Chapter 1
Selena
ONE WEEK LATER
Auditions,
Hade Harbor University Drama Department presents:
Much Ado About Nothing.
The paper was taped up on the door of the drama department’s office. It wasn’t exactly in the middle of the door, and it hung slightly crooked and had three strips of tape. I knew that because I’d stared at it over fifty times in the last few days.
I pulled open the heavy door, a stack of books in my hand, and shouted out for someone to come and take them from me. I’d picked up a part-time job in the library. It was a pity position tossed to me by the guidance counselor who’d conducted my leave request interview last year.
I hadn’t been in the best shape. My obvious mental breakdown must have left an impression.
Now, I was less than a week into being back at school for sophomore year. My friends were all juniors now, but I’d taken a year off to crawl out to California and lick my wounds.
The guidance counselor had hoped that I’d come back all healed and recovered. That the land of woo-woo would have helped me commune with my inner goddess or something, but that had not happened. Not even nearly.
She’d been disappointed, to say the least, with my lack of progress. The job in the library was a bone the administration had tossed me to keep me busy, and I really needed the money, so I couldn’t complain. Well, I could, but I shouldn’t.
“Hello? Where do you want these?” I said to the empty office.
Silence met my question.
Oh well. I tried.
I dumped the books on one of the desks with little grace. God, they were heavy. There had been a time once when I wouldn’t have found such a small stack a burden. I’d been young and strong, my body honed by cheerleading.
Remembering those days felt like a joke now.
I left the office and glanced along the hallway.
There were more doors farther down the hall.
What was down there? I couldn’t help but be curious.
The one thing I’d done in California that had been positive in any way was join a drama club.
It had met in the local church’s rec room, right after Girl Scouts and before AA meetings.
I’d started to go hoping that one day, I might just stay in my seat and see what the meeting after was like, but I’d never gotten that far.
I hadn’t expected to find peace in the acting class, but then I shouldn’t have been surprised that pretending to be someone else felt like a relief.
It had been a humble place. Squeaky metal chairs, and a video camera that was older than me. The group had been eccentric as well, but I hadn’t minded that.
It was nice to be the less weird one in a group. A refreshing change.
But we’d never had scripts, or costumes, or auditions, even.
I walked along the hallway, checking the signs on the doors as I went. I spotted a large dressing room, full of mirrors and vanities, plus a few individual ones, and one with a star on the door. Was that for the lead?
Next, the wardrobe room. I pushed the door open, just as a soft cry met my ears.
I jerked to a stop, panic flaring and turning my muscles to stone.
A vaguely familiar girl stood in front of a garment rack packed with costumes.
Her soft brown skin glowed under the spotlights set in the ceiling, her jet-black hair caught up in an intricate braid.
A man stood over her. He had one hand on the rail, and the other on her arm.
“I told you, you got my measurements all wrong. Those pants have way too much room in them… you need to get it right. Feel for yourself,” he was saying.
They weren’t naked, and he wasn’t touching her anywhere but her arm, and yet, the threat of violence hung over the room like a shroud.
Run. Get out of here. Save yourself. You can’t survive it again.
Ice suffused my muscles. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only watch. Just like in my darkest memories, when the worst happened… I couldn’t do anything. I was waiting for it to happen. Shame and guilt and fear so thick it choked me crowded my head. I blinked tears from my eyes.
Then the girl’s dark eyes met mine. I felt the zap of her scared energy run right down my spine.
A moment of kinship and understanding, mighty enough to shake me from my incoming panic attack.
The screaming in my head dulled to a whisper, and I could move again.
Like always, the anger hit next, the guilt and frustration at my own weak response.
I took a second to find my voice, straighten my spine, and take a deep breath.
“Sorry to interrupt, but did you just admit to having a small dick?” I said to the guy.
He flinched and turned, throwing a filthy glare at me. Luckily, turning meant that he had to drop the girl’s arm.
She stepped to the side immediately, moving out of his reach. Good girl.
“What the fuck did you say?” he asked.
I slid my hand into my handbag and faced him down.
“I mean, I’m no seamstress, but if there’s too much room in your pants based on standard measurements, I’d say your dick is smaller than average, no?
” Facing off with a predator successfully meant keeping your nerve.
Confidence, even a flimsy pretense of it, was important.
I’d learned it too late, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use it now that I knew.
His face twisted in embarrassment and anger. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.
I just shrugged, closing my hand around my pepper spray but not taking it out just yet.
“No one really… just,” I looked at the girl, “a witness.”
“No, you’re just a stupid bitch,” he said and started toward me.
“Well, I guess it takes one to know one.” I sighed and pulled the pepper spray out of my bag and shook it, then pointed it at him.
He stopped in his tracks and then stepped back.
“What are you going to do now… stupid bitch?” I couldn’t resist adding.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy, aren’t you? One of those militant, crazy, feminist bitches.”
“Hmm, that’s right, but even better, I’m an armed one. Better get out of here before I lose all reason and spray you anyway. And FYI, this is the least painful thing I have in here.”
He scoffed and glanced at the girl in the corner.
“Don’t look at her, you look at me, asshole,” I ground out.
He stepped closer, and I willed my hand not to shake.
Breathe. Don’t let him scare you. Breathe.
He lingered there, studying me, assessing, like he was deciding how far the pepper spray would go.
“Whatever, you bitches aren’t worth my time,” he finally muttered and stalked out the door, shouldering past me roughly.
My body burned down the side he had forced past.
God. I hated being touched. I considered lighting my left arm on fire to clean it.
“Are you okay?” I asked the girl.
