Kate in Waiting by Becky Albertalli (ereader with android txt) 📕

that Vivian’s not exactly a theater kid. I don’t think she’s ever tried out for a musical before in her life.

But she can sing. That I know, and not just from Anderson’s voice studio performances. Vivian did the national anthem every few months at elementary school assemblies. And all those singing competitions Vivian and Andy carpooled to back in the day? Vivian won them. I mean, she pretty much won all of them. It’s not exactly surprising, given that her parents are both legit professional musicians. Her mom’s R&B group even opened for Blaque once in the nineties. Vivian sounds a lot like her mom, too. She’s got one of those voices where she sounds like an alto tonally, but she’s not. She’s an uber-soprano. I’m pretty sure she can sing notes only my dogs could hear.

I sigh. “Fuck.”

“Okay, where’s Zhao?” Raina asks. “And where’s Matt?”

There’s a honk of piano notes, so loud we all jump. I glance up at the stage, and go figure—it’s Noah. I don’t know what it is about f-boys and musical instruments. It’s like they have to touch everything and be as disruptive as humanly possible. Noah looks so startled, you’d think he was just now learning what happens when you press the keys of a piano.

The after-school late bell rings, and I spare one last glance at the auditorium doors. Brandie rushes in, and then Ms. Zhao and the music teacher both emerge from the wings, talking to Devon Blackwell, the student director—cute in a grungy, floppy-haired musician kind of way, with a double-blink tic I’ve always found really endearing. We used to talk a lot at rehearsals last spring, mostly about music, and for a while, I thought . . . maybe. But Andy wasn’t feeling him. So. Yeah.

Anyway, most of us know the drill. The music teacher, Mr. Daniels, takes the bench, while Zhao and Devon sort of hover beside him. And then they call people up to sing, one by one. You have to hand it to them, though—they’re not assholes about auditions. In movies, you always see people having to perform alone on a stage like they’re on Broadway or The Voice. But Zhao, Devon, and Mr. D keep it chill. Just you and them on the stage, no microphone. And yeah, everyone’s listening from the auditorium seats, but the piano accompaniment hides some of the messiness. Zhao’s really big on not humiliating students, which is surprisingly rare for a teacher.

Lindsay Ward is up first, and I try not to look super obvious about leaning forward. She’s singing “Happily Ever After,” which means she’s going for Winnifred. She’s not bad. I sneak a glance at Mr. D’s face behind the piano. He does this thing sometimes where his lips purse in and out while he’s playing. Raina calls it the Suckle. He only does it when he’s super in the zone.

I’d say Mr. D’s giving Lindsay a basic polite head bob. Definitely no Suckle. But then again, Lindsay’s a senior, which makes her a threat. You never know which way Zhao’s going to go.

“Hey,” Matt says breathlessly, sinking into the aisle seat beside me. “Am I late?”

“You’re good. How are you feeling?”

Anderson leans over me to high-five him. “Made it.”

Matt grins. “Phew.”

“He had to finish an English quiz,” Anderson says, because apparently Andy’s the keeper of Matt’s schedule now.

But then Matt leans closer, lips an inch from my ear. “So, Anderson tells me you’ve got Winnifred in the bag.”

My heart flips. “He said that?”

Matt smiles and nods.

“Excuse me. You sweetheart.” I shove Anderson lightly. Anderson winks.

“All right, Lindsay’s done,” Brandie whispers.

Onstage, Ms. Zhao’s glancing between the sign-up sheet and the auditorium seats. “Raina Medlock, you’re up.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck.”

“Love you, Rain. You’ve got this.” I tuck my legs up so she can squeeze past me.

After Raina is Emma McLeod, and then Colin Nakamura, then Brandie, then Lana Bennett, then Anderson, who absolutely crushes it—total theatrical domination, followed by a goose massacre from Noah. Though even I have to admit he’s kind of hilarious up there. Noah Kaplan has stage presence. Who knew?

Suddenly, I’m up.

I cross paths with Noah, who pauses to high-five me. “Good luck.”

I freeze. “Noah! No! It’s break a leg.”

“How about an arm?”

“Okay, first of all, it’s just an expression—” But I cut myself off, because Ms. Zhao’s up there looking at me expectantly, and now my heart’s skittering all over the place. “Hey,” I remember to add, after a moment. “Good job up there, Noah.”

“Why, thank you.” Noah grins like he knows I’m lying, but he approves of the lie. “Okay, Little Garfield, you’ve got this.” He taps his cast grandly.

“All righty,” says Mr. Daniels. “What are you singing for us today?”

Deep breath. “‘The Swamps of Home.’”

Ms. Zhao nods slightly, and even that acknowledgment makes me blush. It’s this funny, unspoken thing. Zhao wants us to be flexible, so we’re not technically allowed to try out for specific parts. But we send her coded messages with our song choices. If there’s a part you want, that’s who you sing—and we know it, and Zhao knows it, even if it doesn’t always pan out.

So now everyone sees me wanting Winnifred. Now they all know.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Zhao says, leaning toward Devon. Then she whispers something, taps a spot in his binder, and he scrawls a note.

Mr. Daniels catches my eyes and plays the opening bars, pausing expectantly.

Kate Garfield singing, my brain makes sure to remind me. I die a little.

I take another deep breath.

And then my mind exits my body and floats up to the ceiling.

Scene 20

So now we wait.

“They’re both impossible to read,” Brandie says, for the twenty billionth time. She plucks a Coke bottle off Anderson’s nightstand and sips. It’s one of those personalized bottles: Share a Coke with Braden! True story: if Brandie sees anything remotely close to her name, she’ll buy it and save the bottle. Raina calls it her garbage collection.

Anderson leans against his headboard. “Right?” He sighs. “Zhao’s a Scorpio, so yeah, that tracks, but you’d