Standing for Weirdo

Chapter 12

I left the fire exit and tried very hard not to think about what had happened there. In a way, I guessed, it had not been significant. It had been a short conversation, plagued by more silences than words, and, as far as conversations went, it hadn’t been too deep either. Of course, this only made my feelings harder to understand, because I never became nervous talking, much less talking to a guy, and much less talking to a guy like Trevor.

Except, perhaps that’s the issue. I think of him as Trevor now, not as the nameless, faceless music I listen to at night and certainly not as the emo-goth-weird kid of school.

Realization hit me as I rushed along the empty corridors to our theater meeting, but I didn’t have time to ponder on the implications.

I burst into our classroom.

“I’m so sorry for being late, Professor,” I said, speaking over Ashley's voice with vindictive smugness.

Mr. Hedford didn’t look too chipper today.

“Not to worry, not to worry. Miss Brighton here was just informing me of the terrible accident of yesterday. It seems we have lost our chance at an original soundtrack…”

The students from younger years, who had not been around during the “accident,” started whispering among themselves, looking devastated. It helped to solidify my own resolve.

“We still have the scores, Professor,” Ashley was saying. “I have a friend outside school who can play the piano; perhaps we can get him to help?”

I didn’t wait to find out whether the professor would turn the offer down. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You will play?” Ashley gave me a disdainful look, and I could see that she actually wanted me to say yes to free up the role of Lady Windermere for her.

God, she really was a Queen… Trevor was right.

“Trevor will play,” I said aloud, smiling sweetly at her before turning to Mr. Hedford. “His guitar got dumped, but it’s not broken. I went to talk to him about it, and he’s still willing to be part of the project.”

I said “dumped” on purpose. I wanted Mr. Hedford to realize that it had been no accident at all, but the idea might not have come across. In any case, judging by the bright smile in his usually too pompous face, Ashley could kiss her plot goodbye.

Of course, she would try to get him to quit again. Perhaps she’d even try to really break his guitar, but we’d cross that bridge when we got to it. Since she already had her revenge on him for bustling Stella, she’d have to find new excuses or the rest of the group wouldn’t back her. Well, we’d give her no excuses.

Or something.

“That is amazing!” exclaimed our professor. “I must thank you for being late today, Ms. Jones. I imagine this conversation was the reason for your tardiness?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Good, good. Please, do let Mr. Bennett know that he’s welcome to come and practice at the auditorium any time, if he needs a place. Now, since we have the decor and the music, shall we start reading the lines?”

Cheering. Wild cheering.

And no amount of death stares from Ashley could wipe the smug grin off my face.

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