Chapter 6
Rue
I stare at my phone.
My first post displayed on the Little Birdie admin console lights up my screen. Even with nominations being a thing, I never thought I’d actually get chosen.
Who signed me up, and why? Do I really have to do this now? But the rules are staring me back in the face, taunting me.
Welcome, Little Birdie.
You have three months as the new admin. In order to fulfill your duty, you must post at least twice weekly.
Your deadlines each week are Wednesday and Sunday at 8:00 PM.
One blast each week may be a repost of a piece of gossip from your inbox, but the other must be an original observation from you.
Failure to comply will result in your identity being exposed and a new admin being selected.
Sure, I could have just never posted at all and let myself be outed immediately and passed right over.
But as soon as I realized my regular Little Birdie app interface had transformed into the admin console, and I’d been the one selected…
I don’t know. It sort of felt like a golden opportunity.
One I’ve never had before. One I should at least try.
Maybe Meredith was right. Maybe all this time, I’ve just been wanting someone to finally pick me.
Below the instructions is a checkmark indicating that I’ve fulfilled my duty for the week by posting.
My heart is hammering as I read what I wrote, because the power of my new role is suddenly overwhelming.
People are going to know how I talk. They’ll guess it’s me, I thought.
Unless I hide behind the way the old Little Birdie talked.
The crazy part is that I hardly had to try.
At first, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to sound like the old Little Birdie, but the narrative voice of the gossiper was easy enough to replicate.
Thanks to all the times me and my friends have been mentioned, I’ve read plenty of posts.
When the blank screen first appeared, all it said was:
What should I tell everyone about?
So, I wrote out what happened at Dot’s party, and the rest of the details came spilling out in Little Birdie’s voice as I entered them. It was actually kind of…fun. In a creative way, of course.
And there’s a bonus silver lining to me being chosen as Little Birdie. I can decide to only use this new role for good. I can use it to show Meredith I’m over Carlton. And this time, it won’t be a lie. After what he said about me, I can’t imagine ever trusting him again.
What I didn’t expect is the opportunity I now have, thanks to Ezra being mentioned. Now that everyone suspects he’s my boyfriend, I could technically use it to my advantage.
But to do that would mean pretending to be with him.
I can barely stomach the thought of him. How in the world will I tolerate things like hugging, hand-holding, and…
No.
Not kissing.
That’s where I’d have to draw the line if I were to go along with this.
With shaking hands, I lower my phone from my face and try to keep the nerves from my expression.
It was bad enough having Mom question me about Ezra’s letterman jacket I carried inside.
It would be worse for her to question the latest Fallbrook drama because I’m a terrible liar and would be forced to tell her everything.
It’s a miracle she doesn’t already know, because Chanel Sullivan prides herself on her keen intuition. She’s told me many times.
My phone blows up with individual text messages, since our group chat got abandoned when Meredith stopped talking to me.
Dot
Did you see it? Oh, Rue. I’m so sorry…are you really dating Ezra?
Mabel
What happened at Dot’s party? I missed everything because I was in the bathroom!
Carlton
Hey, don’t let it get you down. It will be okay <3
Guilt slices through me as my gaze lingers on the last message.
The one from Carlton. And then my anger intensifies as I read it over and over.
This is exactly the problem. If it weren’t for him secretly being so sweet to me all the time, I wouldn’t come across as the unwanted puppy he claims I am.
How dare he pretend he hasn’t been leading me on in private all this time?
And for him to tell Meredith I mean nothing to him?
Reading his message now feels like swallowing the cure to my crush.
I don’t know what I was thinking all this time. He’s nothing but a two-timing liar.
I just wish I found out sooner, before it ruined things between Meredith and me.
Still staring at his message, I shrink down on the couch next to Mom, where she’s watching her favorite drama show.
She sighs. “Will you put that thing away?”
“I just did.”
“Good. I’m not sitting here because I enjoy the sound of your phone going off. I’m here to find out if the neighbor is really insane or not.”
