Guess who transferred into my history class...ARLO! He's now Mrs. Piccola's aide. He does absolutely nothing except flirt with girls and grades our homework. Of course, he has to circle everything I did wrong in bright red, and he always makes sure my paper is on top, so when it gets passed around class, everyone sees. Ugh. What a turd. He follows me around like a bad smell I can't rid of. How do I get rid of him, Freddy?? HOW?! Maybe I need to come up with an Arlo repellent heavy on the REPEL. -Georgie aka Alexx
Alex scooped a small portion of carrots onto her plate and passed the bowl to her mom. She frowned at Alex's tiny hill and added until it was a mountain. "So yeah," Alex continued, holding back a shudder. Finishing the carrots would be easier if they had a dog. Not that there was much room for one. They were squeezed in a little nook by the kitchen. Alex had to shuffle sideways to even get to her seat. "It's pretty neat Keya thought of me."
Her mom smiled, pride shining in her eyes. "That's wonderful, sweetheart."
Her dad, still in his blue nursing scrubs, cut into his chicken. "You're going to do it, aren't you?"
Alex hesitated. "Well—"
"What about the Playhouse auditions tomorrow?" her mom asked. "Am I not driving you there?"
Alex stabbed a carrot with her fork and sighed. "I'm still going. I haven't said I'd take Keya up on her offer." Although it was tempting—very, very tempting. It even invaded her dreams, taunting her with a standing ovation as faceless bodies praised her for her designs.
Her mom frowned. "Why wouldn't you? You're talented. You deserve to show off your skills."
"Because it'd be betraying Georgie. I can't do that."
Her parents exchanged looks that had her hackles rising. Glances like that were never a good sign.
"Sweetie," her mom started with that calm and gentle voice that always meant Alex was going to hate whatever she was going to say. "We're glad you have a strong friendship, but that doesn't mean it gets to dictate your life. You can pursue your own hobbies. Have your own goals."
Was that really what they thought about her? Defensive and a bit hurt, Alex said, "You make it sound like I'm following her around like a clueless puppy. I happened to love musicals before I met Georgie. That's the reason we became friends. I was humming a Wicked song, and she overheard."
"We understand that all I'm saying is..." Her mom looked at her dad with big eyes.
He stepped in. "What we're saying is that you love different aspects of the theater and maybe it's time to pursue what you're passionate about. If Alexx wasn't at Playhouse would you join the high school club?"
Good question. She tapped the carrot against her lip.
"Well?" her dad pressed.
Alex bit the inside of her lip and slowly nodded. Keya offered her a dream role. In any other scenario, she'd jump at the chance.
Her dad patted the top of her head and said gently, "All we're saying is true friendships don't hold people back. They lift them up."
"And think how great it'll look on your college application," her mom interjected. She pointed to the carrots on Alex's plate and mouthed, "Eat."
Alex nibbled on the carrot and swallowed it down with orange juice. Maybe she could hide a couple under the mash potatoes. "I'm not even thinking about colleges yet."
At least not the traditional types. She'd been playing with the idea of fashion school, but she could already hear the moans of despair. Getting a bachelor degree was number one on her parent's "Alex Must Accomplish Before We Die" list. They wanted her to follow her dreams, but she had to get a degree first. That way she could support herself if things didn't pan out.
It was the smart, sensible thing to do, but Alex didn't want smart and sensible. Smart and sensible took precious time that could be spent learning the fashion industry.
"You should," her mom countered. "We'll need all the scholarship money and financial aid we can get."
A knot of tension formed in Alex's shoulders. Money. A never-ending issue between her parents. She hoped it wouldn't turn into another screaming match. When she was little, Alex would hide under the covers and pretend she couldn't hear them ripping into each other. Her parents had a way of turning any topic into an argument about money. If they were superheroes that would be their gift, or curse, in this case.
"Alex, are you listening?" Her mom tapped her fork against the plate. "These things are important. We don't have the money like the Lorde's. If you get into your dream school, and we can't afford it, then you can't go. Period. There's no nest egg squirreled away to save the day."
"I know," Alex said sharply. They repeated it so often it was burned into her brain in big, bold letters.
"Hey," her dad snapped. He rarely reprimanded Alex for anything, but show the slightest sign of disrespect and bam—he was on her like glue. "Don't talk to your mother in that tone. We're explaining this for your benefit."
Alex wasn't ignorant. She understood they worked hard for every penny, grinding out the hours, and then scrimping and saving so they could afford small treats like going to the movies or eating out. She loved her parents for it, but almost every conversation about her future ended in talk of money.
