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Dreams by Starlight By Staci Stallings Saturday they spent miming with the kids and then took Daria to the hamburger joint for lunch. It was becoming so normal that Camille wasn't even surprised when he asked. In a strange way she seemed more alive with him around. The fear was still there, but it had been forced underground, and she had the vague feeling that if she could just keep it there, her life might actually get turned in the right direction. Monday afternoon as she sat in the auditorium, she wasn't at all surprised when Jaylon stopped at her seat to say hi. However, when he asked to sit down with her, it took her a moment to decide he was serious. "Sure," she said, just as she heard the sound behind her. She turned and found herself suddenly in the unenviable position of sitting between two adversaries. "Hey, Nick." When Nick looked at her and then over her head at Jaylon, she thought for a moment that he might simply turn around and leave. "Did you recover from Slurpies in November?" she asked as the tension dropped over her again. "Slurpies in November," Nick said, reluctantly taking the seat next to her without so much as a nod at Jaylon. "You ought to have your heads examined." "Hey, you were driving," she said. On her left Jaylon shifted in his seat, and she turned her attention to him. "So, one week to try-outs. You got the whole thing memorized yet?" "I've been working on it," Jaylon said like a piece of wood. "Yeah, I think I've decided to just play hooky on Monday," Camille said. "There's a great plan," Nick said, and there was only harshness in the words. "Then Allen can flunk you, and you get to start over again." Camille bit the edge of her bottom lip. "Oh, yeah. We wouldn't want that. Huh?" No one said anything, and she ducked her head over her Physics homework. "No. We definitely wouldn't want that." "That's the bell," Mrs. Allen said, striding onto stage as if on cue. "Get settled, please." Slowly the noise level decreased to silence. "A few minor details to get out of the way," Mrs. Allen said. With her elbows glued to her sides lest she touch either guy, Camille sat, staring at Mrs. Allen and trying to make sense of what she was saying. Something about a play over Thanksgiving and running out of time. Then she said something, and suddenly everyone started moving again. Camille looked around, struggling to get her brain to work. "Camille," Nick said, standing next to her seat, and when she looked up, she found herself in the middle of them, both of them staring down at her, and her with no idea what anyone had said. With undisguised contempt Nick glanced at Jaylon. "You want to be my partner or not?" Partner? Uh-oh. Camille glanced at Jaylon feeling the trap snap around her. "Umm, maybe we could ask Steph to join us." "Steph?" Jaylon asked, but Camille didn't wait for him to put the pieces together. She didn't have time. "Stephanie!" she called, jumping up from her seat. "Hey, why don't you come work with us?" Surprise was the first thing to cross Stephanie's face, followed quickly by delight. When Stephanie made it abreast of them, Camille wrapped her arm through the smaller girl's with a veil of happiness draped firmly over the misgiving in her chest. "We need another girl, and you're the best Lauren around." Stephanie smiled and allowed herself to be led to the back by Camille, who was followed closely by Jaylon and Nick. Knowing that if she had any hope of keeping the peace, she had to take the reins, Camille grabbed them with a vengeance. "Steph, why don't you and Nick read the Lauren-Hawk part?" Camille asked as she folded her legs underneath her. "Then J. and I can take the Dominique-Hawk one." "So you've never wondered what you want to do with your life then?" Nick asked, and Stephanie fell right into place as Lauren.
