Page 68 of Claim to Fame

“You took it home and put it back together with Elmer’s glue and Scotch tape. It was on my desk, whole, if a little worse for wear, in the morning. When I asked who had fixed it, you didn’t say a word. Stephanie was the one who told me it was you.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“You never did like to take credit for your accomplishments.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh. “That fox was a mess.”

“It was. But quite an impressive mess for a first grader, even if the tail was on upside down.”

“Mrs. White, with all due respect, what’s your point?”

“It’s okay to own your accomplishments, Ethan. You’re quite a good narrator.”

He winced. “Please, stop. I would really like to pretend you’ve never listened to a Slade Hardcastle book.”

Mrs. White sighed. “I never took you for a prude.” She turned to leave, but at the last moment, turned back. “You should be proud of your work, Ethan. Your parents and friends would be proud. And secrets have a way of coming out.”

Chapter Nineteen

“We have a small window to capitalize on the buzz aroundBridget Jones’ Musical,” Micah said through the phone.

Hannah sat on the back steps of Ethan’s house, watching a sparrow hop along the branch of a nearby tree as the sun set over the bay. She told herself that the jittery, brittle feeling beneath her skin was about the upcoming premiere and not the conversation about her next career move. Or the fact it had been a week since she’d sung a note outside of the shower and she wasn’t feeling the urge to hunt down the nearest piano in Aster Bay for a practice session.

Why wasn’t she dying to get back to work?

“I’ve had a few calls. There’s some interest in seeing you for the national tour ofLes Mis.”

The false brightness in Micah’s voice might as well have been a flashing neon sign:Danger Ahead; Incoming Fatphobia.

“What part?”

He hesitated. “Madame Thénardier.”

“Of course.” She pulled up a handful of grass and began methodically shredding each blade into smaller and smaller pieces. She would not think about the half-eaten pint of ice cream in the freezer in Ethan’s kitchen. “What else?”

“There’s an open call for Mrs. Potts, but—”

“Please at least tell me I’m too young for the Angela Lansbury roles, Micah.”

“You’re too young for the Angela Lansbury roles.” Her manager sighed. “If only there was another Bridget on the horizon.”

“No word on a tour?” she asked, but she already knew the answer.

The producers weren’t going to run a tour until after they’d milked every last drop out of the pro shot’s theatrical release. She switched the phone to speaker and began scrolling the take-out menu for the Pizza Stone. According to Sabrina and Kyla, the Pizza Stone had the best mozzarella sticks in town. She wondered if they’d deliver the one order by itself or if she’d need to add more to make it worth their while—maybe an order of garlic knots, too, or a slice of the turtle pie...

“There’s a regional theater in Chicago prepping forInto the Woods—”

“So my options are a thief, a talking tea pot, and a witch.”

Two orders of garlic knots. And onion rings.

“Why don’t you take some time to think about it? I’ll email over the songs they want on the self tapes. Just run them through, see how they feel.”

She sighed, nodding.

“Hannah?”

“I’m nodding.”

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