Being around Lizzie made me forget to breathe, which meant I spent several minutes of the day lightheaded and with the skin tone of a Smurf. We sat in the waiting room, going through optometry magazines and vaguely watching an afternoon talk show playing in the corner. An older man across from us snored softly as he completely melted inside the one leather couch in the waiting room. Every now and then, he'd snore so loud, he'd wake himself up and I'd have to hide behind my hand to laugh.

"We still need to find ten people for the chorus," Lizzie reminded me like a lasso that pulled me back to reality.

I nodded. "Yeah, we exhausted our school for people and Mrs. Donnelly already roped some of the production department into it."

Lizzie perked up. "Oh my god. Are you—?"

"God no!" I staged whispered. "No one wants me ruining the chorus. There has to be something else we can do. Like maybe we should make posters and hang them by the community theater."

"But we only have a week. We need ten people and we need them now."

With a sigh, I slid down my seat and took out my phone. I replied to a few texts, getting bored and decided to peruse Instagram, clicking through a few stories and checking out my feed. There was a DM from Emily, but I still hadn't replied to her original text message. I had already hurt her so much and I didn't enjoy thinking about how I needed to do it again.

"You follow Miss Patty?" Lizzie asked, glancing over at my phone.

I snatched it out of view. "Um, young lady, it's not proper phone etiquette to snoop on someone's phone."

"Sorry." She raised her hands. "We never covered that during the trial."

I chuckled. "That trial. I can't believe we did that."

"You said that like it happened years ago. It's barely been a couple of days." Lizzie rolled her eyes. I missed that eye roll. Her voice. Her face. I was weak.

"How did I ever get you to agree to do it? When you hated me so much?"

"I didn't hate you. You were annoying and an egomaniac, but I didn't hate you."

"I was annoying? You didn't hate me? Is that still the truth? You don't think those things now?"

"No."

I looked into her eyes, feeling a spark appear in the cold dungeon where my heart lived. A fire was trying to ignite, and I wanted to let it burn. Leaning in carefully, I touched Lizzie's arm. But I barely moved an inch closer when Jordan's voice shattered the moment and Lizzie jumped up and out of reach. Damn.

"Hey, guys! Look!" Jordan pointed at his eyes. "Contacts! They're letting me wear contacts! I can't believe it!"

"Believe it," the nurse who accompanied him said. She chuckled a little and motioned him towards the lobby. "Go ahead and pick out a frame with your friends, then we can start the process of making them."

"When will his glasses be ready?" Lizzie asked, in full mom-friend mode.

"In just a few days."

"Perfect."

"Who cares!" Jordan exclaimed and ran around the office. "I get to wear contacts! Holy crap, Parker! You've got like a million freckles! Whoa! The carpet in here is so weird looking. There's a stain there! Can you see it? Cause I can see it."

"Come on, Charming," I grumbled and snatched his arm, dragging him to the men's section. I was so close. So incredibly close. I was replaying the moment to try to remember the look on Lizzie's face, if it was bad or good, when the realization hit me like a smack in the back of the head. I couldn't believe it hadn't dawned on me before.

I dropped Jordan's arm and ran up to Lizzie, holding both her arms and giving her a little shake, I was so excited. "Miss Patty!"

"Yeah, I know! I'm sorry I looked at your phone. I was just curious."

"No! I've got it!" I grabbed Lizzie's arms, feeling myself tremble with all the excitement building inside of me. My wide grin nearly broke my face. "We need Miss Patty's help. If he doesn't know at least ten people that love to perform, then I'll eat my shoe."

"You're a genius, Parker!" Lizzie shouted in the middle of this waiting room and for that moment, it was like we were the only two people who existed in the entire world. She was so focused on me. Totally on me as we came up with a plan to drop Jordan off back at his house and speed to the Salon. We came up with all the ways this could benefit Miss Patty, how we could advertise the online store.

Before I knew it, I was back inside Lizzie's car. It all felt so right, like this was exactly where I was meant to be and this pedestal, it was mine. My name was all over it and I refused to let it be painted over by someone's name that didn't sound as good paired with hers.

