Free Imposter by Antony John Page A

Sabrina . . .”
    Annaleigh shrugs. “Sabrina’s a great actress. We’re thrilled to have her on board.”
    â€œBut this was her role, right?”
    â€œ
Was,
yes.”
    â€œAnd that doesn’t freak you out? To be playing against someone like that?”
    She almost bites her thumbnail, but stops herself. “Okay, yeah, sure . . . it’s intimidating.”
    â€œWe went over some material yesterday,” interjects Sabrina, “and Annaleigh’s great for this role.”
    â€œBetter than you would’ve been?” asks a woman at the back.
    Sabrina raises her hands like she’s surrendering, but she doesn’t answer.
    â€œSo what
is
your role, Sabrina?”
    â€œI’m Andrew’s best friend. His very
possessive
best friend.” Sabrina links arms with me, and raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “It won’t require much acting, let me tell you.”
    Everyone in the audience laughs. Cameras flash. Flirting is good for business.
    â€œYou mean
sister
.” I whisper the words, but I’m leaning toward her, so the microphone picks them up.
    â€œBest friend,” Sabrina insists. She turns to the audience. “I met with the director first thing this morning and told him that a best friend would add layers of complexity that a sister doesn’t. This is exactly why I want to be in the movie. To feel like I’m creating a character instead of
re-
creating her, if that makes sense.”
    Sabrina’s on a roll again, volleying questions with a dash of self-deprecating humor and a million-dollar smile. Our arms are still linked, which means that I’m a part of every photograph. She looks at me constantly, as if she’s speaking for both of us. And I almost give in to it, the fantasy that I’m no longer Seth Crane. That I’m Andrew Mayhew, and I’m destined to love and be loved. To be a hero.
    But Annaleigh is beside me too. Out of frame and out of the discussion. She seems smaller than before, a bulb that grows dimmer as Sabrina’s light shines brighter. Like the pivot of a teeter-totter, I watch one girl rise and one girl fall.
    Ryder closes the junket on a high note. Leaves the reporters wanting more.
    â€œGreat job,” he tells us, slapping the table. “You nailed it.”
    He’s right. The press got value for money today. But ever since Sabrina dropped her
best friend
bombshell, Annaleigh hasn’t said a word. Now Brian is glaring at Annaleigh from his place at the back of the room. Maybe Ryder should give her the same pep talk that he gave me.
    Maybe he already did.
    We step into an anteroom. It’s quiet here. There are no cameras or questions. No one seems relaxed, though.
    â€œMind if we talk, Sabrina?” Ryder asks. He flicks his head toward another room. “In private.”
    â€œSure.” Sabrina turns to me and pulls me into a hug. “See you at the party tonight, okay?”
    She leaves before I can answer.
    Annaleigh’s leaving too, but by a different door. “Hey, you okay?” I call after her.
    She stops. “Yeah.”
    â€œGood.” There’s an awkward silence. “Do you want to . . . I don’t know . . . talk?”
    She tilts her head back and closes her eyes. “What’s there to say? This morning, Sabrina’s character was your sister. Now she’s your
possessive
best friend.” She makes air quotes for the last words. “I wonder what best girlfriends get to do to you that sisters don’t.”
    â€œI guess Ryder’s trying to add dramatic tension,” I say, aiming for lighthearted.
    â€œThen he’d better buckle up, ’cause there’s going to be plenty of that.” She gives an imitation of a triumphant smile, but I’m not fooled.
    â€œSabrina’s not going to take your role, Annaleigh.”
    â€œMaybe she doesn’t have to. Remember what