“Um … you’re welcome,” Tobin says. “But it’s Daphne you should be thanking. I wouldn’t have found Pear if it weren’t for her.”
“Oh.” Lexie blinks at me as if this is the first time she’s noticed me sitting there, despite giving me a death glare only minutes before. She picks up one of the giant blueberry muffins from Tobin’s basket and offers it to me. “Thanks,” she says. “Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought. If Pear doesn’t recover soon, we will have to consider taking on a new Soprano. We’ll be watching you.” Lexie drops the muffin in my open hand and returns to the front row with her Sopranos.
“They really are kind of like the mafia, aren’t they? ‘Consider this our thank-you,’ ” I say, mimicking the low, raspy Godfather-esque voice.
Tobin laughs. It’s nice to hear a tone coming off him that doesn’t sound so dark. I want to bring up the topic we were discussing before Lexie interrupted, but at the moment, I want to let him be lighthearted. “ ‘We’ll be watching you,’ ” I say in my Godfather voice.
“I wouldn’t put it past her to leave a severed My Little Pony head in your bed if you refuse their membership offer,” he says, and takes a bite of a muffin.
“Friendship is magic,” I say.
Tobin laughs harder, accidentally spitting bits of muffin on my shirt. He clamps his hands over his mouth, still laughing. Which makes me lose it, too.
“What’s so funny?” Iris says, taking the seat on my right.
Neither Tobin nor I can stop laughing long enough to answer her. She rolls her eyes at us. Tobin squeezes my shoulder. I love the sound of his laugh. It’s infectious, just like CeCe’s.
“Quiet down,” Mr. Morgan calls, entering the classroom from his office. “I have a special announcement!”
“Ooh,” Iris says. “I bet he’s finally going to give us details about the musical. Maybe he’ll even announce the leads.” She reaches behind me to smack Tobin on the shoulder in a knowing sort of way. His laughter dies down immediately and he puts his full attention on Mr. Morgan.
“I know many of you were upset that I didn’t announce what musical we would be performing this year before this week’s preliminary auditions,” Mr. Morgan says, standing on the small stage before the semicircle of chairs. He sounds far more like a teacher today, rather than the tyrant he was at the auditions. “But that is because some very special circumstances came up just after the beginning of the school year, and I would have been a fool not to have accepted. I am going to end your suspense and tell you all now, as well as introduce our surprise guest.…” He stops to straighten his tie, but based on the happy tones of anticipation buzzing in the air, I suspect he’s just pausing for the dramatic effect. He smooths down his tie and smiles, practically beaming. “This year, Olympus Hills High will be performing the debut production of a brand-new rock opera. But not just any rock opera—one composed by none other than the ‘God of Rock,’ Mr. Joe Vince himself!” Mr. Morgan sweeps his hands out dramatically, as if presenting us all with a gift as his office door opens, and Joe—my Joe—comes swaggering out to the sudden, uproarious applause and cheers of everyone else in the classroom.
I, however, am completely speechless.
“No way!” Iris practically shouts.
Lexie stands up, clapping, and some of her Sopranos have their hands pressed to their faces like they might just cry. Girls make that gesture a lot when my father is around. At least according to the pictures I’ve seen in Us Weekly.
Joe clasps his hands together and shakes them at the crowd of students. “Thank you, thank you for your warm welcome.”
Tobin turns to me. “Why didn’t you say something about this yesterday, you big fibber?”
“I had no idea.”
“I know holding auditions before announcing the play was unconventional, but we had our reasons,” Mr. Morgan says. “As Mr. Vince tells me, the play is a work in progress, and we will be helping him develop the songs over the next few months. In order to do this, he asked me to select the two best singers in our program, and he will then write the songs specific to their vocal range. The rest of the parts will be assigned over the next few weeks to those who impress Mr. Vince with their hard work and abilities.”
“I am sure the decision will be very difficult,” Joe says, “which is why I left the decision of the lead parts to your instructor. I trust he has chosen the best and the brightest of your group.” He looks right at me and gives a little wink.
A redheaded girl in front of me practically swoons, as if the wink were meant for her.
What on earth is going on? Since when did rock stars write high school musicals? Even for high schools their estranged daughters go to? A school she’s starting because he just showed up out of the blue and insisted on taking her to for no apparent reason she could discern …
And then it hits me. I know exactly what Mr. Morgan is going to say next.