The edges of my vision are going blurry.
Somewhere in the distance, Angel gestures to Zach with both hands. “This, exactly. I’m not gonna be angry at my friends just because people have no taste.”
The interviewers burst out in laughter, and it’s in slow motion. Angel’s laughing and shaking his head. I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Kind of.
I set my jaw, and everything clicks back into place. “Exactly,” I say, a little too loudly. All heads turn to me. “I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say I don’t believe in wrecking important friendships over things that don’t even matter. But, honestly? Even if we didn’t get along, we wouldn’t be making it obvious. Like, I did professional musical theater for years. Anyone who’s been around theater knows how much pointless drama there can be.” Both women nod emphatically, and someone laughs, but I can’t focus on who. “But the show goes on, you know? You can’t throw a tantrum onstage because you have to do a scene with someone you don’t like. And personally, you know, I’m not a child. I will always treat my colleagues with respect.”
There. I can speak in double meanings, too.
I’m so awash with satisfaction and triumph, it takes me a second to realize the interviewers have an odd look on their faces. Smiling, sure, but it’s a different smile. A hungry one.
I play my words back in my head, and notice the edge to my voice. The passive-aggressive viciousness.
I sound like my mom.
There’s a horrible beat of silence, and Angel laughs loudly. “Colleagues,” he says. “See, Ruben’s the best, he’s always so composed. When you get to know Ruben, you realize that when he says ‘colleagues,’ he means the best friends he’ll ever have in his lifetime. Seriously, like, once he went on a date, and I didn’t know that’s what it was until afterward because he told us he had an appointment.”
That story is a total lie, but I’m dizzy with relief for Angel’s ability to make up bullshit on his feet.
“Oh!” One of the women latches onto this, eyes gleaming. “You have a girlfriend, Ruben?”
I can almost feel Erin’s eyes boring into me. Don’t you dare.
Of course, I don’t dare. I play their game, like I always do, as much as it hurts. “No, not right now. Still looking for the one.”
The interview moves on, but I know I’ve messed up. The Tension is heavier than ever, and it’s wormed its way right into the pit of my stomach, where it’s settled like an anvil.
I barely speak for the rest of the interview. All I can do is replay my own words back. I know what the response to that snippet is going to be. And the worst thing is, it’s going to be the truth. I snapped, and I screwed up, and now people are going to know. And I can’t even blame anyone else.
Fifty-fifty, Jon said.
Was he right? Have I been lashing out this whole time? Delivering little, jagged cuts to everyone around me without even noticing?
Is this what it’s like to be Mom? Does she do it without noticing, too?
I think I might be sick.
I can barely look at anyone after the interview wraps up. And I’m not surprised in the least when Erin pulls me aside as we pile onto the bus to head to our next engagement.
“Geoff wants to talk to you and Zach when we’re back at the hotel this afternoon,” she says. Her voice is apologetic, and careful. A warning.
Shit’s about to go down.
TEN
ZACH
I’ve never been in this much trouble with Chorus.
Or anyone, really.
I can tell this is serious by the cold, distant way everyone’s been treating Ruben and me. Like even being close to us will mean they’re also in trouble. It started as soon as we boarded the bus to go back to our hotel, and it hung over us the whole journey. Erin is being extremely careful with her words, and Jon and Angel aren’t really talking. The worst, though, is Ruben, who is ignoring me again. I almost don’t know what I hate more, the way he spoke to me on the bus this morning, in a tone that was actually viciousness disguised as friendliness, or this. The endless, icy silence. In the past, maybe being in trouble together would’ve brought us closer, but he went straight back to acting like I’m invisible.
I’m in my bathroom now washing my face. The meeting starts in a minute.
He called me a child. And he all but confirmed to the interviewers that the tension between us is real. Being in trouble right now is all his fault.
I splash water on my face. Getting upset now won’t help anything, and I can’t mess this up.