Chapter 21
LACHLAN
Scraping a hand through my hair, I take a deep breath and let it out noisily.
Last night was the usual fighting, but tonight, for once, the house is quiet.
Ivy and my mom took Q to see an animated kids’ movie, and my uncle and grandma went out for dinner, so I figure I should use the time to read Browser History.
I bite my lip. I have a lead role in the school musical …
opposite Isak. The one person in my life who makes everything heightened and topsy-turvy.
The one guy I do my absolute best not to think about.
Not about his tousled dark hair that’s straight out of a rock star photo shoot or his intelligent, bright eyes.
Or his fuck-you attitude regarding what he wears.
Read the damn script.
I dig the script, with its red photocopied cover, out from my backpack.
The black plastic comb binding is slightly too small for the number of pages, and it makes a crunching noise when I crack it open.
I pick up a pink highlighter from my desk drawer, make a face, then discard it and grab a blue one.
Tilting back in the straight wooden chair, I balance my weight on two of its legs, resting my bare feet on the top of my desk.
With the script in my lap, I begin to read. My character, Billy, shows up on page two. I uncap my highlighter with my teeth and neatly mark the dialogue. My lines take up most of the next two pages. Skimming ahead, I see that Billy is in almost every scene. What’s more …
Tingles sweep up the back of my neck and across my face. Oh, god. What have I gotten myself into? Before the end of act one, Billy and Forest seem to be falling for each other.
Maybe I’m reading it wrong.
Don’t chicken out now. Rehearsals are going to mean a lot of time away from home—exactly what you’ve been wanting. You want to do this, and you can do this. Just practice. No one’s here to listen.
And it means you get to spend more time with Isak.
I whisper my first lines, glancing around like I’m doing something Uncle Norm wouldn’t approve of. Well, he wouldn’t approve of me doing musical theater, I don’t think, much less musical theater with a gay theme.
Weird that I can sing out loud in the car, but say lines in my bedroom, even when I’m alone in the house? Nope. Maybe because this feels more subversive.
Keep reading. I do, and I keep highlighting and whispering the lines. And highlighting more and more. Fuck. I have a lot of lines. How am I going to memorize all this?
Trust the process. Isak told me that.
Don’t think about Isak.
I get to the first song I have to sing by myself, and my chest tightens.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Dude, you can do this.
It’s no different from when it’s the fourth quarter, we’re down by six points, and you need to find an open receiver.
All eyes are on you then, too. The idea calms me down somewhat, and I keep reading.
The song is cool—about scrolling on a phone and opening a portal to doom—and I grin. I keep highlighting and saying the lines quietly. Mom, Ivy, and Quinton are back from the movie by the time I’m in the middle of act two and I read the stage direction Billy kisses Forest.
Wait. What? My entire body is zapped, like I’ve stuck my finger in a socket.
Billy.
Kisses.
Forest.
Fuck. Isak was cast as Forest. I have to kiss Isak? I mean Forest? Onstage? In front of the entire world?
My cheeks burn like I pressed a hot iron to them.
Isak’s freckles, warm mouth, and inviting lips.
No. Fuck, no. I don’t kiss him. I can’t kiss him. I can’t do this.
I can’t pretend to be falling in love with him.
I stand up, throwing the script to the floor. I’m tempted to bolt from the room, but instead I stalk around, a Bengal tiger caged in a zoo.
If I can’t kiss Isak in private, there’s absolutely no fucking way I can kiss him in front of the entire school. I whip out my phone and am texting before I’ve thought about what I’m going to say.
Me
I just read the script.
Isak
It’s good, right?
I glare at the phone screen. What the fuck is he thinking? There’s nothing good about us acting like lovers onstage. It will out us.
Everyone will know about us—and that can’t happen.
Wait. Us? What am I thinking? There’s no us.
Me
Yeah.
But.
F and B kiss.
Isak
*stage kiss
Thought you knew
Me
No.
Isak
RU ok w that
Me
No.
I can’t do it.
No matter how many times I refresh my phone, Isak doesn’t respond.
I’m the biggest asshole on the planet. The most fearful coward. But do I have a choice?
Not with my family.
Fuck this shit. I pick the script up from the floor and throw it into the trash with so much force that the bin tips over. I right it, paste on a smile, and go out to find Ivy giving Q a bath. I spend the rest of the weekend avoiding my room and giving the script in the trash can a wide berth.
But I ignore the X-Acto knife hidden in the desk drawer, too, even though I keep thinking of the release it would give me. The thinking part of my brain battles my impulse, though, and right now, I’m not going to cut myself. So, win?
On Monday, I get to school early and find Ms. Laurent in the theater, working on her laptop. I clear my throat and dig in my bag for the script, which I retrieved from the trash when I realized I needed to return it.
Ms. Laurent turns and smiles at me, but then she must catch the look on my face, because her eyebrows furrow and she tilts her head. “Good morning, Lachlan. What’s going on?”
Just say it. “I can’t participate in the musical.” I hold the script out to her like it’s radioactive. “I’m sorry for wasting your time. And for writing in this. Whoever gets my part will already have some of it highlighted for them.”
She frowns and stands. My heart squeezes. I hate disappointing people. “May I ask why?”
Dammit. Why can’t she simply accept my decision and move along? I set the script on her desk.
