Dreams by Starlight

By Staci Stallings

Chapter 19

As any student will tell you, Christmas Break is never long enough, and Camille's was no different. With books she had hardly opened tucked under her arm, she strode into school January 9th, wondering where two and a half weeks had disappeared.

The only thing she could clearly remember was the way the stars looked glowing outside his windshield.

"Well, she is alive," Lexie said, planting her hands on her hips.

"Funny," Camille said with a sneer.

Lexie leaned a shoulder against her locker and looked at her friend. "I take it your break was a good one."

"It was okay." One at a time Camille stowed her books into her locker.

"Okay? Your mom could hardly keep up with you."

"There's a switch."

"Every time I called she said you were out."

"Yeah."

"Where was out?"

The stars shone in her heart. "I was practicing."

"What? Your love scene?"

Flames danced up Camille's cheeks. She slammed her locker with a clang. "Very funny."

"I wasn't joking," Lexie said, turning to follow her friend down the hall. "So, how is Jaylon?"

Although she didn't want it to, the smile spread onto her face. "He's fine."

"I'll bet," Lexie said with more meaning behind the words than was on the surface. "What do you say we get together after school, and you can tell me all about it?"

"Oh, I can't. I'm meeting J. after school for practice."

"Tomorrow."

Camille shook her head. "After school practices start tomorrow." As they slid into their History seats, Camille caught the look of feeling left out when it crossed her friend's face. "Maybe I can reschedule with J. tonight. I'm sure he's got other things he needs to do anyway."

Gratefulness poured through Lexie's eyes. "I'd like that."

Jaylon's face fell when Camille told him, but he promised her he understood. With one final squeeze of her hand, they parted in the center of the hallway, and Camille went to find Lexie.

At their lockers she pulled hers open. "I'm all yours. What are we doing?"

"Your place or mine?" Lexie asked.

"Better make it mine. Dar will be home before too long." Camille traded out a few books and then closed her locker. They walked through the doors and out into the cold. The snow was gone, but it had been replaced by a bone-chilling wind. Squealing like out of control kindergarteners, they ran for the bus stop and hopped from foot-to-foot until the bus arrived.

Lexie waited until they had a chance to thaw out before she broached her first topic. "So, if Dar's going to be home, how were you and J. going to practice?"

Camille shrugged. "He's been coming to my place when I've got Dar."

"And he doesn't mind that?"

"Are you kidding? Sometimes I think he comes to spend time with her rather than with me."

"I doubt that."

"No," Camille said with a soft smile. "But they get along really well. Dar likes him as much as I do."

"That's pretty obvious," Lexie said, gazing at her friend. "Not that I blame you or anything."

"Of course not." The window tugged at Camille's gaze.

"You've changed."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You're less-I don't know-intense."

Camille laughed. "And that's a good thing?"

Lexie smiled at her. "Yeah, I think it is."

Arrival at their stop pushed the pause button on the conversation until they were relocated to Camille's kitchen.

"You want some hot chocolate?" Camille asked.

"Sure," Lexie said. "So, how's the play going?"

"Ugh."

"That good, huh?"

"Worse," Camille said as she emptied the packets into the cups.

"What's so bad about it? I figured being the lead would be like super cool."

"Super horrible would be more like it."

Lexie waited with her face all scrunched together.

Finally Camille sighed. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad if Ariana wasn't in it."

"Jaylon?"

Camille shook her head. "Me. She hates me. It's like her personal mission in life is to make sure I know how second rate I am."

"But you're not second rate."

"Come on, Lex. Let's not kid ourselves. We've never been on the top tier of the social ladder, and we never wanted to be either."

"On the outside," Lexie said as Camille set the cup in front of her.

"Huh?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I've always watched all the first tier people, and I wanted to be just like them-have all the friends, go to all the best parties."

Slowly Camille shook her head as she sat down. "But you always made fun of them."

Lexie shrugged. "There was no reason not to. I mean it wasn't like I ever had a chance to become part of their group, so it was easier to make fun of them."

Camille sat in silence.

"You never wanted to be like them?" Lexie asked.

"No, I really didn't. I mean sure it would've been fun to go to a few parties, but I saw what it cost them to be popular, and I didn't want to have any part of that."

"What do you mean, what it cost them?"

"You know, acting all superior all the time. Putting their noses in the air to look down at everybody else. That's not who I wanted to be."

"And now?"

"I still don't want to be like that, but..."

"Jaylon?"

"He's not like that."

"But he was."

