool yourself down."

I do as she suggests.

"Better," she says. "You know... you're still a bunch of misfits, whether you're together or not."

I smile. "That was still sort of bitchy, but also sort of sweet."

She brushes the blonde hair from her shoulder. "That's my specialty. Now let's get back in there. One more word of advice though: Milk the anger about Thatcher's kiss with Paige until you get something sparkly out of it."

I flash my ring in her face.

She applauds. "Not bad."

I laugh as I follow her out of the bathroom and back into the theater. Her words linger in my head: Not the ones about getting something sparkly from Thatcher, the ones about still being misfits, together or not. It gives me an idea. All I'll need to do is remember to find Mrs. Larkin, my forgiving and amazing sewing teacher from last year, before I leave school for the day.