Natural Talent, Book One, Day Nine

(Day's Word Count: 45,000)



The costume team was spending the week digging through the costume collection in the hopes of finding pieces that were similar enough to Miguel's drawings to keep us from having to make those costumes. It turned out the room I found the guys in when I was transferred to the team was just one of many costume storage rooms, and there was no organization whatsoever for the costumes in the other rooms. Most of them were doing well to be stored in something other than a heap on the floor.

Michael and I started sorting out one of the piles, trying to put away the more delicate articles of clothing, but we soon gave up when we realized how futile it was. Kaycee ran in, squeaked something, and waved us to follow her. Michael's face clouded. Working with Kaycee at all really seemed to wear his nerves.

In the next room, a senior was directing the search. Clothes were piled all over the place in this room, and it was a miracle anyone could find anything. When Michael and I walked in, the senior asked for our names, and Michael muttered his. I looked at him in surprise. The senior then tried to tell us where to go work, but Michael's eyes were fixed on the floor. Thankfully, I found Miguel working on one pile and dragged Michael over with me. Despite the fact it was only the three of us, Michael wouldn't say a word, and occasionally looked around at everyone else.

I stared at him for several moments after he simply nodded in response to Miguel's question. Past conversations with Angela played through my head. "Wow. You really are shy, aren't you?"

Michael's head snapped up, surprise sharpening his features for a moment, and then he nodded. "When I get on stage or behind a microphone, I can put up some bravado. I play this role in my head so that I won't run. I love acting, but it's really hard sometimes for me to be the guy everyone expects me to be." He sat down beside the pile we were working on. "When I'm off the stage, I want to be myself, and I'm shy. Really shy." He looked toward the hallway that led to the stairs up to the stage. "Joe has been my best friend since we were kids. We started hanging out because we were both shy kids who could do something artistic. Joe figured out how to live with his shyness, and I figured out how to use Joe as a shield against the people who scare me."

Miguel and I looked at each other, amazed. Neither of us has suspected Michael's issues ran so deep because he'd nearly always been fairly relaxed around the two of us.

We settled into a more comfortable silence and worked our way through the pieces in the pile. I thought about what Michael said and realized that I kind of felt the same way, except I was scared by the people in the performing arts. Strangely though, I knew that I wanted to fit into that world, to be part of the same alternate reality my father spent so much of his time living in. I promised myself that I would start trying harder to actually fit in at Broughton, and into its weird alternate universe.

That's when it hit me that I would actually have to seriously consider enrolling in Broughton's summer dance program.

==

It was early February. The snow made the front steps of Broughton a slippery death trap. Most of my classmates had auditioned for their summer programs, including the Ducks. Every day in the locker room, everyone rolled their eyes and tuned out Yoli while she bragged about being practically accepted on the spot back into her old program.

"I looked up that program," Nicola whispered. "The program stopped running five years ago. The company closed because of financial issues." Angela laughed. Yoli heard her and glared at us.

"Think she's realized we're talking about her?" Angela had to catch her breath.

I giggled hollowly. As much as I was enjoying my dance classes, I hated going to class. The only positive thing about class was that Ms. Aeling was criticizing me less. I could only hope that meant she had just taken to ignoring me.

When I walked into class, Ms. Aeling stood by the stereo organizing the CDs and watching us walk in to begin warming up. Nicola had given me a new set of exercises to help me become more limber, and while they were hard, I was already feeling how useful they were.

Class began, and I tried to enjoy it rather than worry about what Ms. Aeling was going to say to me next. We moved quickly through the few barre exercises and came center, but Ms. Aeling asked us to sit down. So far this semester, nothing good had come from Ms. Aeling asking us to sit, so I sat there mentally preparing myself to leave class, either by her choice or my own.

"Ladies, the End of the Year Recital is coming up quickly, and we're going to start working on our pieces now. You will be expected to learn and perform three pieces." I knew I hadn't heard that right. The Spring Gala was over a month away. We were working on preparing for our level auditions, and now we had to learn more dances? "We will be working on these dances during class time so you'll still have time to rehearse your Gala pieces, and we'll begin with the ballet piece. Everybody, up."

I wasn't in the dance program when the freshman class studied ballet. I had nothing more than what Angela and Nicola had taught me. I hoped it was enough, but I just knew I was going to fall flat on my face!

Ms. Aeling arranged us around the room and started teaching us the dance. It was mostly port-de-bras and talie, which made it simple to remember, but a bit boring. It didn't take me long to decide that boring certainly beat out the abject fear of failure any day.

