Diva by Alex Flinn Read Free Book Online Page A

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    The Piano-Playing Girl is next. "I'm Sylvanie. Not Sylvia, not Sylvania. Not Pennsylvania or
    Transylvania. Sylvanie." She then lists the usual five hundred community theater programs. I zone out
    again.
    I can't act, but I can hit a high E Here, I'll do it right now. Aaaaaahhhh!
    When I come back to reality, Misty—a.k.a Barnacle Girl—is enlightening us about how gifted she is.
    "I was in the Miami Children's Theater summer program for the last two years. Last year, I had the lead in my school's production of My Fair Lady , so I decided to come here in hopes of finding some
    competition."
    Her face says she thinks that's unlikely. Gigi mutters, "And I'm a bitch."
    I giggle. I feel like Gigi and I have bonded.
    Sean's next. He recites the same list of programs and mentions that he was in My Fair Lady too. He
    doesn't say which role, but he doesn't have to. Obviously the lead. "I'm a senior. I tried out as a freshman, but I had some family issues and couldn't go here. I'm really glad I could come this year. It's sort of a
    dream of mine."
    "How cute," Gigi mutters, killing any solidarity I felt for her. Sean is cute—not that I'm thinking of him that way. I'm over guys. Besides, he's obviously taken by Barnacle Girl.
    Gigi stands to introduce herself. "Gigi Correa."
    Miss Davis looks at her roll book. "I don't have a Gigi here. Are you certain you got an acceptance from
    us?"
    Gigi smiles. "Quite sure. Check if you have a Maria Georgina de la Iglesia Correa. But I prefer Gigi.
    Okay with everyone?" When Miss Davis nods, Gigi continues. "I'm from New York—the center of the
    universe. I understudied Young Eponine in the Broadway cast of Les Mix . I've done commercials for
    Band-Aids and Children's Tylenol. I went to La Guardia—the real High School of Performing Arts. Then
    divorce struck, and I moved to Miami with the other refugees."
    A few people react to refugees . The rest stare in awe. Then since I'm sitting next to Gigi, they all turn to me. "Wonderful.
    "Um," I say. "I'm Caitlin. I like to sing. I've been in chorus since sixth grade. I sing opera. I like musical theater too, and… I'm really happy to be here."
    That's it. I've told them nothing about myself and everything important. They don't know about Nick or
    about the whole humiliating homecoming princess debacle, or my mother. I could have said I'd sung at the
    Metropolitan Opera, and they'd have believed it. And it's amazing to be able to say I love opera and no
    one thinks it's weird. Okay, not that weird.
    The rest of the period, we do improvisations. We play this game called Freeze where two people start
    making up a scene. Then when they get into a funny position, someone yells, "Freeze!" They have to stop, and the person who called out takes one person's place in the scene and makes it a completely different
    situation. Most skits are funny, and a lot are… R-rated. Miss Davis doesn't seem to mind. I never yell,
    "Freeze!" Nothing I think of seems funny enough.
    Finally, Miss Davis claps her hands. "Okay, that's it for today. Those who didn't participate this time will begin Wednesday. And there's homework."
    Everyone groans, not just me.
    "Art is suffering, children. Don't forget that. Wednesday, I want everyone to come prepared to act as their favorite animal."
    Perfect.
    Next is American History, a "regular" class—if a class can be regular when people start singing "I'm Only a Bill" from Schoolhouse Rock … and the teacher doesn't seem to mind. Gigi's in my Geometry
    class, and I practically fall over when she moves her books off the seat beside her for me to sit.
    "You got lunch this period?" she asks after class. "We can sit together."
    "Yeah." I skipped breakfast, and now my stomach feels tight.
    When I get to my locker, Sean's just closing up his. "Hey, some morning," he says. "Want to sit with us at lunch?"
    I take out my lunch bag. I'm about to ask him to sit with me and Gigi, when Misty bounces up. "Come on,
    Shawnee!" I'm