“It’s not the right project for me.” I can find another job that will keep me out of the house.
Ms. Laurent’s penetrating gaze seems to bore deep into me. The moment stretches like saltwater taffy.
As the seconds tick by, I want to explain myself, but I can’t tell her … things about myself. Things no one but Isak knows.
I need to fill the silence, and eventually the dam bursts.
“I haven’t sung in public before.” Which is absolutely, entirely, totally true, even if it’s not the reason I’m backing out.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I guess I’m scared.
I don’t want people to laugh at me. I don’t think I can pull this off.
There are so many lines to memorize. This is going to be hard. ”
My stomach clenches, and I lick my lips.
I’m such a chickenshit. I jam my trembling, clammy hands into my armpits.
“Is that all?” she asks, studying me with an analytical eye.
I nod.
“It’s not that you’re worried about the relationship between the two male leads?”
Fuck. She knows. How? I drop my chin to my chest. “People in my life aren’t open to alternative sexualities,” I mumble.
I don’t want to say that my uncle, the mayor who gives lip service to LGBTQ+ rights, is a raging homophobe.
Or that I might be—or rather, am—something. A word I don’t admit to myself.
Ms. Laurent gives me a warm, understanding smile that makes my eyes hot. Fuck, don’t be nice. I don’t want anyone to be nice about this. Just leave me alone. Finally, she says, “I’m sorry people in your life aren’t accepting. Do you think participating would put you in danger?”
Would it? I don’t think Uncle Norm would get violent about a school show. He’d be pissed, but what else is new? He’s always pissed.
A weird feeling comes over me, but I override it. Besides, I can’t let other people know how much of an asshole he is. If word got to him that I was badmouthing the family, it wouldn’t be pretty.
I shrug. “I don’t think … I don’t … No. There’s no danger.” Why do I feel like that might be a lie? “After all, I’m straight. This would only be an act.”
I’m not sure how convincing I sound, but she seems to accept my statement.
“Of course, I wouldn’t want you to do anything that you don’t consent to.
But if your concern relates to the kissing scene, keep in mind, this is a high school production.
We’re not looking for anything R-rated. Is that the issue? ”
“No. I mean, I didn’t think it would go too far,” I say, and my cheeks heat. I need to stop making this such a big deal. People kiss all the time in movies. I assume it’s the same in musicals. “I’m just not totally comfortable with it.”
It’s not only the kiss that’s the problem, though. Through weeks of rehearsals, and then for two hours every night in front of an audience, I’d have to act like I’m falling in love with Isak.
That part would be easy. The problem would be behaving like I don’t care about him once we leave the stage … when I do. I care about him a lot.
How the hell will I ever be able to pull this off? Either I’ll be panned for being a bad actor because I won’t be free to show my emotions onstage, or I’ll be accused of being in love with Isak for real. Which … I can’t be.
“I can’t be” isn’t the same as “I’m not,” Lachlan.
Totally not in love with him whatsoever. I just maybe have a few feelings about him. That’s all.
She must see skepticism or conflict on my face, because she continues, “I appreciate that playing this role may be awkward for you, and if you truly don’t feel you can do it, I’ll respect your choice. But I think this could be an important learning experience for you.”
There’s a tap at the door, and Mrs. Olson from the front office pokes her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but did you see my email?”
Ms. Laurent winces. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll submit the attendance. One moment.” She holds up a finger and turns back to me. “Lachlan, you have a gift, and all of us on the casting team believe you will add a lot to the show. It wouldn’t be the same without you. You matter, and your voice matters.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, but I don’t mean it. Let me off the hook, dammit. Fix this so I can back out and I won’t have to expose any true feelings onstage. Any true feelings I don’t want to share.
“Not only does your voice matter, but this story matters. The more diverse stories we tell, the more people learn about humanity. It’s important to not have only the same old stories out there forever.”
“True.”
Another understanding smile, while Mrs. Olson waits.
“Tell you what: Will you consider it overnight? I appreciate your not waiting until the last minute to come to me about this—I appreciate it very much—but one more day isn’t going to make that much of a difference.
And I truly hope you’ll see your way clear to playing this role. ”
I nod and blow out a breath. “I’ll sleep on it.”
She looks relieved, and I realize she’ll have to rearrange all the casting if I back out. Still, I shouldn’t feel guilty about not doing something that isn’t right for me. It’s my life, not hers.
Could I do this? It’s a role. Only acting. It’s not real. No one needs to know anything between Isak and me is real.
Because it’s not. There is no Isak and me.
Maybe I can prove to everyone that I have some talent. They can believe I’m pretending to be in love with Isak’s character.
And my family won’t go see the performance anyway. They never go to my football games. Why would they go to this?
I’m going to do this, aren’t I? Dammit.
I say goodbye, nodding to Mrs. Olson, too, and shove the script back into my bag.
That evening, holding Q and rocking him to sleep while Ivy, Mom, and Uncle Norm go at it, I know I won’t have any peace at home. I need an excuse to stay the fuck away from this place, and the truth is, there’s nothing else I could come up with that would eat up as much time as the musical.
I whisper to Q things I wish Mom would’ve told me. Like he’s safe. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be big and strong and smart. He can be anything he wants.
Be courageous, Lachlan.
I tell myself to shut up.