==

During the first week of February ever year, the Broughton faculty offered a series of seminars. We, as Broughton students, were required to attend the lectures that applied to our own disciplines, and we were encouraged to attend other lectures as they fit into our schedules.

I walked into the first lecture offered by the dance department, a lecture on trends in the dance world given by Ms. Lemert, and was surprised to see so many people in the theater. There were several adults and other teenagers I didn't recognize sitting in the small theater. That's when it occurred to me that the lecture series was open to more than just Broughton's students.

Angela and Nicola saw me standing there, looking around like a loser, and waved me over.

"What are all these people doing here?" I asked, throwing my backpack under my chair.

"The Broughton Lecture Series is open to the local performing arts community," Nicola explained. "Our professors are all active or retired performers themselves, and it's well-known that most of them keep up on their fields, even after retirement, so people loook to them as the local experts."

"Oh. That's kind of cool."

The lecture began, and I noticed Angela taking notes. Not wanting to look too out of place, I pulled out a notebook and started doodling stick figures. As I listened to Ms. Lemert talk about advances in staging and choreography, I made my stick figures organize themselves into a little ballet of their own. By the end of the lecture, I'd turned one edge of my notebook into a flip book where my stick figures twirled and jumped for my amusement.

"I think you missed your calling, Lindy." Miguel stood behind us laughing.

"What are you doing here?" Angela and I asked in unison.

"I decided that if I'm going to take an interest in stagecraft, I ought to learn about how it affects all of the performing arts. I have three more years of performances to help design, after all." He winked, and I thought Angela might swoon.

"That's not a bad idea," Nicola agreed, "but i thought you would be applying to Milhouse again."

"Oh, I have an application and portfolio in at Milhouse, but I want to keep an open mind in case I don't get in again."

"It would be a shame if they didn't accept you this year," Nicola smiled.

"Thanks." Miguel beamed at the high praise from Broughton's resident ice princess.

==

The next lecture was given by one of the piano instructors, and Nicola dragged Angela and me with her. Given the fact I only lasted a day or so in the piano program, I expected to find my time wasted, but it was fairly interesting. The instructor talked about the techiniques of a handful of piano players in comparison to each other with an analysis of what could be learned from them. I'm sure it made perfect sense to Nicola, but my stick figure ballet acquired a stick figure pianist at a stick figure piano that looked more like a flying saucer than a grand piano.

Ms. Aeling's lecture laster in the week was nearly as stuffy as she was. She droned on about dance history, tracing the evolution of steps from the court dances of the Renaissance to their counterparts in modern ballet. It was actually quite fascinating to learn that many of the steps I was learning were a few hundred years old and originally performed by men, but she really could have made the presentation more engaging. Angela and I decided it would haver been a great lecture if she had dancers demonstrating the court dances against dances with the steps we learned.

One of the last lectures in the series was my father's, and Angela dragged me to it over my rather loud protests. I was so angry at being forced to listen to my father that I made plans oto let my stick figures hold an execution for a stick figure violinist, but it never happened, Surprisingly, my father was fun to listen to. He presented a lecture on the symbolism of the violin in music, addressing its use across chamber music, dance, and movie soundtracks. For once, I felt like I was actually a part of why my father loved playing the violin, like I actually understood that it wasn't just about what he did well. It was about genuinely adoring the violin and its associations. It made me feel badly that I couldn't connect to the violin the same way.

After the lecture, I tried to drag my friends out of the theater quickly, but my father spotted us just as we got to the door. "I didn't expect to see you here, Lindy Lee. How did you like my little ramble?"

My friends were looking at me funny, mostly because my father had just called his lecture a ramble. "It was pretty cool, actually, Dad."

"I bet you didn't know your old man wasn't a stick in the mud, huh, kid?"

"Dad, I'm fourteen. Don't call me "Lindy Lee" or "kid".

He laughed at that and ruffled my hair fondly, my attempt to assert my lack of childishness failed. It didn't really help that Angela and Nicola both burst out laughing.

I stormed off, "If anybody needs me, I'm going...somewhere else." The truth was, I had nowhere else to be. I just didn't want to be part of the Matthew Stanton Fan Club.

==

The Broughton Lecture Series culminated in Under the Stars, a performance given strictly by the faculty.

Mom had to pick me up from school so I could eat dinner and change for the evening. We returned to Broughton and made our way to the Main Theater. Just as we entered the theater's lobby, Dr. Birchard approached us, his hand extended to my mother," Lindy, how wonderful to see you again."

