You in Five Acts(12)

Just then, Liv and Dave came back into the living room. She was beaming and a little off-balance, while he was grimacing self-consciously down at the floor, in that way people did when they were moving through a crowd and just wanted to get the hell out without anyone noticing. Everyone’s eyes followed him, and some people openly pointed and whispered as he passed by. This was the first time a lot of the Janus student body was seeing Dave in the flesh, so it was kind of like we were all on safari, catching a thrilling glimpse of him in the wild—wearing a knit cap indoors, no less, like some lost hipster DJ.

I felt bad for Dave, and not just because of the hat choice. No doubt Liv had promised him it would be an intimate gathering (“a select group of dope people,” my ass), and now she was parading him around when he would probably rather be standing unobtrusively by the food, like any normal person.

As Liv started talking to one of Jasper’s friends—she’d shunned him but invited his crew, of course, since otherwise no one would report back to him on how good she looked—Dave glanced up and locked eyes with me, and I gave him a half-smile of commiseration. I knew from experience what it was like to follow Liv around all night. I was debating whether or not to take matters into my own hands and beckon him over when Ethan started up again.

“Roth’s pretty good, too. He told me he hasn’t done anything lately except some failed pilots and commercials, but he’s got this really understated”—gulp, wince—“gravitas. I don’t know why he hasn’t been cast in more movies.”

I watched Dave’s face as Liv thrust him upon a clique of drama girls, who smiled so hard it looked possible their cheeks might rupture. He seemed tense and uncomfortable, like he didn’t belong. Or didn’t want to belong.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be famous anymore,” I said. Ethan laughed.

“Nobody here doesn’t want to be famous,” he said. In the middle of the room, Lolly tried to do a drunken pirouette and fell onto the couch. You rushed to help her up, and she held onto your neck longer than she needed to. Over by the TV, Liv was clutching Dave’s flannel shirtsleeve, pulling him over to the next group, whispering something in his ear. Liv needed attention like most people needed air, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t get it from anyone else; I would have bet good money that Ethan wasn’t the only guy standing around getting smashed and waxing poetic about her charms.

“My only reservation about casting the two of them,” Ethan continued, as Dave said something that made Liv laugh with her head thrown back, tossing her black curls like she was selling shampoo, “is that they don’t have the right chemistry. Rodolpho and Viola have this very magnetic, push-and-pull, love-hate thing going on. It’s pretty intense, and it’s really key to the production.” I looked over at Ethan, ready to make fun of him, but then I saw the look on his face as he watched them, this sad stare that cut through all of his pompous showmanship. Ethan wasn’t worried they had the wrong chemistry; he could see, like any other non-blind person in the room, that they had too much.

? ? ?


You finally made it over to me when Ethan’s gin guzzling caught up with his bladder and he stumbled off toward the bathroom.

“It’s about time,” I said. “I was getting ready to set off a flare over here.”

“Sorry. Mr. Director seemed to have your full attention, and besides, you could’ve come to me.” You smiled mischievously and took a sip of your beer. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, since you seem to have a solid thing going with the pretzels, but there’s this social gathering happening right now called a party. It’s when people talk and dance and let loose and don’t act like they’re velcroed to the wall the whole time.”

“Ohhhh, now I see.” I took a step away from the wall and twirled around, bowing. “Happy now?”

“Very.” You grinned.

“But seriously,” I said, gesturing to the chaos going on around us. “I don’t have anything to say to most of these people at school, so I don’t see the point of letting them pretend they’re my friends just because they’re drunk.”

“No, no, no, drinking doesn’t make you lie,” you said, holding up your bottle. “It makes you tell the truth. That’s why they call it liquid courage.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” I cocked an eyebrow; I wasn’t letting you get off that easy. “Since when have you ever needed liquid for courage?”

You shrugged. “Hey, we can’t all be as brave as you.”

“Ha ha.” I reached for your beer, and you gave me a sip. It tasted bitter and watery. I made a face.

“For real, though.” You nudged me with your elbow. “What you did today . . . that was amazing.”

“Thanks.” Shame bloomed in my chest for the first time in a few hours; as intense as Ethan could be, and as oblivious as Liv was being, at least they’d kept me from thinking about my audition. “But I’m pretty sure I just threw away my shot. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“No way.” You gripped my arm and looked at me, your eyes full of endearing—and maybe a little inebriated—sincerity. “You stood up for yourself. You stood up for all of us. And you’re right: Things are changing. Someday every ballet dancer is gonna look like you and Ms. Adair will just be some old bag of bones mumbling her racist bullshit in a nursing home.”