Free Imposter by Antony John Page B

Ryder said at the rehearsal this morning? About how Sabrina will be skipping rehearsals until things change. I don’t think he was talking about our acting. I think he’s rewriting the script for her.”
    â€œSo what? We can change the script, remember? We can improvise our lines. We’re the actors here, not Ryder.”
    â€œAnd he’s the director. Which means he can leave every last scene on the cutting room floor.” She points to the room next door, where Ryder and Sabrina are talking in private. “Come on, Seth. If that junket made one thing clear, it’s that there’s only one real star here. And it sure as hell isn’t you or me.”

12
    ANNALEIGH IS LATE. SO IS RYDER. I stand in the lobby, shadow-like in a tailored black suit, watching people glide past as if I’m not even here.
    There’s only one real star here. And it sure as hell isn’t you or me.
    My phone rings.
    It’s Ryder. “Something’s come up,” he says, voice breathy. “I’m going to be late getting to the party. Brian and Tracie can’t make it either.”
    â€œIs everything all right?”
    â€œYeah. It’s good news, but I can’t say anything yet. You’ll be fine, right?”
    The last time I attended a party, I ended up on the front page of a newspaper. I can’t do any worse than that. “Sure,” I say.
    I hang up as Annaleigh draws alongside me, stylish in a moody, all-black ensemble: satin shirt, tailored pants, and pumps. Ryder wants us to match, I guess.
    â€œOur chaperone just ditched us,” I tell her.
    â€œWhat happens now?”
    â€œWell, since there’s no one to watch out for you, I take advantage of your innocence by linking arms and making idle chitchat.”
    â€œSounds scandalous. Don’t tell me: Then you cast me aside.”
    â€œYou’ll be soiled goods.”
    â€œNo one’ll marry me.”
    â€œ
Tsk
. Guys!”
    â€œYes,” she says, linking arms anyway. “Guys.”
    We head out to the waiting limo. Safely inside, Annaleigh rests her head against the window. It’s a wide backseat, and there’s a lot of real estate between us.
    â€œI was worried about you this afternoon,” I say. “You seemed . . .”
    â€œDepressed?” She reaches for her neck again, for the long hair I’m pretty sure she used to have. “I’m fine. That stuff about Sabrina being your friend instead of your sister caught me by surprise, is all.”
    â€œShe said you’re great in the lead role, though.”
    â€œBased on one read-through.”
    â€œSometimes once is enough. I only saw you on the treadmill for a moment last night, but I can tell you run track.”
    â€œUh-uh. I just run by myself. I do it to get out of the house mostly. That’s why I started acting too—so I have something to do when the days are short.” She lowers her voice. “When I’m in a play, I can go almost a full day without being at home.”
    She peers up at me, which is how I realize that I’m sitting very straight. I had her pegged as a classic overachiever—fit, smart, motivated—and now I realize that it isn’t just her accent that she’s been keeping under wraps.
    â€œIs home so bad?”
    She bites a fingernail. “It’s complicated. My parents and me, we don’t get along. The things my dad does . . .” She shakes her head, closes the book so soon after opening it. “What about you? Why do you act?”
    I’m still clinging to her confession, wanting to know more, which is probably why my answer is unguarded. “It’s the only time people really notice me. Most of the time I feel like my dad and brother and me, we’re completely invisible. Like, nothing that happens to us can ever move the needle for anyone else.”
    â€œBut it’s different when you’re