I force myself to pay attention to the episode we’re watching. It’s our favorite thing to do together—make homemade popcorn and watch overly dramatic shows. And I would be enjoying this one if it weren’t for the Little Birdie thing. The stress of the whole situation is just too much.
I need a plan to write myself a brand-new script. This is my chance to stop being seen as the introverted girl who gets cast aside.
Since there’s no avoiding being posted about, my only option is to utilize what’s being posted to my advantage. Once upon a time, I would have wished for LB to post about me in an appealing way, one that garnered Carlton’s interest and affection. But now? I don’t even know what I want.
“I think I might go to bed early,” I say.
Mom narrows her gaze at me and drops the handful of salty, buttery popcorn she was about to eat. “Are you serious? You feeling alright?”
“Depends on what you consider alright,” I mutter. “I’m really tired.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. Leave me alone down here and get your beauty rest. I’ll tell you what happens in the morning.”
“Thanks.” I shuffle my way upstairs. When I sink into my bed, I read Carlton’s message again. It’s weird that he texted me about the post because Little Birdie plainly addressed my crush on him, yet he still hasn’t addressed it himself. It’s like we were tiptoeing around the truth.
Whatever. My crush on him is dead now, so who cares?
I check social media and notice I have a new follower. When I see who it is, I almost hit the “block” button.
ezra_davis followed you.
ezra_davis liked your photo.
I click to see which photo of mine he liked.
It’s an old one—Meredith took it while we were studying at Tatte Bakery & Cafe in Boston.
I only posted it because she raved about how pretty I looked.
And coming from her, that’s not something to ignore.
But knowing Ezra was just on my page and scrolled down far enough to find this picture makes me blush.
He clearly has no shame, to like such an old photo.
Or maybe he’s doing it on purpose, just to mess with me.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone did.
With a sigh, I turn off my phone and try my best to sleep.
When school arrives on Monday, I leave Ezra’s jacket at home and do my best to ignore all the stares.
Even though the amount of ogling I typically get is much less than poor Dot, Meredith, and Mabel, it still gets to me.
Being a drama student used to mean being part of the original LB’s obsession, so I’ve been posted about here and there before.
But it wasn’t until the blast about me liking Carlton that I became a main topic on the app.
Before that, I’d been able to avoid most of the stares, unless something big happened to Mabel or Meredith and I was ogled simply for hanging out with them.
Thanks to the Carlton blast, I should be used to it by now, but that’s what happens when a wallflower is forced into the light. Instead of blooming, it shrivels up and dies. And right now, I’m in the wilting phase.
I make my way to homeroom, and when I get inside, Meredith is sitting on Carlton’s lap at her desk at the end of the room.
She’s whispering something in his ear, and he touches her cheek in response.
Seeing them entwined makes me sick, so I look away.
Before last night, I would have given anything to be the one entangled with him, for it to have been my face he’s caressing.
But now, the thought makes me want to shove him into a wall.
I don’t understand how Meredith can fall for his act so easily.
But then again, didn’t I fall for it, too? He’s way too convincing, way too good at making people feel special when they talk to him. I swallow back the tears before they can take over.
My homeroom teacher passes out a flier to a few students, including me, Meredith, and Carlton.
When I scan the page, my eyes widen. Apparently, a new drama teacher has finally been hired, just in time to start auditions for Fallbrook’s previously cancelled spring play.
I scan the flier, heart racing as I read about Miss Fern, the new teacher, and the new drama club schedule.
The first meeting is tomorrow after school.
I can’t deny that part of me has been worried Fallbrook wouldn’t be able to find a replacement for Mr. Saltzman this late in the school year.
I love the art of theater and the creative outlet it offers me, and I’m ready to finally have my moment as the lead, regardless of what’s held me back in the past. Offstage, I’ve always been shy and introverted to the point where it’s almost embarrassing.
But on the stage, I have the chance to be how I wish I could in real life.