Camille couldn't argue. "She just makes me so mad sometimes. It's like I work my tail off, and no matter how well I do, she just drags me right back down again."

"Why do you let her?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Stand up for yourself. Make her back off."

"Now, you sound like Jaylon."

Lexie laughed. "That's one I never thought I'd hear. Okay, so, tell me for real. Are you two officially a pair or what?"

"I don't know. I really like him, you know. And when we're together, it's easy to think in terms of forever, but..."

"But?" Lexie coaxed when the sentence trailed off into oblivion.

"We're just so different. He's so into drama, and I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out with a tweezers. I love math, and he can't stand it. We're just so different."

Those are just the surface things. You think I ever thought I'd be going with an artistic soul? Nick's kind of music is like opera and classical. Mine is more hard rock and head banging stuff. But underneath we're more alike than I can ever really believe. When I look at the future, it's hard to picture it without him. He understands me in a way no one ever has."

"And next year?" Camille asked, voicing the fear lurking under all her other protests.

Lexie sat for a long moment. "I figure I'll worry about that when the time comes."

The door creaked, and one mitten at a time, Daria pushed her way into the room.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Camille said, going to help her get out of her clothes. "How was school?"

"Fun," Daria said. "We got to make planets out of balls and walk around the sun."

"That does sound like fun. Why don't you go change your clothes, and I'll have some hot chocolate ready for you."

"Okay."

"She's going to be lost without you next year," Lexie said when the little girl had disappeared down the hallway.

That was another topic Camille didn't want to think about, so she changed the subject and kept the rest of the evening's topics well away from Jaylon, college, and next year. She didn't want to talk about that. It was just too depressing.

When Lexie left, Camille pulled the stack of scholarship applications from the top of her desk. One step at a time.

"Camille, honey, I can't hear you," Mrs. Allen called from her seat in the second row. "Remember use your diaphragm. Try it again."

With a single breath Camille looked down at her script again to get the words in her head.

"English is driving me crazy," Jaylon said from his position next to her. "I hate Macbeth."

"It's not hard once you figure out what they're saying," Camille said.

"That's the problem, I may never figure out what they're saying, and then I'm going to fail, and then I won't graduate."

"Don't you think you're stretching it a little there?"

"I just wish I could find somebody who could explain it so that I can understand it." He waited a beat. "You wouldn't consider helping me. Would you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you understand it, and I'm sure you could explain it better than Ms. Geoffery."

"I don't know," Camille said.

"Camille," Mrs. Allen called again. "I still can't hear you. Project, Dear. Think back row."

"I don't know," Camille shouted.

"No, I didn't mean to yell," Mrs. Allen said. "Project. Remember we worked on this at the beginning of the year."

"I've slept since then," Camille mumbled as she looked at her script.

"Start again at 'It's not hard once you figure out what they're saying.'"

With a low, frustrated growl Camille picked her script up and then laid it next to her side. "It's not hard once you figure out what they're saying."

"Better," Mrs. Allen said, although the fact that it wasn't as perfect as she wanted it to be came through loud and clear.

"That's the problem…"

"Want some company?" Jaylon asked as they exited the auditorium together after their first after school practice.

"I've really got a lot to do. I've got a Calculus test tomorrow I haven't even looked at yet. I've got another stupid English paper due, and at some point I've got to get some of these scholarship applications done."

"Okay," he said with a nod. "Tomorrow then."

"Yeah, tomorrow." She went to her locker and traded out her books before stomping to the bus stop. Too much to do, and too many people wanting a piece of her time. She wasn't sure when that had happened, but suddenly her friends actually wanted to spend time with her. The problem was that now was a really bad time for them to decide that.

At her apartment, she went upstairs and retrieved Daria from her after school caretaker. It was almost six-thirty by the time she got home, and with no supper fixed and Daria in need of help with her homework, Camille realized that her own projects would have to wait.

When her mother got home, Camille called Daria for supper and ate at the speed of light.

"You're going to get sick if you eat that fast," Brenda said.

"I've got stuff to do," Camille said between bites. "I didn't get half the stuff done I wanted to last night."

"Well, you really should slow down a little."

Slow down, it was a nice concept in theory. However, her reality had no space for theory. It barely had space for sleep. At two o'clock in the morning, she clicked off her light and gave up. She couldn't remember ever being so far behind. Everything was due two hours ago, and no matter how hard she worked, she couldn't seem to get caught up.

"What's that?" Jaylon asked, pointing to her notebook the next afternoon when he sat down next to her for drama.

"English," she said without ever looking up.

"Another paper?"