"It's 'Libby', Dr. Birchard, and it is nice to be here watching Matthew do what he loves," my mother smiled graciously as she clasped my headmaster's hand.

"Yes, it has been a real pleasure to have him teach here." Dr. Birchard turned to me, "And how are you enjoying this semester, Libby?"

I couldn't hide my disgust. I'd visited with Dr. Birchard a few times this school year, and my mother had just corrected him on her own name. How could he have already forgotten which of us was which? "It taking some getting used to, sir."

"Finding your place in the dance program?" He winked and continued on before I could respond. "That's wonderful. I've heard very good things from your teachers. We'll have to arrange for you and your father to perform together at the recital."

"That's okay," I mumbled, and my mother lightly hit my arm.

"The families have special seating, so let the ushers know who you are. Now, if you will excuse me. I need to talk to some of the other parents." He bowed and walked off.

I started to form a rant, but my mother cut me off, "'Libby' and 'Lindy' sound a lot alike." I was still livid. "At least he isn't calling you 'Melinda' anymore, right?"

I'd lost the argument, so I decided to change the subject. "Is it okay if I sit with my friends tonight?"

"Sure, honey. Meet me here after the performance."

"Thanks, Mom." I took off in search of Angela.

When I finally found her, she was chatting with another student. "Hey, Lindy. Not hanging out with your mom tonight?"

"Nope. She gave me the night off."

"Nice. Want to sit with us?"

"Yes, please!"

The girl next to Angela was literally bouncing at this point, "OhmygodyoureMrStantonsdaughterarentyouImAllie!" I blinked as I tried to pull some words out of what she had just said. Laughing in embarrassment, the girl took a deep breath. I was certain she was going to keep talking in her unintelligible language, so I was surprised to discover i could understand her, "Sorry, I'm hyper. You're Lindy Stanton, aren't you?" I nodded, stunned. "I'm Allie. I take violin with your dad. He's so cool!" As I took another look at her, I realized she looked vaguely familiar from freshman violin.

"Allie was just telling me about a new cartoon she's into," the look on Angela's face made it clear that she felt like something of a captive audience.

"It not a cartoon. It's anime. They're from Japan." And off she went at lightning speed again. I have no idea what her anime was about, but i almost didn't care either, except to wonder if Michael was familiar with it. Part of me thought it might be fun to introduce him to Allie, but part of me realized he'd probably never speak to me again if I did. Allie was almost as bad as Kaycee.

"We should probably go find our seats, right?" Angela asked, not caring that she had just interrupted Allie.

"I couldn't find Nicola, so we should probably find her, too."

"All right." Angela pulled me away from the conversation. "See you later, Allie!" The girl looked momentarily disappointed, but quickly shrugged and went to find others to talk to.

We found Nicola already in the theater waiting for us.

The performance started shortly after we took our seats, and we all watched in awe at the sheer excellence demonstrated by our teachers. Even Ms. Aeling did a modern dance that was so primal I wanted to take modern class from her when I had the elective period for it.

My father's solo just after the intermission was particularly stirring. It reminded me of all those times he played for me when I was a small child, before he started going on tour. I drew my legs up under me and listened raptly. I didn't realize it before now, but I had really missed this part of my relationship with my father. I closed my eyes and remembered sitting in my bed, my mother sitting beside me with her arm wrapped around me, both of us listening to my father play everything from lullabies to nursery rhymes to the occasional bit of a concerto. I'd fallen asleep to so many of them.

Before I realized it, Angela was shaking my arm. "Hey, are you awake over there?'

"Hmm," I'd nearly fallen asleep, "I'm fine."

My father only played in one other piece the entire night. The finale brought the entire faculty together in what was truly a show-stopping number that brought the audience to its feet.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this proud of my father.

==

Before the excitement from Under the Stars had even began to settle, something else stirred up the student body. I walked into Broughton with my father and was overwhelmed by the feeling I'd walked into Barbie's Dream School. Pink and red posters covered most of the department bulletin boards advertising all sorts of things, namely flowers, a court, and a ball.

"That looks like fun," my father stopped to read one of the posters. "Maybe you can go with your friends."

I read over some of the posters, amazed that Angela hadn't mentioned Valentine's Day at Broughton to me at all. She'd done such a great job of keeping me up to date until now.

I marched into social studies where Angela was reviewing her notes, and demanded to know why I was out of the loop. "Oops, sorry, Lindy! I've had other things on my mind."

"Is there anything else I need to know?" I was a bit perturbed.