She approached me cautiously and nodded. “I’m okay, thanks to you. He’s usually all talk. I guess he got bored of it.”
“They’re never just all talk… there’s always something else there, waiting,” I murmured and tucked my pepper spray away. “I’m Selena.”
The girl nodded. “I know, kind of. I’m Aisha. I used to room with Lily Williams in freshman year. I feel like you were Winter’s friend.”
Winter. My one true friend. More than I deserved.
“You’re right. I’ve seen you around at the Hellions stuff. Sorry, I’ve forgotten practically everything in the last year.”
“You took a year off?”
I nodded, neglecting to mention why. Luckily, she didn’t ask.
“You’re in the drama club?” Aisha asked as we left the wardrobe room together.
“God, no. I’m not good enough, I’m sure. I was just delivering some books from the library. You?”
“I joined last year, but so far, I’m back of house. Standing on stage in front of people is… the scariest thing I can imagine.”
“So, you want to do it or not?” I wondered.
Aisha considered my words and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t want to be scared of it, so, I have to do it… if that makes sense.”
“It does, but it’s a bravery grade above me, I’m afraid.”
We reached the exit and left. The door swung shut behind us, and I looked longingly at the sign for the auditions.
Aisha watched me. “You don’t have to be in the drama club to audition.”
I turned back to her. “Yeah, I know… but you do have to be brave. That’s the part’s that’s missing for me.”
Aisha raised an elegant black eyebrow at me.
Her gold nose piercing caught the light.
Her face was bare, her skin buttery soft and a warm tawny brown that glowed.
God, she was beautiful. I felt like a bridge troll compared to her, but I wasn’t mad about it.
My days of wanting to stand out were behind me.
“I don’t know… you were plenty brave just a few minutes ago, if you ask me,” she murmured and headed down the hall.
I was eating in the dinner hall when my phone vibrated.
Winter: You said you’d come to the party.
Winter: Now it’s time. I’m waiting.
Winter: You promised.
I sighed and slouched back in my chair. I had my hood up and headphones in to put off anyone from thinking of talking to me, and I was a good three hours into my newest audiobook.
The thought of going to a party was abhorrent.
But my oldest and only friend had gotten it in her head that I’d become too antisocial and I needed to “get out there more”, whatever that meant.
I had no interest in going, but I also didn’t want to upset her. She meant well. Also, I was sleeping rent-free at her apartment and putting quite the damper on her alone time with her boyfriend, so I owed her.
If only I had another place to go, to not overstay my welcome, but the only other option was my mother’s new house, which I’d rather walk over hot coals and sleep behind the cafeteria dumpster than go to willingly, so I was in a bind.
Man, it really sucked to be friendless, paranoid, and hating your new stepdad all at once.
Such was life.
I sipped on the strawberry milk I’d picked up as a sweet treat, because it was delicious, nutritious, and most importantly, cheap, and sent Winter a message.
Me: Fine, I’m coming, but only because you’ve twisted my arm and I’m assuming there will be alcohol there. See you soon.
The thought of alcohol perked up my mood.
I checked my watch. It was after nine. It was fine.
If I only drank after nine, then I didn’t have a problem.
I was in control. The reassurance felt flimsy even to me, and I tried to ignore how the very thought of drinking had my mouth watering with anticipation and my pulse racing.
I sipped my milk and gazed across the dinner hall. A group of cheerleaders had come in, their uniform achingly familiar. They talked loudly, uncaring who heard. Enjoying the attention of being the chosen, lithe, and beautiful.
I knew how they felt. I’d once been just like them.
Before the mask had slipped off the world and I’d understood… I’d seen everything from upside down, and now, I could never unsee it.
One of them glanced at me, and her eyebrows went up. I recognized her. She’d been a freshman along with me, two years ago. She pushed her head into the circle of her friends, and then in unison, they all turned to stare at me.
Curiosity wreathed their faces, some shock, a lot of disgust, and a little fear. They were afraid that what had happened to me could happen to them. Scared that their safe, pretty lives could swiftly go off-track, like mine had.
I knew what they saw when they assessed me.
Bedhead hair I hid behind, an oversized plaid shirt open over a RATM T-shirt.
Long sleeves, always, no matter the weather.
Chipped black nail polish and ripped jeans and shit-kicking boots.
Pierced septum and lip. I wore a uniform, too.
It told people to stay back. It told men to look the other way.
Nothing to see here. Nothing for you, good sir.
Stay away.
They continued to stare. I got up, ready to move. I had to walk near them to throw my trash away. They whispered as I passed by.
I turned and locked eyes with one of them. Hers widened, and she seemed genuinely scared for a second.
“Boo,” I called and stuck my pierced tongue out.
They gasped.
To them I’d become a witch, a weirdo, a freak. Their words, not mine. I’d heard them enough since I’d been back, always whispered, never said to my face.
I might be a fucking coward, but they were, too. Those words could never hurt me. They weren’t insults. They were badges of goddamn honor… because I was still here. Against all odds.
The other phrase I’d heard tossed around when I passed by hurt more.
Damaged goods.
That one stung.
Because it was true, wasn’t it? I was damaged, and broken. And no one could ever pick all those pieces up.
I headed in the direction of the party, my mood dark, heart thudding at the thought of having my first drink of the evening.
Maybe someone would be passing something else out.
Something to forget, for a while. Something to make it easier to breathe, just for tonight.
I could decide to clean up my act tomorrow.
To be braver, tomorrow. To be more than just a shell of a person, scooped out and used up… tomorrow.
That sounded like a plan.