Circle the Soul Softly Read Free Page B

then …then nothing is very clear. I shake my head slightly and sigh. Mom jerks her attention over to me with a not-you-too look on her face.
    Playing Clueless But Happy Girl, I smile and ask for the potatoes.

SEVEN
    Saturday rehearsals and here I am—gossiping with the popular girls as the boys are inside running lines. Oh wait. No I’m not. They’re gossiping. I’m pretending they know I’m here.
    At least I’m smiling.
    â€œWhy is this so hard for you?” Frazier teases, throwing her hands up.“‘Friends with benefits’? Give me a break.”
    â€œIt can work,” Layla counters. “Look at whatshername—Kelly, and that guy John.”
    â€œPDA addiction. People who sleep around are sluts.”
    Layla laughs. “So that’s every guy we know?”
    Frazier pops a Famous Amos into her mouth. “And some girls,” she says. Layla sits up straighter.
    â€œPlease,” Frazier mumbles, mouth full of cookie.“She’s out of control and you know it. At Sophia’s. That guy from UCLA. Whatshisname from Crossroads. Should I go on?”
    Layla glances in my direction, but I’ve managed to drop my head over my script. She turns her attention back to Frazier. “Maybe you should just shut up.”
    â€œYeah, well maybe you should be her friend and say something.”
    The line is a cue. A black Jag swerves into the parking space next to us and Stacey slides out. She slams the door, doesn’t say good-bye to her dad or whoever it is driving, and stomps straight into the theater. Frazier grabs another cookie. Layla follows Stacey inside.
    I have a hugely bad feeling, like glass in the pit of my stomach. Like seeing my mother’s face for the first time after my dad died. Like Michael’s energy at the dinner table. Something’s happened with Stacey and, whatever it is, I think I understand. Except how it is that possible? I don’t even know the girl.
    Frazier keeps enjoying her cookies. Layla yells for us to come back in. I expect we’ll find out now that some tragedy’s occurred: Stacey’s mother has died or, at the very least, a grandmother or something. I’ll step up and smile in the way you can when you know how someone feels. Maybe even help.
    We’re running act one, first time off book. We don’t have to stay onstage when the other scenes are working, so I watch Stacey carefully, to pick up on the subtext. Since I know about death firsthand, this might be worth something. Except Stacey seems fine , even more brilliant than usual onstage. And offstage she chats with Layla and teases Jake and ignores me, and I am thankful at least for that, and for the fact that I managed not to actually open my mouth.
    Because Stupid Kate has appeared full force, reminding me that I could never ever have anything in common with a Vogue model.

EIGHT
    Jake is having a cast party. And we haven’t even opened.
    I’m invited .
    As much as I try to pretend it’s no big deal (“Sure, I can go, whatever”), nothing this huge has ever happened in my heretofore Nonexistent Social Life. I talk myself out of it and back into it forty times before Friday:
    I’ll have fun.
    I’ll feel stupid.
    I won’t know what to say.
    I have
nothing to wear.
    SO WHAT, I GOT INVITED and I’M GOING.
    I’ll have fun….
    Endless little circles of insecurity. At long last the Universe takes pity on me and makes Frazier invite me over so we can get ready together. She wants to help me do my makeup and straighten my hair. I don’t usually wear makeup but Frazier thinks I should, and who am I to interfere with divine judgment?
    Michael tries to get me to say exactly where it is. He wants to crash it so he “can meet that hot redhead you hang out with.” How little he knows! I’m not worried because even if he came, he’d know how to act, but I’m guessing he won’t really