Free Carter's Big Break by Brent Crawford

to starring in a movie—
    “STOP IT!!!” I yell into the mirror. Stop sabotaging me!
    C. B. thinks I’m great; I just need to show them and spike my hair a little bit. But it looks ridiculous when I do, so I get it wet and try to slick it to the side. That looks retarded, so I stick my head under the hand dryer until I look like a scarecrow (hit by lightning).
    “Seriously, STOP IT!!!” I shout again. This just didn’t feel real until now. Like I was dreaming that they’re shooting a real film in Merrian and I have a chance to be in it. . . . It’s probably hard for anyone to believe that dreams come true, but here I am. I take a few deep breaths and try to shake the nerves off. Don’t be scared . C. B. is just a guy from Merrian who drives a race car and thinks Ms. McDougle is cool. I thrash around for a second and scream, “Do it!”
    When I rush out of the crapper, I almost run into Jeremy.
    “Haaaa!” he cries. “Carter, what the hell happened?”
    “Oh, I wrecked my bike.”
    He clarifies, “No, I mean, what happened to your hair?”
    I shake my head, like I don’t want to talk about it. He tries in vain to fix it as Ms. McDougle emerges from the auditorium and reads from her clipboard. “Carter and Sarah, you’re up.”
    My heart starts to pound and a sweat bead runs into my eye. Luckily, College Carter Dumbass gets up like it’s his turn, and I’ve got a few more minutes to try and pull myself together. Unluckily, he bends down and kisses Abby on the cheek before going into the theater. Shock like a lightning bolt shoots down my spine. Abby catches me watching the exchange, turns red, and retreats to the girls’ bathroom. On top of my other issues, I’ve started to cry, so I dart for the safety of the boys’ bathroom again. I am such a bitch, and my hair is so jacked! This could be the biggest day of my life, and Abby is screwing me all up! I can’t let her do this. Please get it together, and breathe! I beat my head against the wall for a while and start to forget my troubles, but head trauma is a flawed way to deal with your problems, because I also start to forget who I am. I plop down on the toilet and squeeze my skull in between my hands and rock back and forth for a few minutes. I’m starting to regain my senses and feel a little better when McDougle knocks on the door and asks, “Carter?”
    “Uhhh, yes?”
    She tells me I’m up, so I blow my nose and run out into the hall. The other kids are staring at me as I jog into the auditorium. I’m looking down at my script when I enter the dark room. I’m not really reading; I’m just trying to look busy. I glance up and see Ms. McDougle smiling at me with C. B. Down and a group of guys wearing sport coats. They all have headsets blinking in their ears. It’s way too hot outside to be wearing any kind of coat, so these dudes must be important.
    McDougle’s smile makes me feel better for a second, and then it all comes crashing down when I see Abby awkwardly standing off to the side of the stage, waiting. Dang it.
    I step into the light, as far away from her as possible. She’s supposed to be wearing a prom getup, not a cute yellow dress that displays her cleavage. FOCUS! McDougle breaks the silence by saying, “Okay, you two? Abby and Carter, this is C. B. Down, Phil Coates, and the rest of the Down Gets Out production team.”
    I give them a nod, and Abby mumbles, “Nice to meet you.”
    Now I feel like I have to say something, so I do. “Nice sport coats.”
    I didn’t even realize I’d said anything until I see the shock on McDougle’s face and C. B. laughing. The guy next to him clears his throat and says, “Phil . . . it’s Phil Coates. . . . Did you have a question?”
    I’m still looking at Abby, who’s staring at the floor. “No, I’m good, let’s get this over with.”
    McDougle cringes. “Carter?!”
    Abby approaches and whispers in my ear, “Are you okay?” with real concern.
    I reply softly into her ear,