“It was at our master class; he was trying to teach us how to focus through distractions or something. He told us if we weren’t willing to stab ourselves in the leg for art, we didn’t deserve to be here.”
Russell’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I know the guy is supposed to be brilliant, but that is all kinds of messed up.”
“I know, right? Thank you!” My voice comes out louder than I expected, but it’s so reassuring that someone else has noticed that the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes. “When I complained about it to a bunch of the apprentices yesterday, they were like, ‘But Marcus is a genius, the whole thing was a metaphor, blah, blah.’ I don’t care if it’s a metaphor! He threw eggs at me!”
“Did he actually teach you anything?”
I want so badly to be able to say yes, that even though it was difficult and humiliating, it also taught me lessons I’ll carry with me for the rest of my career. I want yesterday’s class to have proven that I made the right decision by coming to Allerdale. But it didn’t, and I know I don’t have to lie to Russell about it. He doesn’t expect anything from me.
“Honestly?” I say. “No. Not at all.”
“At least egg is good for your hair, right?”
I laugh. “How do you know that?”
“Olivier told me. He says his hair is so thick and soft because he uses these egg yolk treatments on it. I mean, it sounds weird, but it’s definitely working for him. You think I should try it?”
I want to laugh at his intimate knowledge of his boss’s hair texture, but it seems too early in our friendship to tease him about his crush. So I say, “I can’t say I recommend it, after yesterday. Your hair looks nice as it is.”
“Thanks.” Russell holds the door for me, and we head across the lawn toward the dorms.
“So, are you going to stop coming to rehearsals, since Clark doesn’t want a set?” I ask.
“No, he’ll probably change his mind. Plus, watching you all pretend to walk through a lake of tar was pretty glorious.”
I shove his shoulder. “Ugh, shut up.”
“Don’t blame me,” Russell says. “If you weren’t so good at strutting like a peacock, I wouldn’t be forced to keep showing up.”
He flounces down the path in a ridiculous imitation of my peacock walk, twitching his butt from side to side, and I burst out laughing. “You’re a terrible person,” I say.
“But you’re glad I’m not leaving, right?” He elbows me in the arm. “Admit it. You’d be supersad if I weren’t around.”
“I would. I don’t think I could face this insanity without you.”
Russell smiles and pats my shoulder, and the unexpected force makes me stumble forward. He’s a lot stronger than he thinks. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I wouldn’t leave you alone in there. I’ve got your back.”
By the time I get back to the dorm, the warm, fuzzy feeling of Russell’s companionship has worn off, and the futility of my situation hits me like a canoe paddle to the face. I’m not cast on the main stage. The master classes are humiliating bullshit masquerading as brilliant lessons in technique. My “show” is so nebulous that the person writing it doesn’t even seem to know what it’s about. So what am I doing here at Allerdale? Slinging a wrench all summer isn’t going to teach me how to be a real performer or help me fit in with my family. I might as well be working at the Pinkberry down the street from my apartment. It would certainly make my back hurt less.
When I open the door to my room, Zoe’s on the phone, but the second she registers the expression on my face, she says, “Hey, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Love you.” She makes a kissing noise and hangs up. “You all right?” she asks. “How’d rehearsal go?”
I drop my bag onto the floor. “I think ‘absurd’ pretty much covers it?”
“Oh no. What happened?”
I tell her everything, imitating put-upon Clark and silent Alberto and Pandora’s sexy animal walks. Zoe listens to the whole thing with wide, sympathetic eyes, but she’s also laughing. She has this boisterous, unrestrained giggle that’s way goofier than I’d expect from someone so put-together. When I’m done, I flop facedown onto my bed. “I’m glad my pain amuses you,” I say.
“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. The whole thing sounds awful. It’s just, you looked exactly like Pandora when you did that sexy cat walk. She’s in Midsummer with us, and that’s her fairy walk, too.”
“Well, enjoy my impressions while you can, because it’s obviously the only acting I’m going to be allowed to do here.”
“Aw, don’t say that,” Zoe says. “It’s possible it’ll get better, right? When Alberto finally manages to write a script, maybe—”
“It’s not going to get better,” I say. “The whole thing is a complete joke. Seriously, if they thought I wasn’t good enough to be here, they should’ve rejected me. They didn’t have to punish me with Se?or Hidalgo.”