“Gross.” I wrinkle my nose.
Noah looks intrigued. “You think Sean’s gross?”
“I mean, he’s not gross. He’s just an asshole.”
“Really! How so?”
“You want me to explain why Sean Sanders is an asshole?”
“Yeah, what did he do?”
What did Sean do? I don’t even know how to respond to that. Is Sean an asshole? Of course. But it’s not his actions, per se. He’s just a fuckboy. It’s just his basic fuckboy essence.
But even I have to admit, fuckboy essence is kind of nebulous. Probably wouldn’t hold up in a court of law as a murder defense, for example.
I shake my head. “The real question is, why are you guys even friends with him?”
“With Sean?” Ryan says. He and Noah exchange glances. “I mean, I’m not, like, super tight with him.”
“He drove you home.”
“He was dropping someone else off nearby. He’s not a bad dude.” Ryan pauses, meeting my eyes. “Right?”
“Right. No, you’re right.” Something tugs in my chest. “He hasn’t done anything to me.”
“Okay, good.” He hesitates. “Let me know if he does.”
I stare up at my canopy, feeling thick-throated and strange. It’s not that I mind when Ryan does the protective big brother thing. It’s just, my heart never quite knows where to land with it. Because at the end of the day, Ryan still lifts weights with Eric Graves. He still sees Mira Reynolds at parties. And sometimes I just want to scream in his face. Did you forget? Do you not care?
“You know what the issue is?” says Noah.
I blink. “That you guys have shitty friends?”
“Good guess. But no.” Noah grins. “Little G, the issue here is that you don’t understand sports.”
“Oh, yay. This again—”
“Hear me out. I’m talking about team stuff, okay? Take Sean, for example. You asked why we’re friends with him, which I get. Super legit question, because, to the untrained eye, sure. That’s what it looks like.”
I sit up straight, scowling. “I don’t have untrained eyes.”
“I’m just saying. You don’t know what it’s like to be on a team.”
“Excuse me? I used to play soccer.”
“You were six,” Ryan reminds me. “You cried every game because you were scared the ball would hit you.”
“Because it did! Right in the foot!”
“That’s the game,” says Ryan. “Like, that’s the whole entire game.”
“Okay, well, so what? I know what teams are—”
“But.” Noah raises a finger. “You don’t get team dynamics. You’re trying to compare it to friendship, but it’s not the same thing. It’s like this.” He grabs my teddy bears, Amber and Ember. “These two. They fucking hate each other, right?”
“Um, no. They love each other—”
“But let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that they hate each other. Wait, no. Okay, it’s more like a vague mutual dislike.” He turns the bears to face each other. “But the thing is, they’re kind of stuck together, right? They’re hanging out here together in your bed all day, and—you sleep with them, right?” He looks at me. “Yeah, you totally do. So all day and all night, these two little dudes—”
“They’re girls!”
“Pardon me! These two ladies. These pretty, pretty little lady bears—”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Just listen! So, what I’m saying is, you’ve got these two fine young women who are basically forced together twenty-four seven. And let’s take it to the next level, okay? So Beary and Bundles here—”
“Amber and Ember! Show some respect—”
“All right, so Amber and Ember are not only constant companions, they also have to work together, right? Let’s say they have some common task to complete. Like . . .” He looks at Ryan, who shrugs. “Okay. I don’t know,” says Noah, “I don’t know bears. I don’t know their lives. But the point is, even though they’re not friends, and they may not even really get along, they pretty much have to find a way to be generally cool with each other. Otherwise it just sucks for everyone.”
I snatch the bears back and hug them. “Got it. Cool story.”
“So what I’m saying,” Noah continues, unfazed, “is that when you’re on a team—”
“You realize this is the exact same dynamic as a theater ensemble, right?”
“No, no, no. It’s different. It’s more like—Ry, help me out here. You know what I’m saying, right?”
“Something about teddy bears?” Ryan rests his chin on his fist.
“Shut up. No. You guys are both—ugh.”
Ryan and I exchange the tiniest smiles.
“You know what?” Noah slides off the bed, turning to face me. “Here’s what has to happen. Kate, you need to go to a game. One game, okay? Promise me. Doesn’t even have to be baseball.”
“I’m not—”
“Football. All right? I’ll make a deal with you. Little Garfield, you go to one football game with me, and I want you to really pay attention to how the players interact. Okay? On and off the field. The whole dynamic. I’ll talk you through it. You’ll get it.”
“How is that a deal—”
“I’m not done! So, if you do that—one game, but you have to really focus, okay? And in return . . .” He pauses thoughtfully. “I’ll sing a whole song onstage.”
I laugh. “That’s not an incentive.”
“Just think about it.” Noah gestures vaguely at Amber and Ember. “You three ladies talk among yourselves—”
I throw both bears at his head before he even closes his mouth.
Scene 19
Three and a half minutes after the final bell rings on Thursday, Andy and I are in the auditorium. Center section, six rows from the front, carefully calculated to be the ideal seat for audition spying. Andy sinks into his chair. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine. Good. Are you nervous? I’m nervous.” I drum my hands along the armrest. “Why does this never get easy?”
Anderson nods without speaking.
“You got this, though. You’re going to be so good, Andy. I swear to God, you’ll get Dauntless. It’s not even a question—”
He cuts me off. “I think Matt’s going to get it.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Seriously? You’ve heard him sing.”
“I’ve heard you sing, too,” I say.
But Anderson just sighs. “Like, what if Zhao does the seniority thing again this year? Or what if I just fucking bomb it?”
“You’re not going to bomb it!”
“You don’t know that. You’re not psychic.”
“Andy, you’ve never bombed an audition in your life.”
And it’s true. If Anderson wants to play Prince Dauntless, I’d be shocked if he didn’t get it. After all, he’s a triple threat. An obnoxiously talented triple threat.