Page 78 of Prince of the Palisades

He hasn’t spoken to me since Grace’s party. Each time I mess up, he exhales noisily, smacking his script against his forehead. Professor Garza Villa hasn’t commented on the tension between us yet—too busy filling in for Calvin—but it’s coming. Their twitching right eye demands it.

We almost make it to the end of scene three when I crash into Lydia on the way to check on a potentially poisoned Mrs. Peacock.

“Cut!” Dustin screeches, crouching to put his head between his knees.

When I get to my feet, Dr. Garza Villa says, exasperated, “That’s it, people. We’re done! Go home. Cry on your TikToks. Think about your life choices before tomorrow’s rehearsal.”

Their sharp glare lands on me. “Jadon, a moment of your time. Over here.” They snap their fingers. “Ahora.”

Reluctantly, I follow. Mr. June’s sparkly heels clack as he leaves the stage. Behind the curtains, I catch Lo’s sad smile before they follow the tech crew out. Dustin’s gone too. Which means it’s just me and Dr. Garza Villa.

“I promise I can do this,” I blurt.

Lips a thin, deadly line, Dr. Garza Villa says, “When? When are you going to show me you can handle this?”

“Tomorrow,” I swear.

“Mmhmm.” Dr. Garza Villa raises a skeptical eyebrow,fixing the multicolored scarf keeping their cloud of dark hair off their forehead. “I saw your audition. Watched you in read-throughs. During blocking. You’re no Leslie Odom Jr. up here, but you have potential.”

My chest puffs with pride.

“Hold on,” they immediately say. “You have talent, but I can’t unlock it for you. Whatever’s holding you back, it’s time foryouto let it go. Ditch that anchor, sweetie. Let yourself fly.”

I laugh softly. I know I can act. All I do is put on a show—for the press, for dignitaries, for my peers. My life has always been a production. Problem is, I’ve never been the one directing it.

“I don’t want to fail anyone,” I confess.

“It’s a high school play, not the monarchy,” Dr. Garza Villa deadpans. “My advice: stop trying to be the Mr. Green you think everyone wants to see. Start being the Mr. Green you want us to see.”

I crack a smile. Okay, Dr. Garza Villa. Subliminal message received.

After they exit stage left, two girls appear. Nadia, who plays Yvette, and Mia, the Singing Telegram Girl. But I recognize them outside of the play too. Nadia’s in my Human Development class. Mia’s locker is three doors from mine, and she’s in the courtyard every morning, studying.

“We can run lines with you,” Nadia offers.

“We weren’t eavesdropping,” Mia promises, shyly tucking curly hair behind her ear.

“We get it,” Nadia says. “Last year, Mia didn’t get her lines right until tech week.”

After a quick elbow to Nadia’s side, Mia says, “We just want to help.”

I blink, surprised. Outside of interactions during rehearsals, we’ve never really talked. I go from the courtyard to classes to rehearsals. I’ve never gone out of my way to say anything to them. I haven’t done that for anyone at Willow Wood.

But here they are, warm smiles and scripts in hand, ready to help.

I want to ask,Why me?

Instead, I choke out, “Th-thanks.”

Nadia shrugs. “We’re in this together. Wanna meet tomorrow morning?”

“Sorry,” Mia says, frowning. “We’d start today, but I have music lessons.”

Before I can answer, Karan strolls onstage. “I can help him today.” His script has at least a dozen neon tabs between the pages. Perpetually prepared.

When I try to make eye contact, he pivots to Nadia and Mia. “In this together, right?”

They nod, then wave at me, disappearing down the stairs.

---