"Yes, buy flowers today."

"Flowers?" I vaguely remembered reading a poster about flowers.

"You get them for...well...whoever you want. I think the Drama Queens are selling them at lunch. We'll go buy ours together."

"Sounds like a plan!"

==

At lunch, the Drama Queens weren't hard to find at all. Students were lined up clear out the cafeteria door, all waiting to buy carnations to be delivered on Valentine's Day. The proceeds were going to an organization that promoted the performing arts in the local and surrounding communities. I got two pink carnations, one for Angela and one for Nicola. They'd become my lifeline at Broughton, and I couldn't imagine my life without either one of them.

The next day, the Drama Queens were selling tickets to the Valentine Ball, the proceeds from which also benefitted the same organization. Broughton really knew how to celebrate the holidays.

"Should we take care of that today?" I asked as Angela nearly ignored the table.

"Nope. We make plans and then worry about it. They'll be selling the tickets the rest of the week."

Everyone was sitting at the table for a change, so it was the perfect time to decide if we wanted to go as one big group or not. There were some murmurs, and by the end of lunch, we really hadn't reached a consensus.

In technical theater class, Michael barely looked at me, but he had this tiny impish grin on his face that made him unreadable. The class had finally moved on to creating the costumes we couldn't find suitable options for in the collection, so he and I were working on pinning and cutting pattern pieces. It was long, tedious work, made even longer because I couldn't get Michael to tell me what was going on in his head. At the end of class, he vanished quickly, and I was almost grateful.

I carefully put away the pins and scissors we'd been using before neatly stacking the cut pieces and carrying them into the sewing room. Joe was standing in the hall when I walked out, headed back to where Michael and I had been working to grab my backpack.

"How's it going, Lindy?" He had a bashful smile that partnered his best friend's goofy grin a little too well.

"Fine, I guess. Michael's being weird, but I guess that's fairly normal."

Joe laughed. "He gets like that when he's nervous."

"What's he nervous about now?" I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and we headed out of the theater.

"Well," Joe seemed to be the nervous one, "he wants to ask a girl to the Valentine Ball, but he's terrified she'll say no."

"I can't imagine anyone rejecting Michael. To listen to everyone talk, he's practically Broughton royalty."

"Good. So, you'll go with him?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, "What?"

"He's hoping you'll go with him, but you've become like a little sister to him, so it would kill him if you turned him down." Joe was still walking, but his pace had slowed a bit.

"Michael...wants to take me to the Ball?" My backpack started sliding down my shoulder as I stood there in shock.

"Yes, so will you do it?"

"Ummm....sure. Why not? It's not like I had any other plans."

Joe spun around, his grin had widened to a full smile. "Great! He'll be so excited!"

Spending the Valentine Ball with Michael Brown. That was bound to bring at least one Duck to our table Saturday night.

==

I was still in shock the next day. The freshman dance class was working on getting the ballet piece down for the recital, but I had no memory of either class or rehearsal.

When I got to lunch, Michael and Joe were both already sitting there, both smirking. Angela and Miguel were also sitting together. I took the open seat between Miguel and Michael, and Nicola wasn't too far behind me as she took the seat between Joe and Angela.

"So, great news, everyone. Michael managed to ask a girl to the Ball." Joe elbowed his best friend.

"If you call sending someone else to ask her 'managing to ask a girl to the ball'," Nicola retorted. "He's lucky Lindy said yes." Michael blushed at the accusation.

"Speaking of that," Miguel turned to Angela, "Are we on for Saturday night?"

She nearly punched his arm, "If you hadn't asked me, I'd have asked you!" She then turned and winked at me.

Joe looked around the table, "So, Nicola, since everyone else seems to be-"

"Don't even think about, Joe Langford. I wouldn't go to the ball with you if you were the last man on earth." Everyone looked at her in shock.

He didn't even seem fazed. "I expected you would turn me down."

"Sorry, Joe." Despite her tone, the apology sounded sincere.

We spent the rest of lunch solidifying our plans for the weekend, and then headed our different directions to class.

==

I felt so badly. I bought cheery pink plowers for my girlfriends, but I'd completely forgotten the guys, who were kind enough to not forget about me. Each flower came with a very sweet card, Miguel and Michael both thanking me for being myself and for being their friend; Joe's had a beautiful poem written on it, thanking me for letting him into my talented little world. Angela and Nicola both sent me white carnations with cute, but sill cards attached.

I'm not sure I would have been quite so well friended if I'd successfully talked my way out of Broughton and into the local public school.

