All the Way by Megan Stine Page A

stuff I can get.”
    That sounded kind of crass. I tilted my head, waiting for him to explain.
    â€œJelinek is one of those boy wonders—a real phenom,” Tyler said. “Once Mr. Nadar heard him play, he wasn’t going to give me anything good to do. It’s okay, though. Piano’s not really my thing. This is.” He nodded toward the stage.
    â€œYeah, you were amazing at the auditions,” I said, with a note of I-wish-I-were-your-costar creeping into my voice.
    â€œAre we still on for the American Superstar trip?” he asked.
    â€œDefinitely!” I’d almost forgotten about it, after that e-mail last night.
    â€œGood. We should do something this weekend,” he said.
    â€œYeah.” I nodded, but Tyler was slightly distracted. Natalie was walking toward us, someone else had called his name, and now Natalie was dumping her backpack into a seat next to the one where Tyler’s jacket and books were piled up.
    â€œI’ve got to rehearse,” he said, reaching for his script. “Talk to you later, okay?”
    â€œSorry!” Natalie said in a totally phony, singsong voice, shooting me a triumphant smile. Like every time she took him away from me, she felt like she was racking up points.
    She picked up her script and then linked one arm through Tyler’s, dragging him away. “So, Sky,” she said, calling him by his character’s name, “how are you going to seduce the pure, sweet, innocent Sarah Brown today?”
    Tyler looked over his shoulder at me and shrugged helplessly. “Catch you later,” he called.
    Yeah .
    I was tempted to skip out of the rest of rehearsal. There wasn’t really anything for me to do, and why stick around torturing myself, watching them play a love scene? But Emily showed up right then, all excited and glowing.
    â€œCome see the stuff I found!” she said, motioning toward the backstage area.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI went through my grandmother’s attic, and it was amazing! She has all kinds of stuff we can use for props: a really cool old telephone, some wicked old shoes, and a 1950s vintage beach umbrella for the scene where they go to Havana.”
    â€œWow.” All at once, I was beginning to worry that I was slacking off. I’d been so wrapped up in the Hot Box photo and Joey’s stupid rumors about me, I hadn’t really been focusing on the costumes at all. “I’ve got to get busy,” I mumbled, deciding right then and there that I’d schedule a trip to the costume house for tomorrow.
    We tiptoed up the steps to the backstage area while Natalie and Tyler were downstage left, working on the scene where they first meet. From behind the curtains backstage, we had a perfect view. I stopped to stare at them.
    Natalie had her long, wavy black hair tied up on top of her head, leaving Tyler with a good view of her creamy skin and elegant, long neck. I couldn’t tell whether he was taking the bait, but she was definitely working it.
    Emily stared at Natalie, too.
    â€œShe’s so pretty,” Emily muttered.
    â€œYou’re just as pretty,” I said quietly but firmly. “You just need to juice up your look a little more. Dress a little hotter, you know?”
    â€œYou mean . . . dress more like you?” Emily asked cautiously.
    I glanced down at what I had thrown on that morning: a fabulous, tight pair of kick-ass jeans with a boot cut, tall black boots that made me look like less of a shrimp than I really am, a black leather belt with silver studs, slung low around my hips, and a skimpy, midriff-exposing, swirly printed pink and orange tank top layered under a cute, short, hot-orange cardigan sweater.
    Okay, I lied about throwing it together. I’d worked hard to pick out that outfit, and it totally rocked.
    â€œYeah,” I said, before I realized what she was really saying. “Dress a little more out there. Like me, I