Page 110 of The Cul-de-Sac War

His cloudy thoughts dissipated. Chip stepped across the pedestrian walkway in the midst of the midday traffic, his feet as light as the bronze fairies’ dancing in the fountain ahead of him.

Because today, he knew the one thing he wanted, and it was time, at last, to do something about it.

Chapter 24

Bree

It was time.

Bree’s legs felt like electric currents as she leaned against the wall of the dressing room where she’d been standing approximately two hours, biting her fingernails down to the nub.

Some had auditioned and gone on to other things—like Kayleigh, who walked offstage after a riveting performance, kissed her hand then waved toward Stephen like she was Regina George in Mean Girls, and said she was off to pick up her Kroger ClickList.

Bree was among those who stayed.

Found a spot to pace backstage.

And waited.

At last, Stephen stood at the wall outside the dressing room door, stapling the cast list to the bulletin board.

“C’mon,” Birdie said, grabbing Bree by the arm and yanking her off the wall.

Bree let herself be dragged for several feet.

“Nope.” Birdie halted suddenly. Dropped Bree’s arm to cross her own. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Birdie started shrinking before Bree’s eyes. Her arms wrapped tighter across her pink leotard waist with each second, as though she were a python trying to constrict herself.

Bree rolled her eyes and sighed. Grabbed Birdie by the shoulders. “Fine. But next time tell me what role you want to have going on here. We can’t both play the pathetically insecure actress hiding in the back of the dressing room. Let’s go.”

Birdie, however, pressed her teeth against her bottom lip so hard it started to turn white. She shook her head. “Nope. I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

Birdie shook her head.

“Sure.”

Birdie, whose face was growing as pale as her tights, shook once more.

So Bree started pushing Birdie down the length of the room like a football player driving a training sled across the field. Which, given Birdie had never taken her tap shoes off and weighed about ninety-seven pounds, made for a fairly simple push.

By the time they were at the bulletin board a crowd had formed. People jostled for a view. Craned necks. Snapped pictures of the cast list and then turned, typing vigorously on their phones.

Bree moved forward, a full head above everyone else.

She could tell Birdie didn’t yet have a clear view of the list. She could tell by the way Birdie slid her hand into Bree’s and squeezed.

But Bree had seen it.

Five seconds later, when Birdie screamed and jumped straight into Bree’s arms, Bree knew Birdie had seen it too.

“We did it!” Birdie squealed, squeezing and hopping and, for such petite arms, crushing the breath right out of Bree’s ribcage. “We did it.”

Birdie pulled back, her face radiant. “Congratulations, Zelda Zanders and chorus girl.”

Bree grinned. “And congratulations to you, Lina Lamont. I’ve never met a more deserving actress playing the undeserving actress.”