"You read really well," Jaylon said to Stephanie, and he sounded like he meant it. "Thanks," Stephanie said as a smile burst onto her face. Then she turned to Camille. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" "Yeah," Camille said from her position in between Jaylon and Nick even as she wished there was a way to simply disappear. "See ya." With a wave, Stephanie sauntered up the aisle and disappeared through the door. "She's nice," Nick said, startling Camille back from her escape plans. "Yeah, she is." One guy on either side of her Camille stepped out of the row and made her way up the aisle. If she could just figure out a way to get them passed this animosity, maybe this wouldn't be so difficult. "Boy, listening to you two, Mrs. Allen is going to have a tough time casting Hawk." "I don't think Lauren is going to be a piece of cake to cast either," Jaylon said. "Lauren?" Camille asked in surprise. "Ariana's got a lock on that part." Nick shook his head as his arm pushed through the door to let the other two through. "I wouldn't be so sure of that." "Trust me," Camille said. "The casting of Lauren won't even be a close race." "Maybe, maybe not," Nick said. "No, Nick. I think Camille has a point. Lauren's going to be easy to cast," Jaylon said. Disgustedly Nick shrugged. "Whatever you say. You're the expert." "Well, this is my turn," Jaylon said, stopping in the middle of the melee. "Take care you two." "Yeah, you too," Camille said, and then she realized that Nick hadn't stopped with them. With a quick wave to Jaylon, she turned her steps down the hallway. "Hey, Nick, wait up!" Three long steps later she caught up with him. "Okay, I know this is a stretch, but could you at least not start World War III over this?" "I was civil." "Barely," she said. "Look, I know he's not your favorite person, and I can deal with that. But he is my friend, and I'd appreciate it if you'd at least try not to look like you're going to be sick when he's around." At their lockers, Camille opened hers with a bang. "Trouble?" Lexie asked, raising her eyebrows. "Jaylon," Nick said with a clinch of his jaw. "Ah." Lexie nodded and then exhaled. "Is he really so terrible?" "Yes," Nick said. "No," Camille said at the same time. Lexie looked from one to the other. "Fine. Then you're just going to have to agree to disagree about this and be done with it." "Fine," Nick said angrily. "Fine," Camille said as she slammed her locker closed and turned on her heel. "I've got to get home." And without waiting for a reply, she stomped out. She could see being upset about the whole play thing. She really could, but she wasn't Nick. And he wasn't her. And no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't make herself not trust Jaylon-or stop liking him. At the bus stop, she leaned against the pole and tried to work through a solution to the whole mess, but all she found was more problems. "Going my way?" Jaylon asked in her ear, and instantly Camille turned and smiled. "You've got to quit doing that. You know?" "I know." The gleam in his eyes said he had no intention of quitting. "But it's just so much fun." "For you maybe," she said, turning to face him. "So, you want a ride or not?" "What do you think?"
"Hey, girlfriend," Camille said, greeting her sister. "How was school?" "We made turkeys!" Daria said, and then she spied Jaylon who was sitting at the table. "Hi, Dar," he said as if she might actually be mad he was there. "Hi," she said softly as she cowered behind Camille. He held a tentative hand out to the little girl. "Can I see your turkey?" Slowly Daria set it on the table in front of him, and Jaylon fanned both hands through his hair as he laid his hands on the table before resting his chin on top of them. "Very, very nice. I think you could be an artist if this whole acting thing doesn't work out." Daria giggled. "You got homework?" Camille asked. "A little," Daria said, scrunching her nose. "Well, why don't you go get it done? Mom will be home in a little bit, and then we'll eat." "Okay," Daria said and skipped off down the hallway. Jaylon watched her go, and then he looked at Camille who had already resumed her position stirring supper. "You really are more like her mother." Camille shrugged. "Somebody's got to." Feeling the statement encroaching a little too close to her core, she turned her attention to the script on the counter and leafed through it. "I really need to work on the Dominique-Lauren fight. I think I've got Lauren down pretty well, but Dominique is really giving me fits." For a moment he looked like he might object, but then he picked up his script. "Go for it."
He read Lauren's lines all the while wishing he could hear Camille read them. She was such a perfect Lauren, so natural in her love of books and her endearing awkwardness, but she was just as natural at the innate goodness that Lauren personified. Yes, Mrs. Allen had to be absolutely blind to pass over Camille for the part of Lauren. "I hate to break this up," Camille said suddenly glancing at the clock over his head, "but I need to go check on Daria and her homework and finish supper before Mom gets home." "Oh, no problem." Jaylon closed his script and stood from the table. "I guess I need to be getting home too." A step at a time Camille followed him to the door. However, at the door his heart said he just didn't want to leave yet, and it turned him around and brought him with a bump right into her. "Oh, sorry," she said, taking a surprised step backward. His heart wanted to look at her, but his brain wouldn't let him for fear he might lose all semblance of cool right there. "I'll see you in school tomorrow?" "Yeah," she said, but the syllable barely made it from her lips to his ears. "Well, take care of yourself," he said, stalling for one more precious moment with her. "You, too." Then before he had time to question it, he leaned in and brushed her lips with his. It was a simple act that had hounded his mind ever since their first kiss on his doorstep, but the second his lips touched hers, the gesture was anything but simple. Stunned by the intensity that washed through him with that one simple touch, he pulled away from her and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'd better be going." "Yeah." With a single nod, he wrenched the doorknob and escaped outside. He didn't want to, but it was quickly becoming clear how close to the edge of sanity he was living these days. Camille Wright, with her glasses and books, made no sense in his life. And yet the more he was with her, the more it was beginning to feel like she was the only thing in his life that made any sense at all.
