Before
Shae
BY THE TIME PRACTICE wrapped up Shae’s arms burned with a satisfying ache. Rowing always did this—left her hollowed out and wired. Her lungs still stung, and her muscles were like tiny heartbeats beneath her skin.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm and peeled off her thin splash jacket, the cool air hitting her damp skin beneath.
She tossed it across her shoulder and headed toward the stone steps at the back of the field house.
The sky had dimmed to that soft, gray blue that came early in Boston fall, the brisk air nipping at her nose and ears.
Amber called from somewhere behind her, and Shae whipped around at the sound. Amber jogged after her, taking a breather once she caught up.
“Hey, can I get a ride home with you today? If not, I have to wait for my brother, and he’s running the lighting for the theater. They're going late tonight.” She ripped her thermal top over her head, a deep sigh escaping her. “Dress rehearsal. The opening show for Les Misérables is this weekend.”
“Sure, why not. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.”
The two headed down the corridor to the locker room and gathered their things. Neither one of them bothered to shower. They slung their backpacks over their shoulders and headed out across the quad.
“Mind if we make a pit stop at the PAC?” Amber asked. “I just want to let my brother know, and I doubt he’s next to his phone.”
“Yeah, sure. We’ve got some time.” Shae agreed.
The performance arts building was quiet but for a teacher's voice, which you could vaguely hear booming instructions from somewhere down the hall. Amber left Shae at the entrance, heading up to the second floor. Shae wandered down the corridor toward the open doors of the PAC.
A voice—clear and melodious carried down the hall, and Shae slowed.
The sound drifted through the open doors from the black box theater off the main hall, the piano following carefully along.
Shae stepped closer, stopping short of the doorway.
From where she stood, she could see Em standing alone on the stage.
She was barefoot, one hand braced lightly against the back of a chair, the other curled loosely at her side.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a low knot, loose strands escaping at her neck.
She wore a simple, faded dress in soft gray.
The fabric hung loosely from her shoulders and was worn thin at the edges.
She didn’t appear at all timid or nervous. She was focused and confident. A side of her that Shae only saw glimpses of until this point.
Her voice filled the space, rich and controlled, lifting and falling with the music as she sang about dreaming.
Tingles rushed down Shae’s spine to her arms as Em carried every note with ease, every breath intentional.
Shae brought her hand to her chest, her head sinking back against the wall as she listened.
When the final note faded, there was a brief, suspended silence.
Shae shot away from the wall and burst into the theatre, clapping wildly.
“Bravo.”
Em startled, spinning toward the sound, eyes wide for half a second before recognition set in. Shae heard a giggle come from Em’s mic that sent a warm flutter rolling through her.
Behind them, the theater director cleared his throat pointedly.
“Miss Hemingway,” he said dryly, “unless you’re planning to join us, I believe you were heading somewhere else.”
Shae lifted her hands in surrender. “Already going.”
She backed toward the door, eyes never leaving Em. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “You were incredible!” She called out.
“Miss Hemingway!” The director demanded.
Em’s cheeks flushed faintly, but her smile lingered. She gave a tiny wave as Shae exited the theater.
Amber was standing down the hall, in the middle of the corridor, her phone in hand.
“Shae! Where were you?” Amber slipped her phone into the pocket of her backpack. “I was just about to text you.”
“Just watching the rehearsal while I waited,” Shae said, hurrying past Amber for the doors. “Come on.”
They crossed the green to the circle drive, and Shae unzipped her backpack, reaching in to grab her phone.
“Well, looks like my mom’s running late too, believe it or not.”
Shae threw her backpack on the ground and sat down on it, and Amber joined her.
“How late is she?”
“ETA is six forty-five.” Shae held up her phone. “So, fifteen more minutes.”
“Well, I’m going to run to the bathroom then.”
Amber hurried down the walk and back into the PAC. Shae opened her phone again, toggled to Em’s name, and hit messages.
Shae (6:31 PM): Umm, amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could sing? Guess we all have our secrets. ??
Cars started pulling into the circular drive, the lights hitting Shae square in the eyes. She stood lazily, bending to fish her splash jacket from her bag before slipping it on.
The door to the PAC swung open, and students began trailing out. Shae dropped her phone into her backpack, zipped it closed, and hauled it over her shoulder.
Em was fiddling with her hair, pulling it loose from the bun and letting it fall. There was a much taller guy next to her. Em smiled up at him, giggling at whatever he’d said. Shae found a spot on the ground to focus on.
“Hey Hemingway!” Em said as she drew closer. “You wandering around here looking for trouble?”
“Ha!” Shae said, “I only do that when there’s a chance of being caught.”
“I see.” Em chuckled, glancing down, her smile lingering as she drew in her bottom lip, grazing her teeth across it.
“I’m waiting for June.” Shae flashed a look at the boy standing next to Em, and Em followed her gaze.
“Hey, have you guys met? Shae, this is Elliot. Elliot, Shae.”
“Hey,” Shae said, quieter than usual.
“He’s my neighbor.” Em caught the boy's eyebrows narrowing as his smile faded with the comment. “And friend,” she added.
Amber ran up behind them, swooping her backpack up from the ground and lugging it over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she said, brightly. “Em, right? I’m Amber,” she said, offering out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve formally met, but I’ve heard a lot about you.” Amber cast a glance at Shae. “All good things.”
Em shook her hand, and the four of them stood there silent for a second. A honk broke the silence, and Shae stood.
“That’s us,” Shae said, turning to Amber. The two girls climbed into the backseat, and the car pulled away. Shae glanced out her window to see Em and Elliot piling into the back of Em’s mom’s black Range Rover. The phone chimed in her backpack, and she reached in to grab it.
Em (6:53 PM): I love how you always know how to make me smile. That’s my real secret. What’s yours?