As I placed my small bouquet of carnations into my backpack so the flowers stuck out of it, I noticed Yolanda glaring at me. She hadn't received a single carnation, not even from her Ducks. It was surprising. I thought those two at the very least would have sent her carnations, but she apparently hadn't made any friends, even within her small circle of flunkies.

I looked at my flowers again, and felt very blessed. I came to Broughton with nothing, nobody, and now I was burdened with a fun, loyal band of friends. I was pretty sure I'd never felt so warm with my friends in middle school or at soccer.

Being forced to attend Broughton had definitely had its perks!

==

The Valentine Ball was held in the cafeteria like the Halloween Ball had been. Gorgeous rose boughs created arches along the walls, and small pink and ivory rose bouquets surrounded by votives decorated each table. It was beautiful and almost had a romantic feel to it. It almost made me regret coming with Michael, who was being his usual perfect gentleman self.

The group quickly clustered around a table. "Has anybody seen Joe?" Nicola asked, looking around the room.

"He's probably hiding from his date," Michael got my chair for me and then seated himself next to me. "The only girl who said yes was a chatty freshman, and she drove him up the wall on the way over here."

I'd come with Angela and Miguel, but I could only guess who Michael was describing. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Kaycee bounded up to our table, "Joe isn't here?"

"He probably stepped outside for some air," Michael replied politely. Kaycee blushed furiously at being spoken to by her hero, and bounded away.

"Is he really?" Angela asked, stifling a laugh.

"I have no idea where he is, but if I were him, that's where I'd be."

"Why didn't he just come alone?" Nicola asked disdainfully. She was alone for the evening by choice, and I envied her for it almost as much as I felt sorry for Joe for being stuck with Kaycee for the evening.

"You know Joe. He feels he has some sort of reputation to uphold." Nicola snorted at that, and I had to swallow my laugh. As far as Nicola was concerned, Joe's reputation for chasing pretty girls was completely obnoxious, and had cost him any respect she might otherwise have had for him. I was pretty sure that was why she had turned him down flat when he asked her to the ball.

Miguel stood, pulling Angela to her feet, "Let's go dance." I smiled as I watched them leave. Only a few months ago, she'd been afraid Miguel was some loser freshman. Now, I think she was secretly planning to ask him out.

"That's a great idea." Michael stood beside me and bowed. "May I have this dance?"

I blushed at his formality. "Sure. I'd love to."

Fortuantely, Michael was great at ballroom dancing, and didn't complain when I didn't catch on quickly enough. But soon, we were having fun.

When we got tired, we sat back down. Joe had finally joined our table, and he was watching the room carefully while Nicola played with her napkin. Michael watched her for a moment, "Joe, why don't you ask Nicola to dance?"

Nicola wrinkled her nose at the idea, but Joe quickly dismissed the idea. "If I go out on the dance floor, Kaycee will find me very quickly and make me dance with her."

"It's not dancing with Kaycee you're afraid of," Michael pointed out. Joe smirked. "But if you won't, then I will. Do you mind, Lindy?" I shook my head, excited to see someone pull Nicola onto the dance floor. "Then, Nicola?" He held out his hand, which she took warily.

I watched them out on the dance floor. They were perfect together. It seemed a shame he'd asked me instead of her, but I knew he also really didn't know her well. As near as I could tell, he'd only asked me because we'd become friends.

"What's the matter, princess? Get ditched?" Joe and I both looked to Nicola's empty chair, only to find Yoli standing behind it.

"What do you want?" Joe hissed.

"I just think it's funny Lindy's date is out dancing with someone else."

"Michael just asked Nicola to dance. It's no big deal." I didn't understand what her problem was.

"Lindy knows. She told him she didn't mind, and she honestly doesn't." Joe stood, his tall frame dwarfing Yoli in an almost intimidating manner. "And if I asked Lindy to dance, she'd accept, and Michael wouldn't worry about that. That's the nice part about being friends."

She nearly growled at the insinuation before addressing me again. "Don't think this is over."

"Great. Think what is over?" I asked the air as she stomped away from her table and back to the table she, Sasha, and Kat were sitting at, clearly without dates.

Joe sat back down. "I really feel sorry for Kat."

"Why is that?"

"One of the junior dance students asked her to the ball, and Yolanda made her turn the guy down." He was folding his napkin into interesting shapes, none of them holding.

"That's terrible." I looked back toward the table. Yoli and Sasha looked as angry as ever, but Kat did look sad. I couldn't imagine why she remained friends with the Ducks.

