“Then what the hell is going on? Emma’s missed way too many rehearsals to take over the role again. We’re depending on you not to screw this up, and guess what? You keep screwing it up!
I pulled my jacket tighter across my chest to ward off the chill of the hallway. “I know I’m distracted. I have a lot going on.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “If you tell me it’s boyfriend trouble, I’m going to slap the stupid out of you.”
I prayed I wasn’t blushing. “It’s other stuff. Dorian’s… nice.”
“For now,” she said before sighing. “Don’t waste your teens mooning over boys who don’t give a shit. We all do it at some point, but this is me telling you that in the long run, it doesn’t matter. The people you know right now won’t mean anything to you in a decade or two.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
She held up a hand. “You probably think they’re love’s young dream, but Perdy and Nathan are the exception, not the rule. Very few people stick with their teenage sweethearts. People change so much as they age.” She leaned against the wall. “The person you are right now might not be compatible with the person he’ll become, and vice-versa.”
“We’re not getting married.” Why was everybody such an expert on my life? “And Dorian isn’t my problem. Everything else is… I’m stressed out, okay?”
“I saw you with Amelia the other day.” She looked thoughtful. “Look, I know Nathan’s family and whatever like to keep secrets, but you can talk to me if you need help with anything.”
“I’m fine.” I couldn’t tell her any of the things running through my mind. “I don’t need help.”
“You have a lot going on, but you don’t need help. Or to remember your lines, apparently.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This isn’t as important as—”
“Then why are you here?” she said crossly. “What do you want?
“I…”
“Let me know when you’ve figured it out.” She turned and headed for the door.
Crap.
“I want to be somebody else!” I blurted.
She came back, though she looked suspicious. “Go on.”
“I… I feel comfortable in somebody else’s skin. When I’m acting or on stage, I’m not me anymore. I’m not too tall or too pale or too blonde or too skinny. I’m somebody else. I can let go of the things that bug me when I’m playing at being a different person, like I can forget everything I can’t change. I want to know what it’s like to be somebody else.”
“At least we’re getting somewhere now.” She leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest with a tired sigh. “You remind me of me when I was a bit older than you, after I copped on and got more self-aware. Before that, I held on to things, carried weights on my shoulders and burdens that, in retrospect, never even belonged to me. The only time I could shed them was when I was somebody else. So I made a caricature of myself, acted every day to forget the real me, to control what happened. It didn’t work. I had to learn how to be me before I could be anybody else on stage.”
“I’m still learning who I am,” I said. “I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be yet, but sometimes it feels like everyone’s waiting impatiently to find out.” I blew out a sigh. “Or waiting for me to turn into whatever they want me to be.”
“You’re so young. Figuring stuff out only ever comes with time,” she said. “Until then, let yourself go on stage. Stop being afraid of judgement. I hated being tall at your age. I love it now. I wear the highest heels I can find. It gives me the confidence I couldn’t find when I was younger. You’ll tap into that kind of confidence someday, I promise you. And when you do, you’ll learn to love your differences and use them.” She smirked. “I know what you’re thinking. That this is just some community centre, not a real theatre. I’m sure lots of people think we’re wasting our time performing in front of friends and family a couple of times a year, but I think this place is important. It could be exactly what you need right now. Besides, you never know what stage you might end up on. Now.” She stood tall. “Are you ready to perform?”
Was I? Could I shed all of my worries for a while? I desperately wanted to try. “I think I can do it. And thanks,” I added. “I’ll try to concentrate.”
“You look exhausted,” she said. “Get some sleep tonight, for your own good.”
She wasn’t wrong. I didn’t sleep well after my sessions with Amelia, and sometimes I brooded on how close I’d come to screwing up and getting people killed.
Smothering a yawn, I shivered, and then froze to the spot. Icy fingers danced up my spine then crept around to my throat and squeezed. I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to stay present as the edges of my vision turned dark.
It was happening. Something was happening.
“Margo?” Tammie’s voice sounded far off. “Are you all right?”
I tried to speak, to find words that wouldn’t sound crazy, while Tammie looked at me as though she had seen a ghost. That cold warning signal increased in pressure around my temples. My nostrils filled with the scent of something familiar.
“Smoke,” I tried to say as a fire alarm squealed.