Page 26 of Prince of the Palisades

Inside the auditorium, people are scattered among the red velour seats, either on their phones or chatting softly. The upper deck is blocked off. So are the first ten rows closest to the stage. I find a center seat in an empty row near the back. Ajani sits behind me.

I drum my hands on my thighs while waiting. I’m not nervous. Bored, really. Ajani’s not a woman of many words. Whenever I’m trapped doing royal activities, she’s usually reading books on her phone.

Horror is her favorite. I only know that from sneaking looks at her screen. She’d never volunteer that kind of information.

I sigh, staring at the stage.

“It’s so you get that Broadway experience of auditioning under the spotlight,” a voice says to my left. Someone drops down next to me. A lanky boy with swoopy dark hair and fair reddish-brown skin. “Doc Garza Villa is very professionalabout auditions. No competition front and center, trying to throw you off your game. They want the best version of you up there.”

I study him. His face is all striking angles. I’ve seen him before. Did we meet at the party? One of my classes?

As if reading my mind, he says, “Karan Sharma. No relation.”

“No relation to who?”

“The actor. Or theotheractor. The cricket dude. Actually…I think there’s two cricket guys. Can’t keep track.” He shrugs. “Anyway, you’re the prince, right?”

I nod slowly.

“Figured,” Karan says. “You’re the only one sitting with a bodyguard, so.” He inclines his head, lowering his voice. “No offense, but she could step on me, and I wouldn’t complain.”

My brows pinch together. “What the f—”

Applause cuts off my last word. On stage, Dr. Garza Villa, the drama instructor, is flanked by another faculty adviser along with Dustin, the student director advertised online. Dustin’s cute in a shy way, fidgeting with his clipboard, stage lights shining on his black curls.

Dr. Garza Villa gives a breakdown of the process. Students can audition using whatever character they choose. But no roles are guaranteed. Every spot is up for grabs, no matter the script’s gender specification.

Halfway through the explanation, Karan whispers, “Nervous?”

I wait for a beat. “No.”

“Me neither. Which role are you after?”

I sit up, eyes forward. “Shouldn’t we be listening?”

“Nah. It’s the same every year.” He clearly doesn’t get the hint that I’m uninterested in chatting, because he keeps going. “I’m aiming for Wadsworth. TherealMr. Boddy. I’m ready to headline a show.” He spreads his hands over his head like he’s unveiling a glowing marquee.

CLUE!…Starring Karan Whats­his­last­name­again?

In a deep, nervy voice, Dustin calls the first student to the stage.

“Thing is, I’m a little bit of a triple threat,” Karan says in a voice more on the self-deprecating side than egotistical. “I can act, sing, and dance.”

I raise both eyebrows.

“I know how it looks. This brown boy who’s all bones and sick hair can move better than Shakira?” He does a small shimmy in his seat. “These hips don’t lie, bro.”

“Good for you?”

“Last spring, we didA Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Karan says, slouching. “I rocked Theseus. Standing ovation material.”

“I’m…sure,” I say quietly.

“I wanted Puck. The true star,” Karan continues. “My parents dream of me being an engineer. Like them. But I swear, if they see me headlining a show, they’ll finally believethisis what I’m meant to do.” His eyes brighten. “This is my year.”

I mimic his posture in my own seat. He didMidsummer, like Mom. And he seems genuine, unlike half the other people I’ve met so far.

“I’m going for Wadsworth too,” I admit.

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