"She apparently has a pretty big crush on the guy, too." Joe was now looking pointedly at me. He looked at his napkin creation for a moment, and then set it down. "I'm tired fo sitting here. Would you like to dance?"

I'm certain my eyes lit up. "I'd love to! But aren't you afraid of being seen by Kaycee?"

"If she sees me, then she'll simply have to wait for me to finish my dance." He offered me his arm, and we walked out to the dance floor. The whole time we were dancing, I knew my feet never touched the floor.

Kaycee found us as we were headed back to the table and Joe slowly released my arm to put a hand on Kaycee's back and push her toward our table. I seated myself next to Michael, who whispered, "Have fun?" I nodded, and he smiled before grimacing as Kaycee realized he was sitting at the table and started squealing.

None of us knew a quiet moment the rest of the night.

==

In the whirlwind that was February, my only reminder of the upcoming Spring Gala was my technical theater class. As usual, Michael and I watched as Miguel adjusted his costume sketches to match what the team was able to produce, and then adjust the costumes to better match the requests from the dance and drama departments. His designs were so incredible; it made me sad that I wasn't dancing in the Gala. I wouldn't get to wear one of Miguel's creations.

By the time Stage Week hit, Michael was gone, leaving Miguel and me to make sure the costumes were finished and met the needs of their respective departments. The freshmen on the costume team were also left in charge of making sure each costume got to its appropriate dressing room, which meant that Miguel and I together had to keep track of all the costumes.

I had to learn how to tack to help the older students finish embellishing the costumes and to repair any costume ripped during rehearsal. They would have taught me how to use the sewing machine, but I was so afraid of catching my finger in the needle that they felt it was best to just leave me to the smaller projects. I spent most of class tacking costumes together and adding beads and sequins. It was so tedious that I thought I would go out of my mind, but Miguel was trying to help sew on sequins, too. He made jokes while we worked, and it made the time pass more quickly.

It was even better when we had to work while the various groups did their technical and dress rehearsals. We were allowed to sit in the audience to work on sewing on more beads and sequins. The light was poor, but it was enough and I soon found myself relaxing into my work. There was just something about listening to what was going on up on the stage while doing rhythmic, routine work.

I was finishing tacking a rather large jewel onto one of the drama costumes when my cell phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. I jumped, knocking over a container of beads, and pulled out my phone, apologizing to Miguel who was already scrambling to rescue the tiny jewels. Michael had been texting me for two days straight, usually to tell me how things were going. This time, he asked how things were going at Broughton. I texted him back, informing him that he had just made my workload a nightmare. He immediately responded with an apology and a smiley face, and I let him know it was fine. Truth be told, in the time it took me to finish my conversation with Michael, Miguel had corralled most of the beads. I helped him sort out the last few handfuls back into their right bins. We finished tacking on all of the beads and sequins, and carried everything backstage.

I checked off the costumes I had finished and headed off for the dressing rooms. Joe was sitting in the stairs that led to the house, playing with his cell phone, when I came back through to get the rest of the bead containers. I sat down next to him. Since Michael left, we'd spent a lot of our free time together. "What are you doing?"

"Reminding Michael he'll be back soon enough," Joe was furiously tapping away at his phone's small keyboard.

"Again?" Michael had been emailing and texting Joe and me in his free time. Mostly, it was only about how much fun he was having and glad he was to have this opportunity. He was even teloling us who he was working with. I'd never seen Michael quite so excited and chatty.

That morning, though, his messages to Joe had started changing. "Yeah, He misses the familiar faces."

"Yeah, I can see how a guy like Michael would want familiarity." I told Joe about my text conversation with Michael.

"It's funny. He's still the guy who'd just as soon shut himself up in his room until he has to rehearse or be on stage. But there are days when I think he's actually starting to figure out how to be a part of the human race."

Nicola walked up and seated herself on the other side of Joe. "Michael Brown is human? Someone, alert the media."

"I don't think he's human yet. But I think he's got the potential." Joe's phone rang, and he looked at the message.

"I wouldn't mind seeing Michael the Human. I was positive he was a well-designed robot," Nicola looked over Joe's shoulder, trying to read the message.

"Yeah, but he's my well-designed robot," Joe said defensively, snatching the phone away.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I like Michael. It's just hard to remember sometimes that he's a kid like us." She sighed. "Anyway, I really just came to find out what you're doing after you're done here, Lindy."

"Oh, I really hadn't thought about it yet." Somehow, I'd just assumed I'd go home. Dad was waiting for me to finish my crew work.

