Joan the Made (Throwbacks Series, Book 1)

Chapter 25

After the day's classes are finished, I go straight back to my dorm room. I need to know my lines cold before Blake's next rehearsal. I'll be damned if I let Nic find another excuse to have me kicked off this assignment.

Sparkle is in our room, her slim legs propped against the wall. It's unusual to see her at this time of day. Usually, she disappears and is gone so late that I'm asleep when she returns. Her beauty is incomparable, as usual, but her hair is a little limp, and her skin doesn't glow the way it did when I first met her.

"Hey, roomie," I say, and her eyes meet mine.

"Didn't think you'd be back yet," she mumbles.

"I'm glad you're here. I could use help with my acting, and you're the best actress I know."

Sparkle's posture subtly straightens. "Are you kissing my ass?"

"Why would I do that? This is purely selfish. I need help. Humility and all that."

Sparkle releases a surprised bark of laughter. It's good to hear that sound. Even if we aren't close, it's hard to see her upset and be unable to help.

"The acting I might be able to help with," Sparkle says. "The humility is a lost cause."

It's my turn to laugh. "You're right. It's like getting blood from a stone."

"You're lucky," Sparkle says. "When you try, you're a good actress. But when you get distracted, it shows. You're smart, and I know there're a lot of things you'd rather be thinking about than whatever acting lesson we're learning."

I'm surprised by Sparkle's insight. She's been watching me.

"How do you focus? Surely you must get bored with this crap sometimes, too."

"I make it not boring by reliving the best and worst moments of my life through acting. How can I be distracted when I'm reliving the time I won the dance competition in third grade, in order to embody childlike glee? What could possibly steal my attention when I remember my sisters' faces on the nights there was no dinner, in order to embody sorrow and shame?"

"Why shame?" I ask quietly.

"See? You're getting distracted," she replies instead of answering my question. "Let's try an easy emotion. Rage."

I take a breath and try to follow Sparkle's advice. An image of Officer Boer on the night of the raid with his hands all over Sparkle comes to mind.

"Yes!" Sparkle says, breaking me out of my memory.

My hands are clenched into tight fists, and my cheeks are flushed.

"Just as important, now you have to let that emotion go. That's the hard part," Sparkle says.

She's right. I take a slow, deep breath and count to ten, but leftover rage simmers in my veins.

"You're good at this," I say to Sparkle. "You're going to be one of the actresses who makes it."

My words don't have their intended effect. Instead of smiling, Sparkle's face goes blank.

I lean forward and squeeze her shoulder, and she flinches away from my touch. "Tell me what's going on with you. I can help."

"You'd only make it worse," Sparkle says, her voice rough.

"Let me—"

"You can thank me for helping you by leaving me alone," Sparkle snaps.

I concentrate on memorizing my lines, which doesn't require much effort. Once I have them down, I sneak a glance at Sparkle. She's asleep in her chair, but the worried wrinkle between her eyes is still there. What's torturing her so much that she can't even escape it when she sleeps?