She just nodded and kept writing. The more she got done now, the less she would have to finish in the dead of the night.

"Afternoon," Nick said, sliding into his chair.

"Shh!" Camille warned viciously.

"English," Jaylon whispered over her head, and Nick nodded with raised eyebrows.

"There's the bell people," Mrs. Allen called, but Camille never stopped writing. "We're going to work on some blocking today to get some of the preliminaries worked out. I need all actors for Act One Scene One to come on up."

Jaylon stood, but Camille's pen never quit.

"Camille," he said.

"What?"

"You coming?"

She looked up at him with bleary eyes, and then she heaved a sigh. She would get no more done now. "I guess so." Reluctantly she closed her notebook and followed him up the aisle and then the steps.

"Okay, you can tell from the script that this is a dinner table situation. I need five chairs. We're going to start over on stage left."

Camille glanced longingly out at her notebook sitting in the darkness. Why they needed her for this, she couldn't really tell. And worst of all, it was taking time away that she could only make up for when everyone else was long since asleep.

"Camille, you'll sit here," Mrs. Allen said, indicating the front chair.

There was no way out.

"How about a drive?" Jaylon asked when they were gathering their things after class.

Camille shook her head and could almost feel her tired brains rattling. "I've got stuff to do."

"You know if I didn't know better, I'd think you were ignoring me," he said, not altogether pleased.

"I'm not ignoring you."

"Then come with me. You can study out there. I promise. Besides it'll do you some good to get out of here."

Camille considered the pros and cons of his offer, lining them up in her head. There were by far more cons, but the pro of having a few minutes alone with him, outweighed them all. "Okay."

"So what are you studying?" Jaylon asked as Camille sat in the moving car with her nose firmly planted in the book.

"Physics," she said without looking up.

He drove a little farther. "I don't know how you can read in the car. That would make me sick."

"Shhh!" she said, replicating her warning to Nick perfectly.

A hard ball formed in the pit of his stomach as he shifted his gaze back out to the road. If nothing else, they had always been able to talk, but now she seemed far more interested in her books than she was in him. Even when he was with Ariana, he wasn't always the focal point, but she usually remembered he was there too.

Carefully he guided the car into the yellow weeds before stopping and putting it into park. He killed the engine and sat for a full minute. "We're here."

"Just let me finish this," she said without ever looking up, and her head never moved. If the world exploded around her, he had the feeling that she wouldn't even know it. Boredom and frustration mingled in his chest as he gazed out to the tree beyond. Up and down his fingers tapped rapidly on the steering wheel.

"Shhh!" she said again, and this time there was more annoyance in the sound.

"Sorry," he whispered as anger scattered everything else in his chest. Spending time together seemed like such a basic idea. Why was it beginning to feel like it involved calculations far beyond his grasp?

"Okay, that one's finished." Never releasing her book, she reached for the door handle and got out before he realized she was moving.

Quickly he followed her out, but even in the fresh air, she never looked at him. Instead she walked straight to the tree, sat down, and opened the book again. Fighting the anger, he picked a spot close to her and sat down.

"You're in my light," she said.

"Sorry," he said and scooted a little further around the tree. "That better?"

"Much."

He looked out across the hole in the earth, but the peace that view generally brought was nowhere to be found today. His fingers picked at the yellow grass as he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. The only sounds were the water, the tree, and the breeze brushing passed.

It was strange, but those sounds were the most vivid of all his childhood. They, mixed generously with Grandma Lani's laugh, were what he remembered of this place, and now the only thing left of that memory was the underlying sounds. He thought about Grandma Lani-so patient, so kind. She understood about being a child.

A small laugh jumped to his mind as he recalled them standing on her front porch waving until his father was out of sight and then racing for the stash of ragged jeans and old T-shirts that she had kept just for him. He had always felt the best in those clothes. He could run and climb and swing in those clothes. In those clothes he was free. Free to be a child. Free to be himself.

His father would never have understood-just like he didn't understand most things about his son. To his father he had always been a small trophy. An object to be polished and shown off, and then dismissed until the next time someone wanted to see him.

But to Grandma Lani, he was Jaylon. Boy, through and through. She understood that like no one else ever had. He opened his eyes and watched the swing twisting in the breeze. On that swing he had learned to fly, learned how to let go of everything else and reach for life.

Somehow at that moment he needed to feel that acceptance again. Pushing up from the tree, he walked over to the swing and inspected the rope. Older but still sturdy. Checking the pieces of the swing above him, he sat down on the small piece of wood, and once he decided it was safe, he put his whole weight on it.