Yes, money was crucial—she saw it every time she was at the mall with Alexx—but for once could they not make it seem like the money apocalypse was approaching?
Alex was only fifteen. She had decades of worrying ahead of her. Couldn't they allow her a few more years of teenage bliss?
***
After dinner, Alex locked herself in her room, and turned on her music, turning up the volume until she could feel the bass beating in her chest. She suffered through an hour of their agonizing lectures, jumping from colleges to jobs, to how she would be able to afford textbooks and living on her own. Her head pounded as pressure compounded on her chest, making her feel trapped.
She wanted to scream, to let it all out and let the world know how she was feeling.
But the world wouldn't care.
But Alexx would...
Grabbing the notebook, she laid across her bed and turned to an empty page.
Georgie,
First of all, I'm sorry it took me this long. I could pretend I was too busy, but that's just an excuse because I'm never too busy for you. You're my friend. My best friend and that means something. So why the delay? Well, the truth is I wasn't sure how to respond. Not because you wrote anything wrong because you one hundred percent didn't, but because I didn't want to mess this up.
Before I go any further, I'd like to add a rule to our notebook. Along with being open, we should not let more than three days go by without writing back. Whaddya say?
Okay, back to your mom. I know she's a touchy subject. That's why I never asked about her because I didn't want to bring up painful memories, but maybe I should have been asking. I'm sorry if that came off as disinterest. It wasn't. But I'm happy you decided to confide in me. You know you always can.
Secondly, you have nothing—I repeat NOTHING—to be guilty of. She's your mom. You have every right to ask about her. And if Lance and Hugo can't understand that, then that's their problem. Your feelings are YOURS and yours alone. They can't judge you on them just like you can't judge them on theirs.
Thirdly, I hate that you're going through this. I wish there were some magic potion or spell I could use to help, but there isn't (Screw Hogwarts for not sending us our wizarding letters.) I suppose this is what people call "gray" area. There is no right or wrong. If you miss your mom, you miss her. I can tell you not to judge yourself for it, but that's easy for me to say. I'm not in your shoes, but if I were, I'd like to think I'd miss her too.
I hope you know that I think you're incredible. You're strong and independent and so outgoing. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be friendless right now with a bunch of stuffed animals to keep me company.
I'm here for you, no matter what. Just say the word.
As for being open, there is one thing that's been bothering me, and I need to vent. It's my parents.
She wrote about the constant nagging and lectures that could be turned into a Ted Talk at this point.
Money is a sore spot for them. When my grandma had breast cancer, my parents sold our house to pay for the treatment and moved into this apartment. I understand why they keep drilling into me the importance of scholarships and being frugal, but I wish it weren't a constant stream of attacks.
No, attack isn't the right word...actually, it kind of is. It feels that way when they get on a roll—punch after punch like I'm recklessly spending their money when it couldn't be further from the truth.
It's like they don't trust me, and that hurts. I'm a good kid. I've never gotten in trouble. I do what I'm told. So why act like I don't know how to be responsible?
I wish there were a way to prove to them—
An idea hit Alex like a wrecking ball.
If she took Keya up on her offer...
But no. She couldn't do that.
Could she?
***
The next day, her mom got called into work, so she arranged for Sloane's mom to pick her up for auditions.
"Mom," she whined, her stomach twisting. "You know I'm not hanging out with them."
"Stop complaining. Be happy you have someone willing to give you a ride, so you don't have to take the bus."
As Alex sat in the backseat, she silently fumed. She could have gotten a ride from Alexx if her mom had told her earlier. Then she wouldn't be in this uncomfortable situation because damn, it was painful. Mrs. Sheehan kept giving her probing looks in the rearview mirror, probably wondering why Alex had stopped carpooling with them to and from school.
"What have you been up to, Alex?" Mrs. Sheenan asked. "We haven't seen you in a while."
She latched onto her seatbelt like it was a life preserver. "Oh, just um, the usual. School and all that."
"Did you hear Sloane's sister made the all-star softball team?"
"No, I didn't."
She politely listened as Mrs. Sheehan chattered away. It was a welcome relief because it meant she didn't have to try and fill the silence. Suddenly, she felt eyes trained on her. She looked over to see Sloane staring, a mulish expression on her face. Alex tried to smile, but she was afraid it came out as more of a grimace.
"So, uh, who are you auditioning for?" Alex asked.
Bri answered in that calm and quiet voice. "We're not auditioning. We're going to support Alexx."
"Oh." They'd never gone to support Alexx before, so why now?