With the Thanksgiving holiday, the center would be closed for the weekend making even that prospect of seeing him disappear. So it was with a heavy heart that she said good-bye to him, promising even as she did so that she would practice over the break. Leaving him was like leaving a piece of her heart behind, and all day Thursday her thoughts kept bumping into him. Thanksgiving with family. It sounded wonderful. In her world Thanksgiving was three people hovered over a small chicken, browned in the oven, some Stove Top Stuffing, and a couple of pathetic looking yams. It was supposed to be festive, but it wasn't. Her family had never quite perfected the festive mood. There were always too many problems bearing down on them for that. After dinner, Camille escaped to her room under the pretext of working on college applications, but once there, she pulled out her script and flopped onto her bed. If she could just get Dominique down...
"More turkey?" Marianne asked Jaylon's grandfather as she held up a slab with knife and fork. "Certainly," Mr. Russell Quinn, Sr. said, offering his plate. "It's all so wonderful, Marianne," Jaylon's grandmother said approvingly. "Well, we're just so glad you all could make it," Marianne said with the fakest smile Jaylon had ever seen. Burying his gaze deep in the middle of his turkey and gravy, he forked into it, wishing he could simply disappear. "So, Jaylon, my boy, have you made the big decision yet?" his grandfather asked, and Jaylon dug deeper into his hole. "Umm, no. Not yet." "Don't mumble," his father mumbled to him angrily. "You were raised better than that." Reluctantly Jaylon looked up from his plate and cleared his throat. "Umm, no, Sir. I haven't made up my mind yet." "He got an application to Duke yesterday," his father said emphasizing the statement with a proud smile. "Duke?" his grandfather said obviously impressed. "That's a good school. Good school, good grades, good job." "That's what I keep telling him," his father said. "But you know kids today. They don't seem to see an opportunity when it walks up and knocks them over the head." "Well, Russ," his grandfather said with a patronizing smile. "Now there are a lot of good schools out there. I'm sure Jaylon can find one he likes." "What are you planning on studying?" his grandmother asked, completely oblivious to the fact that Jaylon was no longer a part of the conversation. "I'm trying to talk him into marketing or finance," his father said. "Isn't that right, J?" "Yeah," Jaylon said to his turkey. "Jaylon Patrick," his father said sharply, causing every gaze in the room to snap to his face, and instantly he smiled at the rest of the table. "Sorry," Jaylon said sullenly. "Umm, I haven't really decided what I'm going to study yet." He looked up at the gazes glued to him, and for one reckless second his heart took over for his brain. "I'd kind of thought about acting." "Humph," his grandfather said, instantly dropping his gaze as he knifed into his turkey. "Actors are a dime a dozen, son, and most of them make about that much money at it too." "Now, Russell, that's not true. Didn't you read what that Altman guy got for his last picture?" Jaylon's grandmother said. "That's one in a million, Arlene. That's not reality," his grandfather said dismissively. Then he leveled his knife at Jaylon. "I say you should listen to your father. Marketing and finance are fine fields, and you wouldn't be scraping the bottom of the bucket to make ends meet either." The fight and the recklessness beaten right out of him, Jaylon nodded as his head bent closer to the table. What he wanted mattered less than a squashed bug to these people, and that would never change. "You really should listen to your grandfather. He knows of what he speaks," Jaylon's father said solidly. Then he looked to the far side of the table. "Could you pass me some more of those yams?"
