Chapter 16
Rue
It feels impossible to focus on Monday afternoon’s rehearsal.
To my surprise, the novelty of the sound booth hasn’t worn off, despite being forced to watch this musical unfold instead of acting and singing in it.
I’ve actually been enjoying this aspect of theater more than I thought I would.
The only problem is Miss Fern’s dialogue and song lyrics being so cringey that seeing Meredith and Carlton trying to make them work is painful.
I mean, the second-hand embarrassment is bad enough.
But I know if anyone can take this shoddy musical our young, loopy instructor put together and make it passable, it’s my friends.
I adjust a dial on the board and glance at the stage.
Thanks to the light crew up in the rafters, the stage lights throw warm pools of gold across the floor.
The sound of Meredith’s and Carlton’s sneakers squeaks against the stage throughout rehearsal.
Thanks to all the cues, I’m plenty distracted the entire time with my duty, despite the way my focus keeps wanting to drift to Ezra sitting next to me.
Things feel different between us since I had dinner at his house last night.
I’ve been thinking about it nonstop, and I may or may not have skipped lunch to avoid seeing him at my table.
But now, being trapped in a tiny booth with him and his clean laundry and cologne smell, my heart has absolutely no chill.
No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to feel at home with his family and remember all the reasons I miss him. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything, especially not when his gaze devoured mine as he told me he’s always seen me.
But I do.
Ezra peeks at me from the corner of his eye when rehearsal ends. “You good? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
He arches an eyebrow. A little smirk is already on his lips. “Really? Because it kinda seems like you’re avoiding me.”
“No way. Not me.”
He laughs. “That was very convincing.”
“I just need to clear my head. Especially when it comes to you.”
“Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry if you still hate me for what I did to you all those years ago.” Ezra winces. “I hate myself for it, too. But I need you to believe me. I will never hurt you again, and I’m more sorry than you know.”
My heart goes still. Is that what he thinks is wrong? Little does he know it’s the opposite, that I like him too much, if anything. “Thank you. I don’t hate you, Ez. Maybe I did once, but I don’t anymore.”
The only thing I hate are these new feelings that keep blooming. I’d much rather they wither.
I risk a glance at him. On his face is an expression with so much hope, it makes my chest squeeze. “You don’t hate me?”
I sigh. “No. I forgive you.”
His grin widens. “For real?”
“You heard me.”
“So, this means we’re friends again?”
I laugh. “Look, don’t push it. Just because you’re forgiven doesn’t mean things can just go back to how they were before.”
“Believe me,” he murmurs, leveling his gaze with mine. Some of the humor fades from his expression, leaving his eyes slightly hooded. “I don’t want that either.”
My mouth runs dry. What does that mean? I’m tempted to flat-out ask, when Miss Fern pops into the doorway. “Good job today, you two. See you next rehearsal.”
Part of me wonders when she’ll deem me good enough to operate the soundboard without Ezra’s help.
In reality, I haven’t needed his help since the first rehearsal, but I know neither of us is going to be the one to tell her.
When she leaves, Ezra and I stay seated.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand before getting out of his chair and heading for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
The soft smile on his lips makes me blush. I feel dizzy. “Okay.”
I get up and leave a few minutes after him, because it takes me longer than I’d like to admit to collect myself. And the worst part? It’s not until I’m down a new corridor and halfway down one of the many staircases that I pat my skirt pocket and realize I don’t have my phone.
No. No way did I leave it back there.
My stomach drops as I realize what this could mean. Yeah, I have a password on my phone, but it could be guessed eventually. And if someone got access to what I’ve been up to, they’d learn I’m the new Little Birdie.
No, Rue. The odds of that happening are low. You’re just thinking irrationally because you’re panicking.
Still, I sprint back the way I came, heart crashing through my chest.
I should have changed my ways when I saw Ezra’s homework on the verses stating why God doesn’t like gossip. Is this my punishment? I was just trying to find my voice for once, and this platform is helping me do it.
My breathing is insanely loud as I burst through the sound booth door. Under my seat, the light from my phone screen shines like a beacon of hope. I snatch it up and clutch it to my chest.
Crisis averted.
But as I make my way out of the theater, I hear the sound of Carlton’s voice. What in the world?
Hiding behind one of the curves in the wall, I try to make out what he’s muttering.
“I don’t know, Mabel,” Carlton says, his voice low but tense. “It’s just hard, okay? I don’t know how to talk about it with anyone else.”
I frown. Mabel?
She answers softly, “You don’t have to, like, hide it from me. You can tell me things. I’m always here for you, C.”
I press my back against the wall outside the booth, my brain spinning. Carlton’s voice comes out hesitant, almost pleading. “Thanks. I just don’t want to overwhelm Meredith. But you get it. You always have.”
What is he talking about? And why can’t he talk to Meredith about whatever it is?
Then my brain scrambles for a way to understand.
Does Carlton secretly have a thing for Mabel now?
Is this some kind of twisted plan to get close to her?
By pretending she’s the only one he can talk to?
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Carlton, it’s that he has no problem going from one girl to the next.
And Mabel—sweet, well-meaning Mabel—she’d never see it coming until it’s too late.
My phone feels like a hot coal in my hand, practically burning my skin with the weight of this new secret.
I want to pretend everything is totally fine. I want to ignore the icky feeling in my gut, but if I did, I’d be lying to myself.
The two of them shouldn’t be keeping secrets. Not with the way Meredith treats anyone who talks to Carlton when she’s not around. And not with the way Carlton likes to flirt with every girl he knows and then gaslight them into believing they imagined it.
As I walk out of the theater, my pulse won’t settle.
If Carlton’s really trying to target Mabel next, then I’m sitting on a story even Little Birdie would hesitate to touch.
Who am I? When did this happen—me fighting the urge to spread the gossip I used to run from? What is Little Birdie turning me into?
I’m not sure I know the answer. I want to believe being Little Birdie is innocent. That I’m just trying to flip the script for once and use the platform for good. But deep down, I’m not sure if what I currently want to do is the right thing or not.
Be bold, Rue, my mom always says. Telling Meredith to her face would probably be the bold thing to do. But I’m not that bold, yet. Gossiping anonymously isn’t the same as confronting her, but it’s still proactive, right?
I know everyone thinks I’m boring, and for the first time, I’m not. Being Little Birdie is the most interesting thing about me. Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time giving it up.
But this situation is different. Wouldn’t it be wrong of me to stay quiet this time?
I stop halfway down the hallway and close my eyes for a second.
God… I don’t know what to do. If I’m supposed to say something, help me be brave enough to do it the right way, even if it’s not the way I want to.