ACT 3, SCENE 2

Fear struck like a bolt of lightning, stopping her beating heart. Astoria was paralyzed, rooted in her spot. Black feathers were scattered across the floor. In the center was wicked machine, pristine and perfect as though no damage had occurred. But that wasn't possible—she knew that Leon had dismantled it before. What she saw next made her face turn ash-white: there was a man slumped against the wall.

But his skin wasn't skin; his body was made of wood. A choked scream escaped her throat and Astoria rushed to his side. She shook his body and hoped for any sign of life. Looking at his face, she saw that there were no longer human features but empty drawn-on eyes and a painted smile. Her shaking hands moved to reposition the puppet. Ahiru pressed her ear to his chest where she heard the faint, barely-there beating of a heart. 

Her eyes widened. "He's alive!" 

Leon nodded yet his collected demeanor remained. "The witch's doing, no doubt." Thoughtfully, he picked up a crow feather and examined it. There was a slight red shimmer—magic possibly. Malachite-green eyes narrowed. 

A sudden gust of wind swept the room, sending the feathers spiraling together in a burst of violet and crimson light. From the whirlwind emerged a dark, crow-like figure with unidentifiable features. Before anyone could react, his clawed hand latched unto Leon. Talons dug into his skin and drew blood. Unable to look away, Leon stared back at the creature's scarlet eyes. Gradually the sounds of reality faded away and left behind only a ringing in his ears. He felt oddly at peace, complacent like a cow—despite the winds' heightening intensity. 

"No!" Astoria shrieked. 

 She lunged at the whirlwind, reaching desperately for her friend, only to be knocked away. She tumbled to the floor and slammed into the way. Wincing, the girl pushed herself up and gritted her teeth. She screamed again to no avail. He stood spellbound by the shadowy stranger and made no move to escape, even when the vortex began to shrink. 

"Please!" she tried once more, her calls devolving into despairing howls. 

She charged towards them again but this time she collided into nothingness. Astoria's feet slipped and once more she came crashing down. She whimpered from the pain of impact, hot tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze from the center of the room where her prince had been only seconds ago.

"That's all for today," declared Mr. Wilson. He tapped his cane against the ground. The last scene to be rehearsed. 

Jackie released a rattling breath and smoothed out her dress. The stage lights flicked on, bathing the room in bright gold. Gone was the mystical green swirls of the fantasy story. She toyed with Astoria's golden circlet. Just a little longer and they'd compete and the play would be laid to rest. Along with her character.

Jackie frowned. Astoria was merely fictional, but she felt they'd bonded too much to simply let her go. She headed to the dressing room to change and once more washed off the makeup while Aaliyah helped with undoing her hairpins.

"It's really all coming together." She twisted off the faucet and stared at her dripping reflection. "Your set design is amazing.

"I know." Aaliyah hummed and held out a small towel. Her hair was done in  pretty cornrows and she wore a pink Legally Blonde shirt that contrasted with her dark skin. "How are you feeling about it all?"

"Relieved. All this anxiousness will finally end." Jackie paused and bit her lip. "But sad. We spend so much time on the play and then that's it, we just move on after the competition."

"That's show biz for you." Aaliyah hopped on a counter, legs swinging back and forth. She wore a pair of beat-up black converse, the white soles stained with dirt. "Any plans on doing theatre professionally?"

"Acting just a dream really." Jackie looked down and gathered her hair into a ponytail, then secured the red ribbon around it. "I don't want to be waiting tables to pay the bills.

"Don't knock it. You can make a lot of money waiting tables." Aaliyah paused and straightened her t-shirt. "You also have to pretend to like people, so you'll still fulfill your actress dreams."

She scowled and flicked a hair tie at her friend. "Very funny." 

A knock sounded on the door. "Anyone in there? I'm coming in," Anahi called. Her black hair was pulled up into an elaborate style and smokey shadow rimmed her dark eyes. She looked every inch the wicked sorceress from the play, even offstage. 