The air escaped his lungs when the old feelings began crashing in on him. Gently he laid his head against the scratchy rope and picked both feet up off the ground. For one moment in time he had flown. For one moment he had believed that anything was possible. And then reality.

Reality had a way of slapping you in the face just when you were perfectly at peace. Like this week with Camille. He gazed over at her, still hunched over her Physics book. It was fun when he felt like he was the center of her world, when they were flying together. But he had to admit that her world didn't revolve around him. She had so many other things to contend with. So many other things that had nothing to do with him.

For many long moments he simply sat, watching her. Imprinting this picture onto his memory for the time when she, too, would no longer be here by his side. College, if not before, he would have to find a way to say good-bye to her just like...

Fighting that thought, he stood and walked back over to the tree-to her. Slowly he sat down next to her and gently wrapped his arms around her. If he could just hold onto her, maybe he could make her stay.

"What are you doing?" she asked in annoyance as she squirmed to get loose from his grip.

He released her and sat back. "Nothing." He closed his eyes to stop the pain. It was inevitable. He would lose her too.

Then she looked over at him. "What's wrong?"

When he looked at her, he knew the pain was in his eyes as surely as it was in his heart. "I don't want to lose you."

She laughed softly. "You're not going to lose me."

He shook his head, berating himself for saying anything. She couldn't understand how important this was. Nobody could. Angrily he stood and walked over to the swing.

"Okay." She put her book down. Carefully she stood and dusted her jeans off. "Mind telling me what that statement was supposed to mean?"

The scratchy rope jabbed into his hand. "Nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing to me."

"It's not important."

"Uh-huh." She shifted to the other foot. "Is this about my studying?"

"No. Yeah. Well, no."

She laughed softly. "That was as clear as mud."

One small inch at a time he turned, still hanging onto the swing rope, but he could only hold her gaze for seconds at a time. She was leaning against the tree with her arms crossed in front of her and a very concerned look was etched on her face.

"This used to be my grandma's place," he said quietly. Then his gaze traveled out across the gap in the earth. "We used to come out here all the time, and it was like out here, nothing bad could touch us. You know?"

She nodded but said nothing.

"I thought that's how it was always going to be," he said, and the sadness seeped into the words. "But I guess things change." His gaze fell to the yellowed grass at his feet. "I don't want things to change."

For a long moment she stood there, against the tree just looking at him. In fact, he became a little unsure that she had even heard what he said. Then just before he decided she hadn't, she pushed away from the tree and stepped over to him.

"Do you want to swing?" she asked him.

He looked at her, and as dangerous as it felt, he knew he couldn't hide from her. "Yeah."

She smiled at him and reached for the swing rope as he sat on the wood. Her hands reached down just below his, and gently she pulled him backward. Then in the next heartbeat he was flying through the air, out over the edge, until it was just him and the air again. On his return trip he felt her hands push his back, and peace broke through the pain.

"I feel like I'm five," she called as he sailed over the side again.

"So do I."

How many trips he made back and forth, he didn't know, but it was enough to begin believing that everything would be all right again. When she stopped pushing, he let the swing slowly come to a rest, and then he sat there for one more minute, just gazing out to the setting of the sun.

"What was she like?" Camille asked.

"Who?"

"Your grandmother. She must've been pretty special."

"She was. But she's not gone-not really anyway."

Camille's head fell to the side in confusion.

"She lives at Hollybrook. Has for about six years now." He looked at Camille and smiled at the questions in her eyes. "She's got Alzheimer's."

Sadness fell over the confusion in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know. She doesn't really know anybody anymore. She just kind of sits there and stares."

"Like 'True North.'"

He nodded. "I try to get over there as much as I can, but I don't think she ever knows I'm even there anymore."

"She might know more than you think."

"That's why I keep going. I mean she was there for me when she didn't have to be."

"When your mom died."

Again he nodded. "I'm sure she was in as much pain as I was, but she never showed it. I'd come here, and we had so much fun together. It was magic."

"That's why this place means so much to you."

"Uh-huh. It was always my escape. The one place I could go that made everything else make sense."

"Even after she wasn't here."

"Yeah. Even after she left too."

The squeezing pain in his chest wouldn't let him look at her, but he felt her move toward him just the same. When she stopped only a few inches from him, her hand reached over and laid itself on his shoulder.

"That's why you don't want me to leave."

His heart burst wide open when her arms came around him and pulled his head to her. He grabbed for her and clutched her waist. Like hanging onto the rope, he now felt like he would fall right through the earth if he ever let her go. "I don't want to lose you."

