Chapter 144: it’s just a performance

Chapter 144 — It’s Just a Performance

Roxanne held her phone out across the dormitory so Isla could read the showcase schedule. She tapped the last paragraph with one finger.

"A question-and-answer session. After the acts."

"That’s exciting," said Isla, sitting up against her pillows.

"It’s an unnecessary opportunity for people to ask things I don’t want to answer. What if someone asks what inspired the scene?"

"Tell them the truth."

"The truth is that Liam annoyed me into joining a drama workshop."

Isla considered this with great seriousness. "That’s actually a good answer."

"It is not an answer for a hall full of people."

"It’s honest. It’s funny. And it’s true."

Roxanne put the phone down and frowned at the ceiling. The question itself was not the problem. She could stand up and talk about a stolen crown and some missing horses without breaking into a sweat. What worried her was the thought of an audience watching two siblings argue about expectations and deciding that every tender moment was a confession about her own life.

She would have to talk to Liam before the next rehearsal.

She found him in the rehearsal room the next afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the stage with a sandwich. She explained it plainly, standing with her arms folded, and he listened with his mouth full and his eyes serious.

"I hadn’t thought about the questions," he admitted, once he had swallowed. "I was only thinking about whether the ending worked."

"I know."

"What do you want to do?"

"If anyone asks about the inspiration, we talk about the characters. The story we built. Not our private lives."

"That’s reasonable." He brushed crumbs off his knee. "I promise not to make any jokes that put you on the spot."

She raised an eyebrow. "You’re promising not to embarrass me in public?"

"I’m promising to embarrass you in ways you’ve approved in advance."

"That isn’t what I said."

"Fine. I’ll behave."

"Say it again without the joke."

Liam looked at her. Then he set down the sandwich, and said it simply. "I won’t put you on the spot. I’ll follow your lead."

"Thank you."

It mattered more than she let on. He had not treated her boundary as a dare or a challenge to be tested. He had picked it up and put it where she wanted it.

The coordinator held a practice session that evening, sitting on a chair at the front of the room with a clipboard on her knee like an examiner. "Pretend I’m the audience. Why do your characters decide to return to the palace instead of escaping for good?"

Liam answered first. "My character finally understands that protecting someone doesn’t mean deciding their future for them."

"Mine wants the freedom to choose what happens next," Roxanne said, "even if the choice is difficult."

"Lovely. And is either character based on someone you know?"

Roxanne froze for half a second. It was brief, but she felt it, like a missed stair.

"They’re fictional," Liam said easily, before the silence could grow. "Though the arguments were inspired by the kind of disagreement people have when they care about each other and see things differently. I think everyone has had one of those."

The coordinator nodded, wrote something down, and moved to the next question. Roxanne let out a breath. She did not have to explain herself to make the scene mean something. The story could stand on its own two feet.

Serena found them in the corridor afterwards, a scarf looped twice around her neck and a folder under one arm. "How is it going?"

"Well," said Roxanne. "Except for the questions. I worry I’ll say something awkward."

"You do not need an answer for every possible question," Serena said. "You only need to know what you are comfortable discussing. If someone asks something personal, say you would rather keep that private. That is a complete sentence."

"It feels rude."

"It is not. It is boundaries with good manners." Serena smiled slightly. "You do not owe anyone a detailed explanation."

Roxanne turned that over as Serena walked away. She had spent so long defending herself against other people’s assumptions that she sometimes forgot she could decline to take part in the conversation at all. It was a strange, light thought, like finding out a door she had been leaning against was unlocked.

They ran the scene one last time before the room was locked. Roxanne stopped imagining the audience, the rows of faces and the judging eyes, and held on to the story. The final exchange landed softly. Liam did not rush his line, and she let the ending breathe, and the silence after Then stop following me and walk beside me felt like something solid they had built together.

"You’re ready," the coordinator said, from the back. "Both of you."

Liam turned, glowing. "See? We’re going to be brilliant."

"Let’s settle for competent."

"Your faith in me is overwhelming."

"I’m trying not to inflate your ego before the performance."

He laughed. Then he looked at the floor and scratched his neck, and said, more quietly, "Thank you for doing this with me."

She was briefly surprised by how sincere it sounded. "Thank you for asking me to try it," she said. "Even if you did forget, at first, that I had a choice."

"I did." He did not wriggle. "That was my mistake."

"It was. And you fixed it."

They left the rehearsal on good terms, and she noticed that it did not feel like a truce. It felt like friendship.

That evening, Roxanne laid out two outfits on her bed, a dark green jacket with simple trousers and a softer blue dress, and stood back with her hands on her hips.

"Green," said Isla, from the desk.

"The blue is easier to move in."

"The green makes you look like someone who has decided not to be argued with."

Roxanne picked up the green jacket.

Her phone buzzed. Tessa, from down the corridor. Reminder: the audience will include people who have never seen you perform.

Roxanne wrote back: That is exactly what I find inconvenient.

Stop overthinking. Enjoy it.

I’m not overthinking.

You are hanging two outfits on a bed and staring at them. I can hear it.

You cannot hear it.

I have excellent instincts.

Roxanne laughed, and set the phone down. She read the final script once more, from the first line to the last. She knew her words. She understood the girl she was playing. She had decided what she would say after, and what she would not. For once she felt prepared without needing to control every way the evening might go.

She turned out the lamp.

Her phone lit the dark a moment later.

One question before tomorrow, Liam had written.

If this is about changing the ending, I’m blocking you.

His answer came at once. No. I wanted to ask if you’ll still be glad you did this, even if we mess up.

Roxanne looked at the screen for a long time.

Ask me tomorrow, she typed, and set the phone on the nightstand.

She lay awake a while longer, aware, with a small start, that the answer mattered to her more than she had expected.