"Camille!" her mother called down the hall, startling her to her feet. "Phone!" "Coming!" Without so much as a backward glance, she left her books, went down the hall, and into the kitchen. "Who is it?" "Some boy." Her mother sat down at the table obviously having no intention of giving her oldest daughter privacy with this call. Carefully Camille pulled the phone off the counter and cleared her throat. "Hello?" "Hey," Jaylon said, and she couldn't stop the smile even as she turned to the counter. "Hey." "Happy Thanksgiving." "Same to you." "So, are you totally bored out of your mind yet?" "Getting there." "So am I. You up for a little road trip?" Concern and confusion draped over her. "Huh?" "A road trip. You know. Get in the car and drive." "Oh." Unconsciously her hand wrapped the phone cord around and around itself. "I don't know." "Dar can come with us-if you're babysitting." "It's not that." Camille glanced at her mother sitting at the table. "I've just got some homework I need to get done." "Over the holidays?" "I don't want to get behind." "Well, you can bring your books if you want-if you need to study." "In the car?" "Or we could work on the script," he said hopefully, and then his side of the line went quiet. "I just thought it would be nice to get away for awhile." "Yeah, I'd really like to," she said, her voice softening with each word. "But I don't think I'll be able to today, but thanks for asking." "Sure." The line hummed between them. "Well, I guess I'd better go then." "Okay." Her heart ached for making her say no. "I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah, Monday." "I'd better go. See ya later." And she signed off before she quietly replaced the phone on its base. "Who was that?" her mother asked. "A guy from school," Camille said with an off-handed shrug. "Oh?" The interest in her mother's voice peeked. "What'd he want?" "Not much." Camille reached into the cabinet and grabbed a glass. "He just thought I might want to go on a drive with him." She felt her mother's gaze following her around the kitchen. "Why'd you turn him down?" "I need to study." Slowly her mother shook her head. "You and those books. They don't replace living you know?" Camille filled her glass and replaced the water in the refrigerator. "I don't want to get behind." "Behind? I'd think you'd be so far ahead by now that you could just quit studying for the rest of the year, and you'd still be ahead of everyone else." Anger and frustration crashed over her. "How would you know? You're never around enough to notice." The words knocked her mother back several inches, and for a long moment, she just sat, staring at her daughter. "I just hate for you to waste your whole senior year holed up in that room of yours. There's so much more to life." Defiantly Camille raised her chin. "Like what? Guys? Parties? Dances?" "Yeah," her mother said slowly. "Well, maybe I want something different for my life. Maybe those things aren't as important to me as they are to..." "Me?" her mother asked as her eyes softened. "Yes, Camille, I have a life, and I'm not going to apologize for that. But you deserve to have a life too." "And Daria?" Camille asked as the anger jumped on her. "What does she deserve? Huh? To be left alone here for hours on end? Is that what she deserves, Mom?" Her mother's gaze fell from Camille's face. "Look, I know I haven't always been the mother you wanted me to be, but I've done my best." "Yeah? Well, you're best isn't good enough." At that moment Camille's gaze snagged on Daria's curls hovering in the doorway. Guilt layered on top of the guilt already in her heart, and seeing no way to say what she really wanted to, Camille stepped passed her sister. "I've got studying to do." She pushed the fearful sound of Daria's voice in the kitchen out of her head as she shut her door and sat back down. The last thing she wanted to do was scare Daria. She, of all people, knew what it was like to hear people you loved fighting over you. But for some reason, when she was around her mother, she couldn't stop her words. It wasn't fair-being asked to be an adult when she had done nothing to ask for that mantle early. Furiously she scribbled a formula on her notebook. What had Jaylon said about liking how she was when she had fun? Well, she did too. However, that wasn't real life. Not even close. Slurpies at midnight in November. That was for kids-for irresponsible, immature kids, and she had far too much to do to waste time being irresponsible and immature.
"Who is it?" she asked, not sure who would be worse-her mother or Daria. "The Easter Bunny," the voice on the other side said, and she smiled despite the confusion that jumped to her mind. Instantly she reached over and twisted the knob. "J?" The door swung inward, and there, leaning on the doorframe was the black jacket, the dark hair, and the steel blue eyes, gazing down on her with a smile tucked firmly behind them. "What are you doing here?" she asked as she sat back in her chair in astonishment. "Well, I figured if I couldn't get Mohammed to the mountain, then I'd bring the mountain to Mohammed." "Huh?" He shrugged. "I figured if you were too busy to come with me, then I'd come sit with you." Camille shook her head. "You must really be bored." He laughed. "Totally. So, what do you say? You need some company?" Her gaze fell to her books as the formulas swam before her eyes. "I don't know how much company I'll be." "Well, anything's better than staring at my walls all afternoon." He straightened and took a hesitant step into her room. At her bed, he sat on the edge of it. "What are you studying?" "Calculus." He wrinkled his nose. "More math." "As usual," she said with a laugh. She put her pencil back to the notebook, but Calculus had suddenly lost all of its allure. "So, how was your Thanksgiving?" "Boring," he said, laying his chin on the corner of her chair, causing her thought processes to cease altogether. "How about yours?" "About the same." She glanced over at him and laughed softly. "What?" "You must be really hard up to want to sit there and watch me do Calculus." "I figured if maybe I'd sit here long enough, you'd get tired of math and take me up on my offer." "A drive?" she asked, returning her attention to her book in self-defense. "I couldn't hurt to try." Her pencil worked over the notebook. "Well, where would we go?" "It's a secret." Instantly wary she looked at him. "A secret? That's pretty broad." He grinned at her. "Say you'll come, and you can find out." She forced her pencil to continue for two more seconds, but when he didn't move, her brain frazzled. He couldn't really be serious about sitting here watching her all day. Could he? "Your mom said it would be all right," he said, sensing he had a foothold. "Oh, she did. Did she?" Camille asked, trying to be angry, but not quite making it. "And she'll watch Dar, so we're free and clear." Free and clear. For some inexplicable reason those words struck fear into her heart. "And what if I say no?" "Then I sit here and watch you all afternoon." With a sigh aiming for resignation, Camille looked at him. "You're not going to give this up. Are you?" He raised both eyebrows at her. "Nope." "Fine." She slammed her pencil to the desk. "Then I give up." "I was hoping you'd say that."
