Free Dreamers Often Lie by Jacqueline West Page A

he reached across the aisle right now and—
    Empty stage.
    I left my eyes glued to the bottle cap, listening to the tick of the clock under Mr. Ellison’s drone.
    When the bell finally rang, I jumped up so fast, I almost knocked my desk over. The bottle of pills toppled off the edge and rolled across the floor. I swooped down and grabbed it, my head ringing, before the new kid could pick it up again. Still, his face intruded into my vision, his eyes blue and cool and irritatingly clear.
    “Are you all right?” he asked, in that same familiar voice.
    I didn’t answer.
    I swept the books off my desk, snatched the strap of my bag, and rushed up the aisle. By the time I got to the door, I was running.



CHAPTER 8

    T he auditorium was dark. Wonderfully, warmly, inside-of-your-own-eyelids dark. Mr. Costa had let me leave algebra early so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the noisy crush of passing time. For a few minutes, I had the theater all to myself.
    I hurried down the aisle, grabbing the backs of the nearest seats for balance. The red velvet curtains were open. Work lights glowed softly above the stage, revealing clusters of wire and canvas trees where strings of unplugged fairy lights dangled, glinting, from the branches.
    I dropped my bag in the fourth row and climbed up the stage steps, holding my script in both hands. The boards thumped under my boots. The sound was deep and comforting, like the heartbeat of some huge, peaceful creature. I crossed to center stage. Spreading my arms, I tilted my head back, looking up at the rows and rows of lights, inhaling the scents of paint and makeup and sawdust.
    The pressure in my skull started to fade. I was weightless. My head and ribs and hands dissolved, erasing all thebruises and scars, until I wasn’t there at all anymore. All that was left was an empty shape, something someone else could fill.
    All right. Your first entrance. Oberon and Puck are speaking, and Titania walks on and says . . .
    What? My mind went terrifyingly blank.
    Says what?
    Says . . . “What, jealous Oberon? Fairies, skip hence . . .”
    Yes. That’s it.
    Now just hold on to it. Just—
    “Jaye!” a voice shouted.
    The bell must have rung. Cast and crew members were pouring down the aisles. Still, it took several seconds before I realized that the voice had been speaking to
me.
Somebody hugged me, and somebody else spun me around. Anders and Hannah and Ayesha all grabbed me at once, and Nikki and Tom were talking—too fast—in my ears, and I was being dragged off to look at the rehearsal photos on somebody’s phone, and I finally glanced up to see Pierce Caplan striding to the foot of the center aisle, his eyes fixed on me.
    He smiled.
    I felt my face smile back.
    “Ensemble assemble!” Mr. Hall’s ringing voice called from the edge of the stage. Everybody who wasn’t already there scurried into place. “We’re making up for lost time, so let’s not waste any. No warm-ups today. We’ll plungeright in.” He clapped his long, pale hands. “Gather around, please!”
    Somebody steered me into the tightening circle.
    “First of all, our Titania is back!” Mr. Hall threw an arm around my shoulders. There were cheers. I felt myself blushing, my stomach full of warm electricity. “We’re going to take it easy on her for a while, so we’ll just start at the top of Act Two and see how far we can get. Ayesha, call for places, please.”
    The stage manager strode toward the wings.
    Mr. Hall turned to me. “If you need a break at any time, just let me know,” he said, in a softer tone. “This is why we have understudies. Don’t push yourself. Understood?”
    “Understood.”
    “Places!” Ayesha shouted from the wings.
    Giving my shoulder a last pat, Mr. Hall bounded down into the house. The other actors scattered to their spots. I saw Pierce slipping between the narrow black curtains on the far side of the stage. I took my own place at stage left. The ache hovered around me