"What about you?" Bri asked. "Are you auditioning?"
"Yeah, but it's nothing major. I'm mostly going so I can talk to Wendy." And hopefully, talk her way into getting a more significant part in the costume department. She saw Bri and Sloane exchanging looks. What was that about?
When they arrived, she thanked Mrs. Sheehan and hurried away. Alexx was busy warming up, so she slipped the notebook into Alexx's bag and took her seat in the auditorium.
Over the next hour, she watched as people were called up one by one to audition on the big stage. When it was Alexx's turn, she clapped loudly, wishing her best friend luck.
No luck was needed. Alexx sounded like an angel as she belted the final note to I Feel Pretty, a song from Westside Story. Her best friend was getting the part. No other girl came close to matching her talent.
Her time slot was coming up, so Alex headed outside to warm up. She wasn't auditioning for a big role, in fact, it only had a couple of lines, but she didn't want to look like an idiot up there, so she practiced the vocal exercises Alexx recommended.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alexx step out of the theater surrounded by Sloane and Bri. She could hear them talking, assuring Alexx she would get the role of Maria. Then they started making plans to celebrate. Of course, Alex wasn't included. Not that she blamed them, but she was surprised, and a little hurt Alexx didn't mention her.
Pivoting, she moved further down so she wouldn't see or hear them. She needed to concentrate.
She was repeating her lines when Wendy spotted her. Alex held back a groan and painted on a smile as Wendy walked over. Alex didn't know much about the older woman except she lived and breathed for Playhouse, but Alex had heard rumbles that the reason Wendy was such a sourpuss was because her fiancé left her at the alter.
"Alexandria," Wendy greeted in a low voice. She refused to call Alex by anything but her full name.
"Hi, Wendy." She kept her tone light and airy. Honey is better than vinegar, she reminded herself. "You going to audition this year?"
"I'm here to observe. Randy likes my input about who would look best in what." A sly look entered her eyes. "He trusts my judgment and my judgement alone."
Talk about subtle. Wendy should pee on the building and make it official. Alex didn't know why Randy, the director, was enamored with Wendy. She did an okay job, but she constantly had her nose stuck in the air or up his butt. Maybe that's why he liked her.
Wendy motioned to a tall, raven-haired girl talking to a couple of the stagehands. "Have you met Libby? She's a student at the local college."
Puzzled as to why Wendy would point her out, Alex shook her head. "I haven't yet." She was pretty in that classical Hollywood way. Delicate features with a slim frame. More Audrey Hepburn than Marilyn Monroe.
Wendy was smug as a cat as she said, "I'll have to introduce you two, especially because you'll be working under her. She's my new assistant costume designer."
Blood started to roar in Alex's ears. "W-What did you say?"
"She's my new assistant designer. Randy said we had the budget this year to hire help and I just knew she would be perfect the job."
Alex rarely got physical, but at the moment, she wanted to smack the smug smile off Wendy's face so badly. SO BADLY.
After all the hours, all the free labor she gave to this place, Alex deserved that job. Sure, she was only a high school student, but she was good—damn good—and anyone with two eyes could see it. To have the job go to some nobody who never had even stepped foot in Playhouse before...
Anger boiled. She had to get away before she said or did something she'd regret. Without looking at Wendy, Alex half-ran, half-stomped to the small yard in the back of the theater. She drew her hand into a tight fist and let all her pain, all her fury fly.
Bam.
Knuckles hit bark.
The oak tree wasn't fazed, but Alex shook her hand and jumped from foot to foot, yelping, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"
"What's going on back there?"
That was Hugo's voice. Suddenly, tears started to well in her eyes. She couldn't let him see her like this. "Everything's fine. Just a little accident." She bet Wendy was cackling like the witch she was. She probably sent Hugo here to seal the deal on her humiliation.
"Alex?" Hugo asked. He ran into the courtyard. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the blood on her knuckles. He quickly scanned the area, but when he didn't see anyone, he honed back in on her. "What happened?"
"Nothing." She hid her hand behind her back. "Absolutely nothing."
He stepped towards her, and she took a step back. He took another step, and she did the same. "Alex, let me see."
She shook her head so hard, her ponytail loosened and baby hairs fell into her face. "Nope." It was all too much. She was on emotion overload, and she felt the cracks in her foundation start to break.
"You're being ridiculous," he said, coming at her. They continued their little dance until she was backed up against the tree trunk with nowhere to go.
Hugo planted his hands on either side of her, caging her in. "Alex," he said, a determined glint in his eye. "What's going on?"