"When you said drive, you weren't kidding," Camille said, her gaze firmly planted outside. "I hope you don't mind." He glanced over at her. "I just really didn't want to be alone." Her gaze swung back into the car and settled on him. "Why not?" "Oh, you know... life." He fought to get a relaxed smile on his face. "It's just been one of those days." "Want to tell me about it?" she asked, reaching out to him with only her words, but he felt their gentle touch just the same. He shook his head as the smile slid off his face. "It's a lot of things." "Pick one." He exhaled, wondering how ridiculous and insignificant his problems would seem next to hers. "I'm not going to apply to Julliard." Instantly her eyebrows knitted together. "Why not?" As though it meant nothing, he shrugged. "It's not worth it." "Not worth it? But I thought it was your dream." "Yeah, I thought so too." His hands guided the car around the final turn and up the driveway now overgrown except for the two tire tracks lining it. Camille's gaze traveled from him out to the little farmhouse and the old tree beyond. "Where are we?" Quickly, he shoved the car into park. "Come on." With questioning eyes, she met him at the front of the car, and as though he was reaching for the last branch on his way down a mountainside, he grabbed for her hand. It felt right. As strange and unfathomable as that was, it just felt right. Side by side they walked through the underbrush until he stopped at the tree and pulled her in to his chest. "Jaylon, it's beautiful," she said, so softly he knew she felt the magic too. The creek somewhere far below bubbled over the rocks on its way to forever as above them the wind brushed through the tree branches, which still clung to the last of their autumn clothes. Peace settled over him as his soul opened up. Without willing them to, his eyes fell closed and let the rest of his senses imprint this feeling on his memory instead. Camille, small and soft, fit perfectly into the circle of his arms, and as he stood there wrapped around her, he wondered how he had ever thought he had truly lived before this moment. Words, pale and bleak, couldn't come close to describing the sensations unleashed by the feeling of her body next to his. Gently his hands ran themselves over her arms even as he felt her head relax into the warmth of his chest. A single tear, unbidden, wound down his cheek, chilled by the soft wind wafting passed him. If life could get anymore perfect than this, he certainly didn't know how. Unconsciously his hand reached up and feathered his hair back from his eyes just before running itself deftly over his cheek. Crying. It was such a sissy thing to do. He would never have been caught dead with tears on his face in Ariana's presence or Seth's or anyone else's on the face of the earth. He felt Camille's head lift, and when he looked down at her, he knew she had seen it. A soft smile formed in his heart. "So, what do you think?" "I don't know what to think." She gazed up at him. "Why did you bring me here?" The peace from moments before vanished, and nerves filled its space. "I've just always thought this was a really cool place. I thought you might think so too." Her smile banished a measure of his nerves. "It's amazing." Once again, she laid her head into him and this time wrapped one arm around his waist. She stood simply holding him for a long moment. "So, are you going to tell me or not?" "Tell you what?" "Why your dream isn't worth it." He stood unspeaking, the words all jamming themselves into the same space in his brain, and somehow he hadn't even known they were there. "You don't have to act like it doesn't matter," she said softly. "Because I know it does." Slowly he shook his head, trying to clear it of his father's words and brush hers away simultaneously. "It was stupid to ever even think about going." "Why?" "Because I'm not good enough to get in there." "How do you know?" "Because." Anger flashed into his voice. "I look at Ari, and she's so intense about Julliard. It's like it's her destiny to go there, and she'll die if she doesn't get to go. But it was never like that for me." "Never?" Confusion knotted across his forehead. "Not really. It was always more of her dream than mine." Camille pulled back enough to look at him. "Then why does not going bother you so much?" He couldn't meet her gaze as his fell to the grass at their feet. "Because I'm not just giving up on Julliard." Wordlessly she watched him, simply waiting for the rest of the story. He looked at her sadly. "My dad wants me to go to Duke." Her gaze never wavered from his eyes. "And what do you want?" With an angry yank, he pulled himself from her and leaned against the tree like a limp reed. "I don't know. What does it