"I know," she said as she laid her cheek on the top of his head. "I know."

She was still covered up with work the next afternoon when she got to drama, but the expedition into the country had helped to clear away the simply urgent things to reveal the truly important things. And Jaylon was on the top of that list.

Today when he came in and sat down beside her, she took a moment to actually acknowledge him when he said hi.

"Hey," she said, gazing at him with a smile.

"More homework?" he asked, pointing at the scribbles in her notebook.

"As usual," she said with a shrug.

"Ready for another day in the salt mines?" Nick asked, sliding into his seat.

"And another and another," Camille said just as Mrs. Allen stepped onto the stage. Homework would have to wait. It was time to block.

Chapter 20

Three weeks later Camille was technically more than pleased with her progress. She knew practically every line, thanks to intensive memorizing drills spent with Jaylon coaching her the whole way. Her feet knew every block move in the whole script.

Stand, say the line, wait for the next line, take three steps, stop, say the next line, wait, turn. She had it down to a perfect science. The only problem was that drama had nothing to do with science. It was an anomaly that no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not grasp.

"You're too stiff, Camille," Mrs. Allen called from her seat in the audience during a Thursday after school practice at the beginning of February. "You look like a robot that needs grease. Loosen up."

Camille rolled her head over her shoulders and swung her arms in the air.

"Try it again."

"You act like you think you're better than me," Ariana said, crossing her arms in front of her.

"I'm not acting like anything," Camille said.

"Louder," Mrs. Allen called from the darkness.

"I'm not acting like anything," Camille repeated, desperately trying to get her voice to carry beyond the front of the stage. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I'm not even noticing you?"

"Well, you're certainly noticing Hawk."

"And that's a problem?"

"Louder."

"And that's a problem?"

"Stop," Mrs. Allen said in frustration as she stood and marched up the steps.

"Thank God," Ariana said under her breath as she stepped away from Camille, who looked at her in anger.

"Camille," Mrs. Allen said, coming abreast of her, "you have to project your voice, Dear. Not yell. Project."

Camille nodded although how to accomplish that was still as much of a mystery as it had been back in August.

"Use your diaphragm," Mrs. Allen said, putting her hand in the center of Camille's stomach and pushing in. "Use your air to project your voice."

"Huh," Camille exhaled as Mrs. Allen pushed in again.

"Got it?"

In frustration Camille nodded. Whether she had it or not didn't matter. What mattered was that she would never be able to do it.

"Try it again," Mrs. Allen said, backing away slightly.

"And that's a problem?" Camille asked and then looked at Mrs. Allen.

"Again."

"And that's a problem?"

With a sigh, Mrs. Allen shook her head and backed away. "Continue."

Derision glared at her from Ariana's eyes.

"And that's a problem?" Camille asked, pulling herself up to her full height and projecting as far as she could.

"Let me let you in on a little secret," Ariana said. "The only reason Hawk even knows you're alive is because he wants to get back at me."

"This may come as a shock to you, Dominique, but the world doesn't revolve around you."

"Stop," Mrs. Allen called again from the audience. "Stop. Stop. Stop."

In irritation, Camille took a step backward and reached up to scratch her ear. She stood tapping her fingers against her leg as Mrs. Allen again climbed the steps.

"Ariana," Mrs. Allen said, obviously trying to contain her exasperation, "why don't you call it a day? We'll start again tomorrow."

"Thank you," Ariana said, shooting an aggravated look at Camille.

Mrs. Allen waited until Ariana had vacated the stage and stepped through the exit before she turned to Camille. "Listen, Camille. I know you're trying, and I appreciate that, but it's February. We're supposed to go on in two months. Now, I don't want to sound the alarms, but if you can't get this..."

"But I'm doing my best," Camille said, and the prospect of having the role yanked from her suddenly felt like it would rip her heart in two.

"I know," Mrs. Allen said, nodding sadly. "I knew this was a long shot when I cast you."

"I'll get it," Camille said, the pleading sound peeling in her ears. "I'll work harder. I promise."

Mrs. Allen shook her head. "I can't afford to wait much longer. Someone will have to step in and learn Ariana's part."

The breath evaporated from Camille's lungs at the thought of Ariana and Jaylon starring together, practicing together, being together again.

"I swear," she said frantically. "I'll get it. Please, just give me a few more days. Please."

Mrs. Allen looked on the verge of simply saying no, but then with one more look at Camille, she exhaled. "All right. I'll give you until next Thursday, but it's got to be a whole lot better by then."

Camille nodded. "It will be. I swear."