"Yeah, we ought to go do something," Joe's eyes were still glued to his phone.

"Well, let me know. Because otherwise, you're coming out with Angela and me. You're welcome to come, too, Joe." With that, Nicola excused herself and returned to the backstage.

I watched her go and wondered what they had planned. It was already fairly late, but it wasn't like any of us had anywhere to be in the morning.

==

It turned out Nicola's plans for our evening weren't too intensive. We gathered at Angela's house to watch a couple of dance movies. The first was about a girl who really wanted to become a professional dancer, but wasn't any good at it. It kind of reminded of Yoli in a way, except the main character didn't have an exceptionally large chip on her shoulder. The second was a somewhat lame documentary on a ballet production being put together. Nicola watched it raptly. Joe fell asleep just a few minutes in.

It was the nice, quiet kind of evening I really needed, even though I didn't realize how stressed I felt between classes, rehearsal, and the Spring Gala. Before the documentary was even halfway through, I rested my head on Joe's shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

==

The second week of March found Miguel and me sitting on opposite sides of the backstage area, each armed with repair kits in case anyone needed a last-minute repair. We had some of the best seats in the house.

Every single performance went off beautifully. This week was what Broughton was all about, creating people who could perform under pressure, who could dazzle an audience to their feet. I'd never been happier to be a Broughton student, and actually regretted that I hadn't been cast in the Spring Gala. I wanted to be part of the excitement as something other than a member of the stage crew.

Something was clearly wrong with me.

After the dance department's performance in the middle of the week, Miguel and I helped clean up the backstage. I helped pack up props from both the dance and drama departments and set the boxes near the loading dock doors they could be moved back to the drama department's storage area. It never ceased to amaze me how much work went into putting on a performance, or how much work went into striking a performance when it was finished.

I had just moved the last box over to the loading door when I heard a shriek coming from the audience. I ran onto the stage, Miguel running on from the other side. We both looked out into the audience.

Nicola was sitting in one of the aisles watching the crew work to break down the stage, a pink stargazer lily in front of her face. She and I both looked at the flower's wielder at the same time.

"Michael!" Nicola jumped to her feet and accepted the lily.

"You looked great up there." He smiled bashfully.

I nearly tackled him when I got to them. "You're home early!"

"I am home early," he agreed. "We didn't actually know how long it would take, but I'm glad I'm home in time to see part of the Gala."

"Does anyone else know you're back?"

Michael pointed toward the lobby, "Just my ride." Joe stood in the doorway and waved at us. "We have to get going, but we'll see you guys later?"

"Yes, I think we're meeting at the coffee house as soon as Lindy and Miguel are through here," Nicola nodded.

"Great, we'll be there." He ran up the aisle to Joe. We saw him mumble something, and Joe nodded. The door swung shut behind them as they left.

Miguel was just wrapping up helping the sets crew stow the flats from the dance performance when I ran backstage to grab my belongings. "You ready to go."

"Yes. Was that Michael?"

"Yes, and he and Joe are meeting us at the coffeehouse. Let's go!"

==

When we walked into the coffeehouse, Angela was beside herself with glee, "Look who's home!"

"Yes, we saw him at the theater." Nicola twirled the stargazer lily in her hand before setting it on the table. Miguel quickly slid onto the stool next to Angela. I went to sit next to Joe, but he moved over a seat and placed me between Michael and himself. I looked at him questioningly, but he pulled me onto the cleared stool.

"Trust me," he whispered. I let my backpack slide to the ground, and let Joe take my coat.

Everyone wanted to know how Michael's week had been, but Joe and I had been talking to him all week, so we sat there quietly drinking our lattes. Michael was unusually animated as he told everybody about his job.

"Honestly, though, I'm really just glad to be home."

"The choir is performing tomorrow night. The pieces aren't too hard. You could probably sneak right in if you wanted."

Michael smiled appreciatively at the suggestion. "I think I'm going to enjoy just being in the audience this time around."

"Had enough?" Joe asked.

"At the moment, yeah."

The rest of the evening was spent in leisurely conversations. To outsiders, we would have looked just like any other group of teenagers. It was a brief moment that resembled a normal life.

==

With the Spring Gala over and no other performances outside of the Seniors' Performance and the End of the Year Recital, dance class kicked into high gear. During freshman class, we were learning the tap piece, which I kept having trouble with. Nicola and Angela tried to help me with it when our schedules allowed us to get together, but tap just wasn't my strong suit. Rehearsal period was spent learning the jazz number.