matter?" "What does it matter?" she asked incredulously. "It matters for every conceivably important reason in the world." "To who?" he asked, and the callousness bit into him. "Certainly not to my dad." Her tone softened then. "Well, to me for one, but more importantly it matters to you." "How do you know that?" "Because your dreams are a part of you. That's how. They're a part of who you are-who you really are when nobody else is around. They aren't just a piece you can break off and set down and forget they ever existed. They're woven into you." She stepped behind him and placed her hand in the warm space over his heart. "They're woven into here." Defiantly he tried to push the gentleness of her touch away from his heart. "But what if nobody else understands them? What if everybody else thinks I'm making a huge mistake?" "Who's living this life you or them?" He laughed softly at the import of that statement and shook his head. "You've got it all figured out. Don't you?" "Me?" She let her hand drop as she stepped away from him toward the gash. "Yeah, right. I'm as lost as you are." His gaze followed her the several paces she took away. "Well, you hide it pretty well." Her arms wrapped around her chest. "I guess I've had a lot of practice." Then she turned on him, pinning him to the tree with one look. "But this isn't about me. It's about you and your decision or non-decision as it looks now. So, if Julliard is out, what then?" "If I knew that, my life would be solved." "Life doesn't get solved," she said with a laugh. "You get through every day just to get to the next day's problems. They don't just give up and go home you know." He smiled at her hopefully. "Do you think maybe we could figure out a way to make them go home and not come back?" "Julliard." Her gaze never softened. "If you're not applying there, then where?" The smile faded. "I don't know." "Duke?" "No." "UCLA?" Stunned that she had remembered that off-handed reference, he stopped. "Maybe." "Maybe. Well, that's at least progress. Where else?" "NYU," he said softly, giving voice for the first time to the thought that he'd only allowed himself to think in the middle of the night with the darkness surrounding him. "NYU?" she asked, stopping her barrage of questions. "Really?" He shrugged. "They've got a good drama school, and everything. But..." "But what?" she asked, not letting him off the hook for even a second. His head slowly moved back and forth. "My dad." "Ah-ha." The confusion lifted from her face. "So it's not the school he's so worried about then." Jaylon couldn't meet her gaze. "Well, if drama isn't his idea of the perfect major what is?" Squirming just to say the word, he looked at her sheepishly. "Finance." Her eyebrows shot up. "Finance? You?" "Yes, me. Why? Is that so hard to believe?" "Well, no," she said slowly, and then she looked right at him. "Well, yes. If you know anything about you, finance would be like last on the list-right behind chicken farming and calculus." "That's pretty low," he said, fighting the smile. She laughed. "Yeah, it is." Then she grew serious. "So, what then? Are you going to tell him you're going to live your own life, or are you going to let him live your life for you?" Jaylon shrugged, wishing he never had to answer that question. "Do I have to answer that?" "Yeah," she said softly. "I'm afraid you do." In the darkness he laid his hand over his heart just as she had done, and the calmness of her presence fell over him. In a breath his decision was made. Whether it made any sense to his father or to anyone else, it was where he wanted his life to go. He sat up and snapped on the light. Padding quietly across his room, he snapped on his computer and pulled up the application he had downloaded three months before. "Your dreams are a part of you," she whispered from the depths of his heart. "They're a part of who you are-who you really are when nobody else is around." With those words woven
tightly into the fabric of his being, he laid his fingers to the
keyboard, and for the first time he began putting his dreams down