The next morning Camille was up with the first beep of her alarm at five o'clock. She wasn't sure what time they actually unlocked the school, but she was determined to be there the second they did.

She threw on the first clothes she came to, grabbed her books and a banana from the refrigerator, and raced out into the chilly morning air. At the bus stop she hopped from foot to foot, saying her lines with each hop. Math was easy. Practice had never really been necessary for that, but this was something altogether different.

At school she sat down on the front steps and huddled next to the brick to get out of the wind. Even then, the lines were running through her head. "And that's a problem?" Pause. "This may come as a shock to you, Dominique..."

By the time the first janitor made it to the doors at 6:30, she was nearly a solid block of ice.

"Could you let me into the auditorium?" she asked him as she followed him through the front door. She saw the concerned look cross his face. "I'm the lead in the school play, and I really need to practice. Please." He still didn't look convinced, so she grabbed her script. "See, 'Don't Listen to the Fates.' Lauren, that's my part."

She followed him down the hallway. "Please. I really, really need to practice, and Mrs. Allen won't be here for another hour. Please."

"All right," the old man finally relented. "But you behave yourself."

"Oh, I will," she said with a grateful nod.

With no one in the auditorium and only the normal lights on the stage, the place looked totally different. Camille laid her backpack on the top step and took a deep breath as she stepped to the center of the stage.

She rolled her head around her shoulders hearing the tendons creak on both sides. Letting every nerve in her body loosen, she swung her arms back and forth. With one more breath she pulled the words to her.

"This may come as a shock to you, Dominique." Her voice squeaked annoyingly, and she cleared her throat. "This may come as a shock to you, Dominique, but the whole world doesn't revolve around you."

Jaylon had completely exhausted his repertoire of children's games. He hadn't bargained on getting asked back for the spring semester, and although he was happy about that, he wasn't prepared for it. He had seen the rows upon rows of exercise books in Mrs. Allen's backstage office, and he was sure she would let him borrow a couple for a good cause.

With a yank he opened the auditorium door and stepped into the darkness on the other side. He hadn't expected the stage lights to be on or for anyone to even be in the room, but he realized in the next second that someone was on stage. Instantly his motion stopped as he looked to the stage.

"Not according to my mom," Camille was saying, her voice a mere whisper from where he stood.

His steps quieted as he shrank back to the edge of the auditorium.

"To her, an education's everything," Camille said, her voice straining. "So I decided that I wasn't going to be the person on the outside, I was going to be on the inside of that office, and I'd never treat my workers the way they treated my mom."

She waited a beat, and then two as his line traveled through his mind.

"It doesn't matter," she said, and his ears picked up the defiance. "I'm going to be something. Something big. Something powerful. Something so important that people can't make me feel...like I'm not enough."

Her head fell, and he saw the shake of her head. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. "Not according to my mom."

The scene repeated itself in front of his eyes. First once, then twice even as the questions ran through his head. Why was she here-before school in an empty auditorium? Running lines that she had long since memorized? It made no sense.

At that moment on stage Mrs. Allen walked out, and Jaylon froze.

"Camille, what are you doing here?"

"Oh." Camille turned in a breath. "Umm, I was just getting in a little extra practice."

"Well," Mrs. Allen said, softening, "I admire your spirit."

Quietly he backed to the door, opened it, and slipped out into the bright hallway even as his brain continued to run through the questions. Why did she think she needed extra practice? She was already practicing every waking hour the way it was. He wanted to ask her, but it was obvious that she didn't want anyone to know what she was doing.

All morning his brain worked on the problem. At lunch he sat beside her, and he could see the missed sleep in her eyes as she sat, reading her Economics book; however, their lunch companions didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"So, what do you say?" Lexie asked as a general question to the table. "The movie starts at seven."

Jaylon noticed the sidelong glance Camille shot at him even as to all the outside world she continued to read.

"I've got homework," she said quietly as she reached for her milk carton.

"You've always got homework," Lexie said in frustration.

"I know," Camille said, and Jaylon could hear the tightrope her voice was walking on even as she glanced at him again. "But I'm kind of behind."

Lexie laughed softly. "Yeah, right."

"Actually I can't really go either," Jaylon said as his mind searched for a believable excuse. "I've got relatives coming in tonight. My dad kind of wants me to be there."

"Oh," Lexie said, and she looked like she might give voice to her annoyance. "Fine, then. Nick, would you like to go to the movies with me?"

"Sure," he said with a smile that barely masked his concern. "That sounds like fun."