Upon seeing the two, she smiled briefly before heading to wash and change for dinner. "You guys know where we're going afterwards?" 

Jackie shrugged. There were multiple restaurants within the hotel but she didn't know if the theatre group had plans to go altogether. Although some time away alone with her mother would be nice. She didn't want to have to keep seeing Liam around. Not after what he did.

She bristled and her finger wound tightly around the ends of her ribbon. Releasing a deep breath, she forced herself to relax and plastered on a bright smile. "We should explore the area together."

Anahi's smile widened in return. "Mr. Wilson will probably agree if it's all three of us."

"I'm down. Let's head to Broadway." Aaliyah hopped down and raised her hands behind her head.

"There's no musical." 

"I still want to check it out."

Jackie caught a glimpse of blond hair as Liam passed by the dressing room door. Her smile faltered but she kept her mask intact. The paragon of carefree cheerfulness. "Sounds great to me."

. . .

"You know there's a sweater curse?" 

Aarav had spent the last hour after rehearsals trapped in a hotel room with Liam, who stubbornly refused to leave. He sighed as he constantly refreshed his email. It was foolish to think that regular decision letters would be sent out so early, but it had become an addiction. Even now, his finger ached to click the page once more. His hands itched for a cigarette but he'd left them behind for the trip. Not to mention that he was trying to kick the habit.

The caffeine was another story. He'd already finished off three cups of coffee to banish a withdrawal headache. Nevertheless, he decided to entertain his friend. "What's the sweater curse?"

"If you knit someone a sweater, they'll break up with you."

"If I knit you a sweater would you go away then?"

"That depends." Liam grinned. "Are we dating?" 

Aarav promptly hurled a pillow at his face, hard enough to send him tumbling off the bed. "Since you're so intent on digging your own grave, I hope you've planned your funeral accordingly."

"I will if you give my eulogy."

"I won't have anything nice to say about you."

Liam threw a pillow back at him, sending it crashing into his keyboard. A string of jumbled letters spread across an email pop-up. Aarav sighed and clicked the screen off before wiping the smudges off his glasses. He folded the laptop shut and stood up. He shoved the room key into his pocket and tossed on a jacket before heading out. "I'm going for a walk."

"You better not be missing when it comes time for dinner," he warned before stepping out.

Liam offered a thumbs-up in response. Once more, Aarav rolled his eyes and yanked the door shut. He spent the next half hour or so wandering around the hotel. Everywhere he walked was nearly the same: towering glass walls and shiny marble floors. Alone in the pretense of glamor, it was easier to breathe. No matter where he was, nothing changed. All stale days and soured dreams washed down with a bitter aftertaste. 

Aarav's hands curled into fists in his pockets. He dug his ragged nails deeper and deeper until they drew blood and left crescent wounds on his skin. He gritted his teeth and stepped out onto a balcony. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the railing. 

The threads of success dangled before him, tantalizingly within reach. Yet so far away. His chest tightened. Westminster needed to win. First place on national stage. Maybe then he could prove himself. To Stanford. To his parents. 

Would they finally be satisfied? Just how much would it take to prove to them that theatre had been a worthwhile pursuit? Over and over, Aarav would let his family's criticisms split him apart, allow their expectations to crack him open—all without a word of complaint. All just for a faint smile of pride and a nod of acknowledgement. Their approval was his true addiction, his other vices all another tool to mask it. 

"What are you going here?"

Aarav turned to see Jackie stepping onto the balcony, the doors swinging shut behind her. Her hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail, her signature red ribbon fluttering in the gentle wind. She smiled at him and as she walked closer, he could see the faint smear of eyeliner around her lids—leftover makeup from earlier rehearsal.

"Hey," he choked out. Aarav cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. He glanced out over the city, the flurry of cars and civilians below. They looked so small, so inconsequential. Like little dolls he could easily knock over.

"Are you upset?" she asked. 

Aarav peered at her. Her hands clung the railing too tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Are you?"

It felt like a challenge, see who could crack first. Where Jackie shepherded herself away from hurt with sunny smiles and a constant cheery demeanor, Aarav hid behind sharp remarks and a brusque attitude. 