It’s way easier to pretend to be someone else, to portray someone with this big personality.
At least, it’s easier for me to do than to fully step into who I am.
I don’t like that I’m quiet. But pretending to be someone who’s not has always been easier than actually changing.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never gotten the lead.
Because deep down, I’ve never been able to shake the shy girl thing.
Not this time, though. This is going to be my year. I’m going to get the lead and step out of my shell if it’s the last thing I do.
Rue Sullivan is finally done playing it safe.
My classes thankfully pass without any more drama occurring.
At lunch, I sit with Dot, Zayne, and Lenny again, and after school, I make my way to the classroom where drama club is always held.
It’s strange to be here without Mr. Saltzman.
The room smells faintly like dusty curtains and stage makeup, the same way it always did after rehearsals.
The old prop shelf is still crammed with plastic swords and crooked picture frames from last year’s play.
I can’t help but feel a little offended that he resigned so suddenly, and without telling any of us goodbye.
I miss his friendly eyes and the way he’d always rub his balding head when he was deep in thought.
In his place at the front of the classroom is a blonde, late-twenties or early-thirties woman.
She beams at me as I enter, like she knows me, and does the same to everyone else as the room fills up.
When Carlton, Mabel, and Meredith walk through the door, I avert my gaze to my desk.
Dot and Zayne file in and sit next to me, so I shoot them a grateful look.
As people find their seats, I hear a few whispers mentioning my post as Little Birdie. One girl whispers to her friend, “Did you see it? I wonder when Little Birdie will post next.”
Hearing people talk about it makes panic slosh in my stomach.
Our new teacher takes us all in and tucks her hair behind her ear.
“Hi, everyone. It’s so nice to meet you.
My name is Miss Fern, and I’ll be your new drama teacher.
” She turns on the overhead—yes, Fallbrook does things old-school—and a slide pops up with her photo and a bullet-point list of fun facts about her.
“As you can see, I’m obsessed with cats.
I’m also a recent university graduate who majored in theater with a minor in music composition. ”
My attention drifts to Carlton as Miss Fern continues telling us about herself.
He’s paying close attention, as usual. The way he’s perched on the edge of his seat, gaze locked on hers, makes a smile tug at my lips.
He’s always been so serious about theater, and I know for a fact he’s hoping to get the lead in the spring production.
Until now, I’ve been rooting for him and hoping he would too, but after what he said about me?
I hope he stumbles over every line of dialogue during his audition.
“I have an exciting production planned for everyone,” Miss Fern continues telling us. “An original musical I wrote myself, in fact. Auditions will be held next week. You’ll need to prepare between eight and sixteen bars of a pop song or of something presently on Broadway.”
My stomach drops.
Wait a minute…it’s a musical? Seriously?
Tears burn the back of my throat, and all my hopes for the lead vanish into thin air.
Because I can’t sing, not at all. Fallbrook used to do a musical every other year, but the plays were always more successful.
We never did a musical freshman or sophomore year.
Why should this year be an exception, when I literally cannot hold a tune?
The rest of the class reacts in groans, squeals, and murmurs. At least I know Meredith and Carlton will be excited. They’re both excellent singers.
“We’ll also need many of you to sign up for the crew. As you must know, there are no small parts in theater. We need plenty of you for design crew, tech, run crew, et cetera.” Miss Fern’s blue eyes light up as she talks about it.
I’ve never, not once, chosen to be part of the crew instead of the cast. But for the first time in my life, I don’t see another option. There’s no way I’m going to embarrass myself with some off-key attempt at singing. And it would be nice to avoid Carlton.
I try to imagine what my friends would think if I chose not to participate at all, but I’m not sure how they would react or what I, as Little Birdie, might be forced to say about it, so I push the thought away for later.
I try to pay attention to what Miss Fern is saying about the play she wrote. And I tell myself the last thing I need is to give Little Birdie something to talk about when it comes to me. Because not posting about myself at all would be as good as admitting to everyone I’m her.