Someone else could just as easily fall in love with Lizzie because who wouldn't?

But Lizzie and Parker just had such a better ring to it.

#

It had now been so long since I spoke to Camille that I was out of practice and forgot how to initiate it. Talking to her should've been like riding a bike. Like I'd hop on the seat, start turning the wheels and I'd be able to take off on a bicycle made for two. Instead, I nearly knocked her down with a bucket of my costumes and my entire body burned with a blush.

"Uh, s-sorry, my bad," I had blabbered. "You'd think I'd be able to see from all the way up here? You know-"

Camille only glowered, unimpressed by my intelligible storytime as Norah joined my side. "Hey, what's up? I've met Barry, he's super cool. Camille, have you..." She motioned down the hall towards the auditorium, but Camille turned away. She brushed past us both, leaving me a taste of her icy chill.

"She's pissed," I said.

"No shit." Norah frowned and crossed her arms. "But why is she pissed at me?"

"What have you done lately?"

"Nothing. I even became friends with you, which is what I thought she wanted."

"I'd talk to her, but she's scary."

"Yeah," Norah agreed, but not in the same way, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Hey, do you want help getting into costume? I finally have your shoes ready—"

"No!" Norah shouted, her whole face going wide with horror, until she caught herself in the act and quickly tried to backtrack. "I mean, uh... no thanks. I've- I've got it."

Like that, she scurried away and I could tell something was wrong, but I was too busy blowing out the fires I had started to even begin helping anyone else with theirs. We went back to work as my true dream job began. I needed to tailor and fix five dresses that were originally meant for high school girls and make them perfect for an array of Drag Queens. All of Miss Patty's drag daughters, five of them, stood on stage, taking instructions from Mrs. Donnelly. They were all given a buddy, someone from the original chorus that could answer any and all questions.

Not that any of the drag daughters were starting from scratch.

Who doesn't love Cinderella?

The last five extras we took from the Tech Crew, everyone we could sacrifice and one of the guys that was meant to play the trumpet during the performance. One of those extras was unfortunately me. My main instructions were to do my best.

That bastard Ian got out of it because he was one of the only people who knew how to work the controls.

"Which one's the girl you blew it with?" said someone who in his daily life was named Michael, but on the stage carried the name Sugar Princess. He was like twelve feet tall with a thousand tattoos, so I gave him the dress that used to belong to Laura, a basketball player with long billowing sleeves and a cupcake silhouette.

I grimaced. "What girl haven't I blown it with?"

"No, no." He waved away my coyness. "Which one's the girlfriend?"

"Which girlfriend?"

"Stop bragging about all your girlfriends and point this unlucky girl out."

"That one." I pointed at Lizzie, who noticed, so I quickly started waving to save face. Michael waved too, like a real friend. Confused, Lizzie waved back, but went back to marking a few things on her sheet music. She smiled cutely to herself and I almost started weeping.

"Wow." Sugar Princess nodded, understandingly. "You really fucked up."

"Shut up," I warned and tightened his corset.

He grunted before unleashing a long tortured groan, rolling his shoulder muscles around. The sound of his neck cracking reminded me of gravel crunching underneath my feet. "Come on, you can do better than that Casanova."

It was business as usual during rehearsal as we tried going through the whole play with our new cast and our less than rhythmically challenged tech crew (me, included. I had to fill out the remaining five spots needed). They eventually forced me to actually practice and go up to the stage in time for the ball. Most of the dances had been simplified to fancy posing and really selling it, with the exception of the ball.

Begrudgingly, I danced with Taylor #5 who just made a face like she smelled rotten spinach and threatened to curse me with split ends forever if I stepped on her toes. To me, we had similar chaotic energies and maybe we could be friends if she had a sliver of chillness to her personality. She was tolerable enough to teach me how to waltz in our ballgowns.

"Whoa! You okay?" Jordan suddenly yelped as he dove for Norah's arm to keep her from falling on her face. A few curls spilled from Norah's quick bun. Her skin glistened from a sparkly skin lotion we were trying out, which just added to her natural shine.

She finally wore the dress.

Cinderella's dress.

