Exit Stage Left by Gail Nall Read Free Book Online Page B

nun costume is not going to exactly enhance my assets. I might as well be dressed as a rock. For a moment, I wonder if Trevor will notice, but then I throw my script aside. Even doing pre-calc homework sounds like more fun right now. And it will make me stop thinking about Trevor.
    “But they’re children!” Amanda exclaims. She flings her hair over her shoulder for even more emphasis.
    I redo the line in my head the way it should be. I’m scoring massive bonus points in the BFF department right now. I remind myself thatI’m happy for her and I’m being a good friend, so . . . I suppose it could be worse. I could be listening to Danielle or Gabby.
    We’re lounging on the white-carpeted floor of her clean-freak bedroom. I’m pretty sure she vacuums it every single day. If he wasn’t lying on the bed, you’d never know she has a huge, hairy sheepdog named Toby. I’ve never seen a stray dog hair on Amanda’s floor—ever.
    I recite the next line without consulting the script, then I sneak a look at my phone for the time. Maybe I can distract Amanda from reading lines. I could offer to listen to her new piano piece, but she’s probably already gotten her day’s practice in. And I bet she’s finished every little bit of homework.
    Maybe I can pretend to faint. Or have a heart attack. Or go into a diabetic coma. I wonder what the symptoms of Ebola are? I should add hypochondriac to my weekly method acting.
    But why bother doing that when my acting career is obviously over?
    “Casey? Hello.” Amanda slaps my knee with her script.
    “Sorry. Where are we?”
    “I say—” Her phone beeps. She fumbles under Toby, finds it, and reads the text.
    “Who is it?” I ask her.
    She frowns. “Trevor.”

Chapter Eight
    “Trevor? What’s he want?” I ask Amanda.
    Better question: Why is Trevor texting Amanda?
    “I don’t know. . . .” Amanda taps away at her phone.
    I drum my fingers on the carpet. I told her all about what happened in the parking lot on Friday. She asked me what I really wanted, and I repeated that I wasn’t getting back with him after I reminded myself about a hundred times of how bad we are together. But after a while, the words lose their meaning.
    “He wants to run lines,” Amanda says.
    “With you?”
    “Of course with me. We have a lot of scenes together.” She pauses. “What do you think?”
    I shrug, like it’s no big deal that my ex-whatever-he-is wants to hang out with my best friend.
    “If it weirds you out, I’ll tell him we’re busy.” Amanda’s fingers hover over her phone, waiting for me to say something.
    “No.” I sigh and call up all my professional bravery. It’s just lines. They’re going to have to practice, and I’ll have to get over it. And not think about how he felt like the only normal thing in my life on Friday. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. Invite him over.”
    “Right now? Are you sure?”
    I nod and lie back on the carpet, arms over my face, while Amanda texts Trevor.
    “He’ll be here in an hour. It’s okay if you want to leave,” she says.
    “It’s all right. I’ll stay. I would’ve had to deal with him if I’d gotten the role anyway.” I move my arms up over my head so I can see Amanda, who’s looking super concerned. I sit up. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll jump in during my parts. And read the other parts for you guys, too.”
    “Okay.” Amanda bites her lip. “But if you suddenly remember that you have to wash your hair while he’s trying to flirt with you again, I promise I won’t mind.”
    I flip through the pages of my script and don’t meet her eyes. I feel like she’s telling me not to let him flirt with me, which is weird. “Come on, let’s work some more before he gets here. You need to practice sounding like you’re in love back here in Scene—”
    Amanda thwacks me in the arm with her script.
    “What?” I rub my arm and bite back a smile. “Just imagine you’re going to the spring formal again with Ben Taylor.