It Had to Be You

four

I'm really, really not fond of this new arrangement.

Adrian arrived on time today, sitting with perfect posture on the piano bench that should be hosting Mr. Lee. He's sorting through his sheet music, running his fingers over the keys but not pushing them, like he's ingraining the movements into memory.

West stands behind me on the stage, flipping through his script while he waits to run through his scenes. For now, Schneider divides the days by numbers, allowing those with other priorities—like West and soccer—to attend them. When show week grows closer, they'll need to come everyday, but Schneider lets it slide or else she'd probably be left with a handful of cast members.

I grow antsy from my place on the floor where I'm running through formations with Hadley. West centered rehearsals means Start the Party, and I know I'm supposed to look confused in the number, but it won't look so great that I'm actually confused. As much as I try to push them down, Mom's words ring through my head like an annoying melody.

"Schneider," I call out as she brushes by. She comes to a stop, pivoting around with wide eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she points toward a row of seats that's far enough away from where others are sitting. "I've actually been wanting to speak with you. Some reason I couldn't find you."

"I've been here the whole time." I say, standing up and following her down the aisle. I keep my head straight as I pass Adrian.

"When everyone is sitting down and scattered, all your heads look the same." she explains, taking a seat. I sit beside her. "Why don't you start."

"Why Adrian?" I ask, the words fumbling past my lips. "He doesn't know anything about the theater or what all it takes to put on a show. Also, he's graduating this year, so you'll have to find a new pianist anyways. What gives?"

Schneider sighs, as though she was waiting for me to ask that question. "Like I told you yesterday, I heard he's one of the best. Sure, he's messed up a few times and is new to all this, but he's, really, all I've got. And it buys me time to find a real replacement, and establish a written contract that prevents us from being in this position ever again. Besides, he seems like a good kid."

If only she knew where he spent the night. The omission is on the tip of my tongue, knowing that that would be enough to have Schneider send him packing. But at what cost? We'd still be down a pianist, and if Schneider really can't find anyone else at the last minute, we'd be forced to shut it all down. And then the Juilliard scouts won't get a chance to see me perform before applications are due. Just what mom wants.

No. I'm not going to tell Schneider ... but I won't let him know that. It might be the only leverage I have for him to not mess this up for me.

Schneider continues when I don't say anything. "I'm going to tell you the same shit I told Kylie yesterday. This shit happens in show business and you're just gonna have to deal with it. Based on that question and your reaction to seeing him yesterday, I can tell you don't like him. I don't know what your business is with that boy, and I don't care—leave it at the door. I already have one lead making heart eyes at him, and I don't need my other trying to put him six feet under. He's working as your pianist, Norah, and if you can't find it in you to work civilly with him, you'll not only tank this production, but also any chance at a respectable career.

"Now, honey, I don't want to scare you. This isn't exactly how I wanted this conversation to go. I've noticed you've looked a little glum today. Just wanted to make sure everything's all right?"

That's one of the things that makes Carrie Schneider so terrifying, but it's also one of the reasons I respect her as much as I do. Her warm, comforting hand on my arm has me confessing to her what I hadn't even told Caroline or Ellie today at school. "My mom brought up me quitting the musical again at dinner."