It held the classic silhouette with capped sleeves and the need for three separate petti coats, but without the less glamorous hip poofs. Instead, she drifted in this beautiful fabric that started off blue at the top and faded to white as if she were floating on clouds. I worked with this fade, adding a thicker pasture of blue beading on top. These sparkles faded towards the bottom, freckling out and becoming sparse.

I wanted to be buried in that dress.

"I'm fine!" Norah insisted, her voice high and tight as she hobbled and bounced up and down on one foot. With the beading work, she slightly jingled as she hopped. "I just tripped."

"Is something wrong with your foot?" I asked, letting Taylor #5 go to be by her side.

"What's going on?" Camille asked, appearing from the wings. She wore her full Evil Stepsister garb, a horrible pink monstrosity. A ball gown with everything in the kitchen sink thrown on: pearls, feathers, gemstones and lace, but she also wore a huge pair of thick-rimmed glasses and lacey gloves.

Norah steeled her expression far longer than I would've been able to last. The moment Camille walked over and just touched Norah's arm, Norah melted. She folded like an origami heart. Like a princess, Norah pulled up her dress as if to show her foot so the prince may slide on a glass slipper... but what we found was an ankle brace.

"Norah!" Camille and I gasped.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jordan asked, looking a little guilty.

"I know! I know! I twisted my ankle during track yesterday." Norah closed her eyes, pinching her brows together. "It's stupid, but I didn't want to say anything. Not when things were finally looking up. I didn't want to be the reason the play got cancelled right after we saved it."

Besides me, no one else noticed that Camille crossed her arms. Her brow slowly lowered as her tiny mouth thinned into one line. My chest tightened as I noticed all the warning signs of a major blowout.

"Norah," Mrs. Donnelly spoke up from her perch in the audience. She wore the production's powder blue T-Shirt with a print of Cinderella's shoe, the fairy godmother's wand and enough glitter to replace the stars. The Bejeweler she bought from eBay always came in a clutch. "Your health is more important than this play. Be honest, do you think you can perform this weekend?"

Norah frowned. "No... I don't think so."

"That's alright. That's why we have understudies—"

"When did you twist your ankle?" Camille suddenly asked.

Everyone turned at once, slightly confused. I locked eyes with Lizzie sitting at the piano in the orchestra section, widening my eyes in panic. I motioned to Camille, but Lizzie cocked her head, not quite getting it.

"Um, yesterday?" Norah explained. "I didn't quite make a hurtle and took a fall—"

"Do you have a doctor's note?" Camille prodded. "Is it swollen? I wanna see it."

"Camille," Norah gawked, taking an awkward step back with her hands up in surrender.

"Prove it."

"Camille! What's your damage?" Taylor #5 yelled from the peanut gallery, rightly horrified with the rest of us. Then, she said something that was less out of character. "Who cares how she fucked up her ankle? You're the understudy, Camille. You get to be Cinderella."

"No," Camille snapped and for whatever bizarre reason, she whirled an angry finger at me of all people. "No! No! I know what you're doing! This plan is a little too much, even for you. You can't fix our friendship by making me Cinderella, Parker."

"What?!" I straightened. "I- I didn't do anything! I didn't twist Norah's ankle!"

"I know her ankle's fine! She's faking it, I know she is! You two are friends now and I'm sure you've been planning this behind my back."

"No offence, Camille," Norah said. "But you sound crazy. I'm not faking it. It's really twisted, Cam. This isn't a conspiracy."

"I'm not going to be manipulated. No way. If I have to be Cinderella, then I..." Camille glared at me as the cogs in her brain spun. The lightbulb flashed over her head and with a smug smile, she crossed her arms and declared, "Then I quit the play!"

The room of drama kids gasped, dramatically and well-timed.

Camille hiked up her costume and brushed past me. I was too much in shock to move, to think for a while as she walked down the steps and strutted past the audience towards the main lobby. Lizzie jumped out of her chair and chased after Camille. "Parker, come on!" she shouted, shaking me out of my daze. I jumped off the staged in my ball gown and ran for the exit.

I threw myself at the doors and yelled, "Camille! Get back here!"

