Frost by Wendy Delsol

sure it was
Cats
I saw in London. It might have been
Phantom.
Or
Lion King.
I’ve seen so many shows in my travels. But I’m rambling. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get something from my room before we start back up.”
    Brigid turned to Penny. “You show much promise. Are you going for a lead?”
    “Yes,” Penny said, pinking with the attention.
    “Good. Very good,” Brigid said, walking off.
    “That’s Brigid,” Penny said.
    “Yes,” I groaned.
    “Jack’s Brigid?”
    I didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. Not even from Penny, who I knew meant nothing by it. “She’s hardly Jack’s.”
    “I didn’t mean
that.
It’s more that . . . You described her . . . but I didn’t believe . . . I mean, she’s . . .”
    It wasn’t like Penny to gum up like that, not with me, anyway. But she didn’t like to come right out and trash people, either.
    “Amazing,” Penny finished.
    It was my turn to be dumbstruck. All I could think was,
Et tu, Brute?
Instead, I swallowed that and about three other wisecracks and wished Penny one last good luck. I exited the back-of-the-house doors, barreling into Jack.
    “What are you doing?” I dropped my book bag onto the floor of the auditorium lobby and gave him a small shove to the chest. “You scared me to death.”
    “Sorry. I wanted to surprise you.”
    “You did.”
    He picked up my bag with one hand and took my hand with the other. “You did good.”
    “You were watching?” I groaned.
    “Through a crack in the door. I didn’t want to make you nervous.”
    “I blew the singing.”
    “But you nailed the dancing.”
    “How long have you had your nose in that crack?”
    “A while.”
    Excellent.
Because humiliation’s better when shared.
    “What’s up with Brigid judging?” I asked.
    “Can you believe she’s a stage star, too?”
    “Not really.”
    “Talk about multitalented.”
    I’d rather not talk about her, period. And I’d rather you didn’t, either.
    “And willing to mentor others,” he continued.
    I sighed, letting him finish his little fanboy outburst.
    “I mean, what doesn’t she do?” he asked.
    That very same question had my tongue curled tight. There were other puzzlers I swished back and forth, too. Who had time for all the studies and travels Brigid boasted of — plus a stage career? And there was another niggling uncertainty that wondered who Jack had come here to see.
    He took me by the hand into the charcoal of falling darkness. Detecting my shiver, he pulled me close. I turned back toward the building briefly, sending Penny warm thoughts.

Friday after school, Penny and I stood in front of a large corkboard propped up in the auditorium lobby.
    “You made Gerda, the little girl.” I clutched Penny’s arm and jumped up and down in celebration with her. “That’s the second-biggest role.”
    “And you got the ice fairy dance solo,” Penny squealed.
    A role I hadn’t known existed, never mind auditioned for, but now that I saw my name singled out — I was excited. Monique, no surprise, was the lead: the Snow Queen. Matthew, in an unexpected turn of events, was cast as Kay, the lead male, or boy, in this case.
    “This is going to be so much fun,” Penny said.
    “And work,” I said, stretching my mouth with a grimace. “How will you handle this, plus homework, plus editor in chief?”
    Penny clasped a hand to her mouth. “Shoot. Mr. Parks is interviewing us.”
    “When?”
    “Now,” she said, running off with the briefest of waves.
    I took two steps toward the exit when it hit me — the cap. Dang. I was not in the mood for scabies or a meeting. I set my book bag on the ground and began rummaging through it for an emergency head cover. As I stood back up —
    “Boo.” Jack grabbed my waist from behind.
    I swung at him with the fur-lined trapper hat — hard. “Are you stalking me?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “I thought you’d be at Walden.”
    “Stanley gave us the night off.”
    I wondered who the