It was obvious very quickly that I was the only person in class with limited experience in both tap and jazz, and Ms. Aeling came down hard on me for it. To make matters worse, Yoli was a natural at jazz, and she flaunted that fact every chance she got. Ms. Aeling frequently praised her and asked us to look to her to see how we should be dancing the piece.

I was still trying to figure out how to not be self-conscious about the moves we were doing. I didn't really want to look at Yoli, or just like her.

One afternoon while working with Nicola, I got so frustrated that i just sat down. "Why am I bothering? It's not like I'm going to be anywhere near as good as my classmates, even if I rehearse every free moment of the day."

Nicola sat down, looking sympathetic for the first time since I met her, "You're going to be just fine. Whether you understand this or not, Lindy, you are actually one of the best dancers in the freshman class. I've noticed it. Angela has noticed it. When Ms. Lemert works with the freshman class, I'm sure she'll see it, too. I'd be very surprised if you don't make Belles next year."

"What's Belles?"

"The closest thing Broughton has to a dance company. They're the most talented dancers at Broughton."

"Are you a Belle?"

"I am," she smiled. "I was the second freshman ever admitted into the Belles. Angela is an alternate."

"When do you rehearse?"

"We have our own class period, and then Ms. Lemert assigns outside rehearsals as we need them."

"What makes you think I'd ever be qualified to be in this group if it's the most talented students in the dance program."

Nicola smiled at my question. "Because you belong with them, Lindy. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but I stand by what I said. You have within you the potential to dance around your classmates, and I hope you realize that soon. It will help you be more confident in your dancing."

By the end of the week, Ms. Aeling had set rehearsals during lunch and after school. If she could have done it, I knew she'd have put them on the weekends, too.

Fortunately, some things were still sacred at Broughton.

==

The last weekend of March, Miguel invited me to an exhibition at Milhouse. It was to Milhouse what the Spring Gala was to Broughton. I'd only seen what was hanging in the coffee shop at First Fridays, and was excited to have an opportunity to see what other kinds of work the students did.

There was simply no way to prepare for what awaited me at Milhouse. It was like walking into an art museum, only the hallways of Milhouse seemed warner as ensconced wall lights glowed against wood-paneled walls. Sculptures in clay, wire, and all sorts of odd things were grouped in the more open areas of the school. The walls were covered in paintings, collages, and pieces I could only describe as experiments in how to apply something to canvas.

It was amazing.

Miguel and I completed a tour of the animation hallway, where flat screened monitors hung on the wall and ran students' work in cycles, and ran into Nicola and Angela. The four of us linked together and set off in search of every sculpture on the campus.

Surprisingly, we found Michael staring at a mobile hung above a cluster of sculptures at the far end of the school. It wasn't hard to see what had caught his attention. The artist had recycled a variety of odd food containers into a very clear reminder why recycling messages needed to be somewhat aesthetic. We all quickly averted our eyes to the sculptures in the area, only to find Joe hiding behind one clay sculpture that looked like rushing water.

"I'm glad everyone is here tonight," Miguel led us toward a hallway full of pencil compositions, some of which had staging sketches next to them to show how the final piece had developed. Miguel rarely expressed an interest in our little accidental clique, so we all looked at him in disbelief. He stopped next to a particularly engaging pencil drawing of a mariachi player. "I have an announcement. I was accepted to Milhouse for next year."

I'm not sure who squealed first between Angela and me, but Michael clasped Miguel's shoulder, "Congratulations, man! You deserve it!"

Angela hugged him, "I'm not sure I'm going to be okay with not seeing you every day." Miguel blushed in a shade that competed with the deep maroon of the mariachi's outfit.

It was wonderful news. Miguel was going to be attending the school he truly belonged in, and he got to tell us while we were at Milhouse! I had to agree with Angela, though. Broughton wouldn't be the same without him. Technical theater classes would be very boring without his stellar designs. Somebody else would be designing for Broughton next year, and I knew that they wouldn't have a hope of producing anything as gorgeous as what Miguel had designed over the last several months. I fought back my selfish tears and hugged him.

Michael was right: Miguel deserved his overdue appointment to Milhouse.

We walked through the rest of the exhibition together. Miguel took Angela by the hand and led us through a tour of both Milhouse and the show. Nicola was doing her best to keep up with them. I walked between Joe and Michael, admiring everything. Everything was so wonderful, and yet I was still very sad. I knew that I was running out of time to just be with my friends like this. Next year would be different.