"No!" Camille shouted, running like her life depended on it.

"Don't be an idiot!" Lizzie yelled too.

I ran as fast as I could, gathering as much of my dress as I could manage, thankfully wearing my leggings underneath. Finally, I kicked the heels off and through the science department, letting my bare feet slap the floor and try to catch that tiny goth, who jingled loudly with every step. Lizzie lagged behind me, immediately out of breath.

Camille quickly turned into the gym and ran down the steps that led to the basketball court. At first, a wave of relief washed over me because I assumed all the doors would be locked. "Stop running!" my voice boomed, bouncing off the high ceiling. "Let's talk!"

"No!" Camille yelled again because maybe that was the only thing she knew how to say. She pulled at every door handle until she found purchase with one door and I knew where it led, which gave me a brilliant idea. Camille would kill me, however. Oh, well. I couldn't possibly make her angrier with me than already so I might as well do somethings nuts.

I followed Camille into the school's swimming pool, hit by the strong smell of chlorine and plastic. The echo was stronger here, sensitive to the sound of our labored breathes, our feet hitting the ground, a distant drip and even the sounds of our raging hearts.

Closing my eyes, I summoned the last of my strength and powered my legs to not only catch up to Camille, but also to pile drive her five-foot body into the pool. We crashed magnificently onto the surface, creating tidal waves. The chilled water swallowed me whole. At least a pint of water infiltrated my nose so I resurfaced hacking a lung.

Almost immediately, Camille splashed me. "Why did you do that?! You're a menace, you know that?!"

"You wouldn't stop running!" I managed to get out between wheezing.

"I'm out of here," Camille grumbled.

Lizzie ran to the nearest ladder and slammed her feet on the top. "No, you're not getting out of here until you two actually talk."

I met Camille's eyes, her makeup running down her cheeks. It was like a couple of stray cats sizing each other up. "You can't expect me to spill all my thoughts and feelings, if you're not willing to do the same. Meet me halfway, Camille. Halfway..." I took a step forward. Begrudgingly, Camille did too.

"What's going on Camille?" Lizzie asked. "It didn't start at the party. You've been mad for weeks."

Since the start of the trial, I realized.

Camille sighed, letting go of her tension and maybe something else too. "I've... I've been jealous, okay?" Her face warmed with a rosy color that made her dress look cheap. "When I told you guys to start the trial, I just wanted some peace. I mean, how could my favorite people not like each other? I figured, if you two really got to know each other, you'd stop fighting all the time."

She took off her wig, alongside her fake glasses and threw them to the side. She let her black hair spill from a hair clip as she stared down at the water. "But then... you guys stopped calling and I was left alone on the weekends. You guys didn't seem to care anymore... and then, when you ditched my party, I felt like you guys didn't even like me anymore. I'm so stupid."

She looked up at the ceiling and sniffed. "So yeah, I kinda wanted you guys to end the trial so I could have my best friends again." Her chin wobbled and she couldn't speak another word, not without letting the flood gates open. She did anyways. "I'm sorry that was so selfish."

"I had no idea. Camille, I'm so sorry," I said, my chest tightening, and I couldn't bear the space between us anymore. Lizzie slumped and without a second thought, slipped into the water with us. She waded her way over and put her arms around Camille. "You're my best friend. You're my first best friend. Ever. You matter to me and I hate that I made you think anything less." My eyes watered and I longed to be part of that group hug, moving towards them.

"And you were so mean to Norah!" Camille started back up again, splashing me again.

"Hey!" I drew back.

"When I really liked her! I couldn't believe you would be so petty, even though I wanted you to like her! Even though you knew I liked her!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"We've been a couple of idiots," Lizzie said and pulled back, looking at Camille with a soft sort of smile.

"Maybe we're all too alike," Camille joked and opened her arm out to me. We held each other for a little while as we tried catching up from the blowout with my mom to Lizzie coming out to Danny. Finally, Norah found us and refused to jump in and join us, which didn't look good for her future girlfriend's performance review. She coaxed us back out and led us to the theater. Everyone watched Camille walk back up to the stage with her head held high.