Camille was still buried in her book when Jaylon got to the auditorium later that afternoon. Quietly he slipped into the seat next to her and settled in. Her attention from the material never wavered. When he noticed Nick enter from the other side, Jaylon immediately put his finger to his lips without ever making a sound.

Nick nodded even as he took the seat next to hers. Jaylon couldn't help but watch her. Her intensity was fascinating.

"We'll go ahead and get started," Mrs. Allen said from the stage. "Umm, we'll take up where we left off yesterday with the Dominique-Lauren fight."

Camille never moved, so gently Jaylon nudged her with his elbow. "Cam, that's you."

"What?" she asked, looking at him with unseeing eyes.

He pointed to the stage. "That's you."

She looked up at the stage and then nodded as she closed her book. Her legs stood her up and walked her down the aisle as Jaylon watched her, and his own face contorted with concern.

As the two of them started on stage, Nick slid into the seat at Jaylon's elbow.

"What is up with her?" Nick asked.

Jaylon shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm worried."

"So am I," Nick said.

"Louder, Camille," Mrs. Allen said, and Jaylon noticed the frustration slide across her face.

"I'm not acting like anything," she said, and he winced at the pain in her voice.

Being on stage was putting yourself into a pressure cooker of emotions the way it was, and being yelled at by the director with everyone there to watch didn't help anything either. His attention honed in on her then. He could see it, the struggle to make everyone else happy. The fight to not mess anything up. His mind floated back to the tree as she scribbled furiously in her notebook. She was trying. There was no questioning that. But what was suddenly even more obvious was the fact that she felt she was failing.

"This may come as a shock to you, Dominique, but the whole world doesn't revolve around you."

As he watched her, his mind traced back through the time they had spent together, and the fact that her world revolved around everyone but her suddenly came into perfect focus. Daria, her mother, Lexie, Nick, even Jaylon himself. She was living her life for them. Even her studying seemed to be more about pleasing the teachers than it was about pleasing herself.

"Louder, Camille," Mrs. Allen said. "Louder."

His soul wound around the unshed tears in her voice.

"I don't have to stand here and take this," she said emphatically, the scripted line falling a little too close into reality.

"You mark my words," Ariana said harshly. "He'll dump you the second he no longer needs you to make a point."

All Jaylon wanted to do was wrap his arms around Camille at that moment and let her tears fall.

"Hey, I need to talk to Mrs. Allen a minute," Jaylon said to her when class was over. "Can you wait for me?"

Camille shrugged and sat down in the row, pulling a book to her lap even as she did.

"I'll see you guys Monday," Nick said, and Jaylon waved to him. Nick looked at Camille's head already bowed over the book. "Take care of her," Nick mouthed.

Jaylon nodded to him seriously and then bent down to her. "I'll just be a minute."

Camille nodded imperceptibly. With a sigh, he turned away and walked up the stage steps to the back of the stage where Mrs. Allen's office was tucked away. As he neared the office, however, he heard the voices and silenced his steps.

"I'm going to give her a few more days," Mrs. Allen said, "but I don't really think that's going to do too much good. I think we're going to have to be realistic. Ariana stepping in really won't be a big problem, but Tessa's going to need all the practice time she can get to make Dominique play right."

"It's too bad. Camille did such a good job at the audition," Kara said.

"Well, I think that was just a flash in the pan," Mrs. Allen said.

At the door to her office Jaylon reached up and knocked.

"Jaylon," Mrs. Allen said in surprise. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if I could borrow one of your exercise books. I'm running out of material for the kids at the center."

"Oh, of course." Mrs. Allen stood and turned to her bookshelves as Jaylon and Kara exchanged polite nods.

"How's that going?" Mrs. Allen asked.

"Pretty well. The kids are great, and it's been great to have Camille there to help." The comment was an indirect plea on her part.

"I didn't know Camille was helping you," Mrs. Allen said in surprise.

"Yeah, her little sister's taking the class, so she stays and helps with what she can."

Mrs. Allen turned with three books in her hands. "Well, I'm glad to see her interest in drama isn't confined to our walls."

"Yeah," he said, accepting the books. "Thanks."

She nodded, and he turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way," he said, turning back. "I think Camille and I are going to work awhile out here. Is that all right?"

"Sure," Mrs. Allen said, and the smile on her face told him all he needed to know.

"Thanks." He looked at Kara. "Take care."

And then he slipped out and back up onto the stage. Determination surged through him when he saw her still studying in the audience. She could do this. He knew it. All he had to do was convince her of that fact.

"Making any headway?" he asked at her seat.

"Not enough." She shifted the book to the floor before standing to gather her things.

