Page 31 of Act Three

Dean gave them a wave, and the girls in the group gave a chorus of “ooh”s.

“Where’s Brooke Hayes?” one boy asked, and I pretended I couldn’t see or hear him.

“I’m happy to take questions, but only if you raise your hand.”

The boy thrust his hand into the air. I turned to him and smiled.

“Yes?”

“Where’s Brooke Hayes?”

“Brooke had to go home,” Dean answered for me. “She was…” he looked at me as he searched for an age-appropriate way to say ‘batshit crazy’, “unwell. Kyla’s taken over her role.”

The boy looked annoyed.

“Brooke’s hotter than thisnobody.” He looked directly at me as he said it, and my mouth fell open. Where had he learned to speak like that? The kid must have been no older than ten, and he was already talking like a teenager. A rude one.

“Jeremy!” the taller teacher scolded. “Apologize to Miss Wright now.”

He glared at me defiantly for a moment, but after a brief stare-off, lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. I was happy enough with that, but Dean stepped up next to me.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Sorry.” The boy slouched back in the grass, half hiding behind his friend.

“You’re great with kids,” I whispered.

Dean smiled.

“You have to be, when you’ve got seven younger siblings.”

I gave a start.

That seemed like alotof siblings. I’d grown up as an only child and when I was younger, begged my parents for a sister, but it never happened. They loved each other and our family, so when I was a child, I couldn’t figure out why they didn’twant another baby. It was only once I reached my twenties that I realized that perhaps theycouldn’thave another one. I’d never asked my dad about it because it seemed too personal, too painful, but it seemed like the most logical explanation.

“Yep, seven siblings.” Dean counted them off on his fingers as he listed their names. “Dallas, Charlie, Steve, Dakota, Althea, Liam, and McKenna. I don’t see them as much as I’d like to, but I support them as much as I can.” He looked troubled for a moment, but brightened when a little girl raised her hand.

“Can I get your autograph?” she asked shyly.

“Of course.” Dean took the pen and paper she held out, kneeled, and balanced the paper on his knee. “What’s your name?”

“Violet,” she said.

Dean wroteDear Violet, work hard at school and you can be whatever you want to be. Dean Hart.He underlined his name and looked up at me.

“Would you like Kyla’s autograph, too?”

“Okay.”

Unlike Jeremy, Violet seemed perfectly happy to accept me in Brooke’s role. She smiled as I took the paper and copied Dean’s pose.

“What should I write?”

“Whatever you want.” Dean smiled at Violet. “Just keep it appropriate for kids.”

I rolled my eyes. What did he think I was going to write, a pornographic limerick? Whatnotto write was easy, but whattowrite was much harder. I thought about it for a few moments, then wrote,I hope you like our movie, Kyla Wright. It felt like a cop-out, like the kind of thing you write in the yearbook of someone you barely know, but the little girl was thrilled. She grinned and handed the page to her friends to show them oursignatures. Before long, we had several other tiny fans who wanted our autographs, too.

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