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chapter four

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The girl with an apparent obsession with pink was back at Emily's locker, trying to attach a glitter-framed mirror to the inside of the door. Her hair was pulled into another braid and she wore a bright pink cardigan, neon pink socks, and a black corduroy skirt.

I watched her as I filled my water bottle at the fountain. She slowly retracted her fingers from the mirror, a hesitant expression on her face. When it stuck, she grinned triumphantly, like she'd accomplished something more than just adhering a decorative mirror to a locker. She was brushing the glitter off her hands when I heard my name being called from behind me.

"Clara!"

Water spilled over my fingertips as I jumped. Mrs. Foley, smiling through turquoise lips, was waving her hand in the air as she approached me, wearing an olive-green vest over an orange T-shirt. She wore khakis at school, but whenever I saw her in the grocery store or something, she had on drawstring pants messily hacked off into shorts.

Mrs. Foley was someone who simultaneously did and did not seem like a music teacher. She wore weird lipstick shades and wooden clogs that clacked against the floors when she walked. Not only did she direct the school musicals but she organized fundraisers almost monthly to keep the school glee club open. Her insistence that I audition for the musical was how I'd first got to know Mrs. Foley. She'd noticed I didn't have enough change at a vending machine and given me a dollar, saying the only way she wanted me to pay her back was by trying out for the school's spring production, Mamma Mia.

She'd said I could just be in the background if I wanted and stay out of everyone's way, including the audience's. Then when I auditioned, she gave me the role of Sophie Sheridan, the main role of the musical. I almost backed out when I found out, but Mrs. Foley convinced me not to, telling me to trust her on this one.

"Hey, Clara," she greeted me. "How are you? We miss you in practices."

"Hey, Mrs. Foley."

She watched me for a moment as I twisted the lid onto my tumbler, slowly so I could focus on something other than her standing there expectantly. "Bex misses you too. She says that you haven't talked in a few months." Ten to be exact, I wanted to say, but I didn't. Instead I hoped that she'd just leave on her own so I wouldn't have to respond.

Mrs. Foley sighed. I looked up for long enough to see the defeated look in her eyes that drowned out the sparkle I normally saw in them. "Listen, honey-pie, I know things suck for you right now. But we're here for you! Even if you don't want to be involved in the spring musical—which would break my heart because we're doing Shrek and I think you'd be a perfect Fiona—we're still your friends." She smiled but when I looked away, she shrugged. "But it's all up to you, honey-pie."

I nodded, mumbling, "I really have to get to class."

The sky was bright blue that afternoon as I headed through the school doors. I was on the second to last step when my fingers brushed against something as I went to move my hair from my face—something soft, warm, and polyester. I turned to see Kolby Rutledge staring at me, going the opposite way up the stairs, as my hand touched his vest.

"Hey," I said dumbly, quickly retracting my hand and shoving it into my pocket. Somehow it still felt like I was touching his vest, the sleekness against my fingers. "Sorry. I wasn't looking."

He nodded as if he already knew this, and maybe he did.

"It's okay," he told me. Kolby had always had a deep voice. Not weird deep or James Earl Jones deep, but just deep, and I remembered how much Mrs. Foley loved it. She was always pestering him about auditioning for a musical, but he turned her down each time. He was quiet, and used the least amount of words possible in each sentence. I wondered if that was because he didn't like talking or if he just didn't like talking to me.

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