Rory
That night, with her face moisturized, her hair brushed, and all her homework finished and saved into the proper folders,
before checking the sign-up form for tryouts. When she opened them again, her heart sank. There were still only three people
signed up. Two were freshmen she’d searched for in the school directory and found to be, well, a little too scrawny to be
throwing girls into the air. The third was Gordon Goldschmidt, a junior who had tried out when they were freshmen and had
been rejected for having zero rhythm and even less coordination.
Maybe he’d been taking dance classes after school for the past couple of years?
Rory sighed, disappointment settling in her gut, and rolled over to turn off her bedside lamp.
She still had tomorrow to drum up some interest. Maybe she should target the wrestling team.
Any of them would be strong enough to take Stuart’s place.
Layla used to date Dean Albert, one of the captains, and had serious dirt on all of them.
At this point, Rory was not opposed to some light blackmail.
There was a quiet knock on her door. Rory glanced at her phone again—it was after eleven. Owen should definitely be asleep
by now.
“Come in?”
Her mother poked her head into the room, her curly brown hair falling out of its ponytail. Rory hadn’t even realized she was
home. “Hey, hon! I’m so glad I caught you.”
“Hey, Mom.” Rory stifled a yawn and pushed herself up straighter in bed. “Dad left you a plate in the fridge.”
“Oh, yeah, I saw. Thanks, kiddo.” Her mom sat her lithe, spandex-clad butt on Rory’s bed. She wore a wide-necked black sweatshirt
over a white tank top, and the collar shifted to expose her tiny shoulder. There was nothing about Rory’s mom that wasn’t
tiny, aside from her voice. The woman could belt out the entire soundtrack of Wicked loud enough to reach beyond the cheap seats without breaking a sweat.
“How are rehearsals going?” Rory asked, glancing at the time. She had to get to sleep if she was going to survive her history
test, her AP bio lab, and cheer practice tomorrow. But she loved hearing her mom’s stories about the theater. Whenever her mother talked about her work, she completely lit up.
“Oh, all’s well. Jaden isn’t off book yet, which is typical, but he’ll get there. Enough about me, though. How was your day?”
her mom asked. “Did you find a replacement for Stuart?”
Rory sighed. “No. It’s not that easy, Mom. People aren’t exactly lining up to join us so far into the season.”
“This is why you should always have an understudy,” her mother said, clearly only half joking. “We can be very useful, you
know.”
“I know, I know.” Rory’s mom had spent most of her Broadway career in the ensemble and understudying for the bigger roles.
“Please remind me of that when we have tryouts in the spring. I will definitely be taking alternates this year.”
“Anything else going on? Tests this week or anything?” her mom asked, getting up and smoothing out the bottom of Rory’s comforter.
“Nothing big,” Rory said. “Oh, but I didn’t get to tell you about Jacob Reilly and the bake sale.”
“Oh, Lord, what did that boy do now?” Rory’s mother asked, crossing her arms over her chest, ready for a good story. Her mom
knew all about Rory’s long history with Jacob and how his pranks and jokes tortured her. By the time she was done relaying
the Girl Scout cookie debacle, her mother couldn’t stop laughing.
“It’s not funny!” Rory cried, though she couldn’t help laughing when her mom laughed. “He’s such a jerk.”
“Oh, Rory. Come on. He’s totally in love with you!”
Rory’s jaw dropped. “What? No. You’re cracked. He’s just an immature jerk who needs to be the center of attention at all times.”
“That may be partially true, but then why are his pranks always focused on you? He’s trying to get your attention.” Her mother shook her head. “Haven’t you ever heard that whole thing about how boys torture girls on the playground
because they like them?”
“Jeez, Mom, next you’re going to tell me ‘boys will be boys.’ ” But she was blushing. Did her subconscious believe in this
insanity?
“I know, it doesn’t excuse truly bad behavior. But that boy definitely likes you. I’ve always thought it was obvious,” her
mother said. “So try not to be too hard on him.” She leaned over and kissed Rory’s temple. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Thanks. Good night,” Rory said.
As she lay back on her pillow, Rory wondered if her mom could possibly be right about Jacob.
But there was no way. He’d been messing with her for years.
If he’d liked her all that time, why hadn’t he ever done anything about it?
Not that she would have jumped at the chance to go out with the guy who had once stolen all her Valentine’s Day cards and replaced them with WWE collector cards. She rolled her eyes at the memory.
Rory rolled onto her side, and as she drifted off into semiconsciousness, she started to dream of a troupe of skinny-armed
boys hoisting her over their head . . . and dropping her into a pit full of Girl Scout cookies.