His eyes turn to me. The hazel is practically mocking, and even though I don't react, there's no way he doesn't notice the way my face warms when he stares at me a beat too long.
Jo would kill me. It's enough to get it from Amy, but me too? God.
_...
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"A new play, written by Miss Jo March, will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course of the next few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen before on the American stage..." Meg drawls, twitching her mustache as all four of her younger sisters giggle hysterically.
What a spectacle we are, dressed in top hats and holding pipes in our mouths, fake mustaches pressed to our upper lips and heavy suit jackets strewn over our shoulders. I sit in a big arm chair beside Jo, who's wild aubern hair is in a messy French braid she begged for this morning.
We might bicker a lot, but when it comes to her hair, Jo is sensible.
"Starring the greatest actress from here to the Mississippi River, Miss Meg March." Said sister adds, grinning proudly with her newest manuscript clutched in an ink stained grasp.
"Weekly report!" Meg peers down at the newspaper in her hands, then eyes each one of us suspiciously. "Meg and Lillian— Good. Jo— Bad. Beth— Very Good. Amy— Middling."
Jo shoves my leg jovially and I giggle, happy when she gets in these sorts of playful moods. It's all due to the writing—the sun revolves around Jo March, and when she writes, it shines.
"Excellent," Beth giggles, while Amy says, "Well done, sirs."
Meg, being done with the report, comes over and hops onto my lap with a giggle as Jo rises to speak. Meg shifts around for a second to get comfortable and I wrap my arms around her waist, much like a mother would do with a young child.
"Mr. President and gentlemen, I wish to propose the admission of a new member." She begins, smiling conspiratorially. "One who highly deserves the honor, would be deeply grateful, and would add immensely to the spirit of the club. May I have a drumroll please?"
We all stomp our feet charismatically, broad grins covering each rosy cheeked face. Jo stares each of us down in turn, before throwing her arms up in the air.
"I propose Mr. Theodore Laurence!" She cheers, and my heart skips a beat.
What?
Meg stiffens on my lap and crosses her arms over her chest, turning to give me a look. Beth and Amy exchange cursory glances, and then Meg huffs before speaking.