He caved first. "It still hurts."

"Stanford?" 

He nodded and squinted at the distance. A deferral. Such a stupid fucking thing to be bothering him. He hated it. 

"That's not all, is it?"

No it wasn't. Jackie had hit the nail right on the head. At the end, it all came down to one thing: his parents. He'd spent the entirety of his life trying to fit into the perfect dream they'd envisioned for him.

And he wasn't the only one. He knew that now when his eyes met Jackie's. Memories of the bits she'd revealed about her father floated to the surface of his mind. Aarav shook his head and straightened his glasses. He felt stupid for being upset. At least his parents were still together. At least one never left. 

"Your turn." He forced a laugh. 

"I just feel used." Jackie shifted closer to him. Her ponytail, carried by the breeze, brushed against his cheek. Almost like a brush painting over him, softening the edges. "Liam just used me, then threw me away."

Her eyes snapped to his face. "Sorry. I know he's your friend."

"Don't apologize. I know he's a jerk at times."

"It just…"

The words fell from his lips before he realized. "It reminds you of your dad."

Jackie flinched and regret wormed its way through his stomach. Aarav had half a mind to hurl himself over the railing in that moment. How could he be so insensitive?

"It does," she whispered. After a moment, she shifted closer, her shoulder brushing against his, and the buttons on her coat glimmered in the fading light. He barely caught her words over the sound of the city. His heartbeat almost swallowed them whole.

"Screw him. You don't need him." Aarav's eyes flicked to her face. "Your mom loves you. More than enough for the both of them." 

A slow smile spread across her face. This time it reached her eyes. "I could say the same for you, about both your parents."

Aarav bit back a snort and slid his hands into his pockets. "I mean it," she pressed on. "Deep down, they must be so proud of you."

Proud of him. He wanted to believe it. Craved it. 

An uncomfortable itch spread over his skin and he gritted his teeth. "Has Liam apologized yet?"

Jackie shook her head. "I've been avoiding him outside of rehearsal."

"I don't blame you."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. You don't have any reason to."

"I feel bad about tangling you in the middle of all this."

"None of it is your fault." Aarav narrowed his eyes. "Don't ever think it is. Not for a second." 

Then he relaxed and pulled away from the railing. "I'll see you later. Get some rest. We need to win tomorrow."

"Winning isn't everything you know."

He offered her a crooked smile. "Have you met me? Winning is everything."

. . .

Later that night, Aarav called home. Neither parent answered and his calls went to voicemail. However, his sister was quick to pick up. 

"Anna, I made a new friend today!" 

"Really?" He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be soothed by her cheerfulness. If she was happy, she could be too.

"Her name's Jenny. She has a cow who's going to be Flappy's friend. Did you see Flappy?" 

"I did." Aarav tugged the worn gray elephant from his suitcase and set it in his lap. It stared up at him with small black eyes—thread stitched into fabric. 

"He can be your mascot! He'll help you win."

"Thanks Aadhira. How are Amma and Tandri?" 

A beat of silence. "They're still mad."

Aarav swallowed hard. Fucking Stanford. He didn't even have to ask. "Oh."

"Amma asks if you've eaten though," Aadhira added quickly.

"Just had dinner."

"We did too! Gongura mamsam, your favorite. And with extra chili's!" 

The mention of the dish brought an unfamiliar tug of homesickness. The meal was typically marinated in rich slices and garnished with fried red chilies and curry leaves. "I'll come home soon. After the competition." 

"You'll win for sure. Flappy brings the best kind of lucky magic.

Aarav toyed with the ends of the elephant's ears. "Make sure to get to bed early. You have school tomorrow."

"You're mean!" his sister squealed into the phone. Then she hung up. He sat criss-crossed in silence for a moment before setting the elephant aside and rising to brush his teeth.

After turning off the lamp, he went to bed enveloped in a fitful sleeps and dreams of winning, the threat of tomorrow dangling over his neck.