on paper for the rest of the world to see. The first impression Camille had of Jaylon when he took his seat next to hers on Monday afternoon was that he looked lighter somehow. "Hey," she said. "How was the rest of your weekend?" "Great," he said with a smile couched in undeniable happiness. "Did you talk to your dad?" "Not yet, but I did send this off." He flipped a set of stapled papers onto her lap. Questioningly she picked them up, and the understanding washed over her. "NYU." He nodded. "Wish me luck." "Luck," she said just as his gaze jumped over her head. She turned as Nick slid into the seat on the other side of her. "Well, look what the cat dragged in." "You ready for this?" Nick asked, holding up the script, and immediately Camille wished he hadn't. "As ready as I'll ever be I guess," she said. "You?" "I'm just ready to get it over with," Nick said. "Me, too," Jaylon said although Camille wasn't quite sure the conversation included him. Furtively she handed the application back to Jaylon and sat up straighter when Mrs. Allen stepped onto the stage. Camille pushed her glasses up onto her nose, knowing there was no backing out now even though she was still looking for a last possible escape. "As you all know tryouts begin today." Mrs. Allen slid the chalkboard over to the center of the stage. "I've drawn up a preliminary schedule for the initial auditions. We'll start with each person trying out on one part for your grade, and then I'll have callbacks as I begin actually casting the parts. Questions?" Camille sank in her chair, not buoyed one bit by the presence of the two experienced thespians on either side of her. "We'll start with the Dominique-Lauren discussion," Mrs. Allen said, writing the topic on the board. Praying that her name would not appear, Camille watched the chalkboard. Jennifer and Melissa. When Mrs. Allen turned, Camille let out a whoosh of air. Jaylon leaned into her. "Saved." Not thinking it was nearly as funny as he seemed to, she glowered at him. The two girls stepped onto stage looking as afraid as Camille knew she would eventually. "Good luck," she whispered from her seat as, on stage, the fight started.
"So, we're down to Ethan and Dominique and Hawk and Lauren," Jaylon said, looking over to Nick. "Which one do you want?" "Lauren," Nick said, and although Camille knew he was seriously trying to be a pain, she laughed anyway. "Now that I can see." She hugged her books and walked out between the two of them. "In neon lights, 'Don't Listen to the Fates, featuring Nick McGee as Lauren.'" "I don't know," Jaylon said jokingly. "He's good, but I still think that would be a stretch." "Well, which one do you want?" Nick asked defensively as they reached the door. "I'd like Hawk," Jaylon said honestly. "But I'm probably better for Ethan." "Why's that?" Nick asked taken aback. "Conceited, obnoxious, annoying?" Jaylon asked, looking at Nick. "You really have to ask?" For a split second fear jumped into Camille's gut. Please be nice, Nick. Please. "Well, you're not that bad," Nick said, and around the edges of the statement lurked a laugh. "See," Jaylon said, looking at Camille with a nod. "Ethan." She smiled at him and shook her head. "Just be glad you're going to get something. I'm just praying I don't get up there and choke." With one hand she reached up and clenched her throat as she made gagging sounds. "Such great confidence she has," Jaylon said to Nick. "Hey, if she gets on the stage, that's an accomplishment," Nick said. The gagging noises stopped. "I'll have you know I have every one of these lines memorized, so there." "Oh, yeah?" Nick asked teasingly. "Prove it." For one blink she tried to make herself remember where she was, but then his challenge took over. "Mom used to take me to the office with her sometimes, and I'd watch her sitting there, taking orders from all these other people about when something was supposed to be done or how it was supposed to be done. I'd sit in that corner, and I'd be reading. But I wasn't really reading at all, I was watching. I was watching her-I was watching her lose who she was a little bit at a time. "And then when I was older, I asked her once about why she didn't stand up to those people, and she said, 'Lauren, the only way to stand up to them is if you have more education than they do, and I just don't.'" "But education's only a part of it," Jaylon said, falling right into the part even standing smack in the center of the hallway. Camille shook her head. "Not according to my mom. To her, an education's everything. 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." "So, what then? You're going to be a banker? A lawyer? A doctor? What?" "It doesn't matter. I'm going to be something. Something big. Something powerful. Something so important that people can't make me feel..." Suddenly Camille looked around and came back to reality even as her books crushed themselves against her. "...like I'm not enough." Blinking back the shock, Nick gazed at her, his feet frozen to the spot. "That's amazing." Without glancing at Jaylon, Camille shrugged. "It won't be tomorrow though. I just wanted to prove to you I could do it." "Well, you certainly did that," Nick said. Jaylon stood for one more moment. "I'd better get." "Take care," Nick said, waving slightly. "I'll see you," Camille said, and defiantly turned her steps down the hallway. She felt Nick come abreast of her again. " |