"Umm, listen," Jaylon said as he looked back up through the stage curtains to Mrs. Allen's office. "I was wondering if you might want to get in a little extra practice."

"What's the use?" Camille asked dejectedly. "I could practice from now until forever, and I'm not going to get it."

"You just need a little coaching. Someone to show you how."

"It's a waste of time."

He smiled at her. "I'll be the judge of that. Come on. We've got work to do."

With reluctant steps she followed him out of the row and up the aisle. If he could just find a niche of hope in her performance, he was sure she would take hold of it and do everything she could to hold on.

"Now, first," he said when they were on stage. "This is not as hard as it looks. All it takes is a little practice. We'll start with the ABC's."

She looked at him like he was from Mars.

"Trust me." He took hold of her and turned her toward the audience. "Now put your feet a little wider apart. Get a good stance. There you go. Now I want you to say your ABC's loud so they can hear you down in the principal's office."

An annoyed look crossed her face, but she took a breath and started through the alphabet anyway. "A...B..."

Gently he put his hand under her ribcage. "Feel it in here."

"C...D...E..."

"Lower. Use your breath."

"F...G..."

"Not your chest. Think lower."

"H...I…J..."

"Good girl. Yeah, that's it."

"K...L...M..."

"Concentrate."

"N...O...P..."

"Push the air out."

"Q...R...S...T..."

"You've got it. Keep going."

"U...V...W...X...Y...Z."

"Fabulous." He leveled his gaze at her. "Did you feel the difference?"

She nodded.

"Then let's do it again. Close your eyes and feel where that air is coming from."

"A...B...C..."

The ABC's and numbers were going well, but she still wasn't sure she could translate that into the lines in the script. It was just too much to remember.

"How about we try something," Jaylon said with a gleam in his eyes that made Camille's fear shields fly up.

"What?"

"You'll see." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the steps. When they were in the middle of the center aisle, he stood her on the side they usually sat on. "Stand here."

Then he let her go and crossed to the other side. "Ready?"

She nodded uncertainly.

"Surely you aren't going to listen to Dominique."

"Why not?" Camille asked, picking up her line effortlessly even as she laid her hand into the hollow under her ribs that his hand had vacated.

"Because you know how she is."

Concentrating on the air, Camille pushed it ahead of her words. "No. How is she?"

"Come on, Lauren. Be honest. Have you ever heard her say one good thing about anybody?"

"Hey, that's my sister you're talking about."

"And that includes you. If you're not beneficial to her, it doesn't matter who you are, she'll squash you like a bug." Jaylon held up his hand to stop the reading. "Back up."

"Huh?"

"Back up." He followed his own advice, stepping backward three seats into the row.

Not really sure what he was up to, she followed suit, and when she looked back across at him, he was already back in character.

"I thought you loved her," Camille said as the words came to her with barely a call.

"Yeah, I thought so too, but all either of us ever cared about was ourselves. We stayed together for the status that being together brought us."

"But everyone thought you were the perfect couple."

Jaylon held up his hand again and stepped back. Barely losing the conversation thread, Camille stepped back as well.

"We were never real," he said, his voice perfectly modulating for the increasing distance between them. "We were going through the motions, doing all the stuff we thought we were supposed to be doing."

"So how do I know that's not what you're doing now? Just going through the motions so it looks good to the outside world."

"Because I'm not."

"How can I know that?"

Still looking at her, Jaylon stepped three more seats back. Her heart couldn't look away from his eyes even as her feet carried her backward.

"How do you know?" he asked incredulously. "Well, how does it feel? Does it feel like I'm playing you?"

"I don't know," she said, and the breathing fell just below the surface of her thinking.

"Are you serious?" he asked, the hurt screaming across the growing chasm between them.

"You turned on a dime when Dominique dropped you, and you picked me up without so much as a single look backward. How do I know you won't drop me as soon as you get what you want?"

"And what do you think I want?"

Like dancers in the dark, they each took three more steps backward.

"You tell me," Camille challenged. "What do you want, Hawk? To show Dominique up? Is that what you want?"

Although barely above a whisper, his voice carried right to her with no problem. "No, Lauren. I want you."

Twenty-eight seats and an aisle separated them, but to Camille he was right in front of her. "Is that the truth?"

"It's the truth. I promise you, it's the truth."

Camille felt like she'd just been snatched from the very jaws of death. She could do this, and now Mrs.
Allen would have no choice but to let her keep the part.

"You want to do another one?" Jaylon asked from across the auditorium.

"Bring it on."