Chapter 15

January 31st, 2003

The day of the show. They'd been preparing all month long. I'd been preparing all month long. I'll be honest, I was never one of the drama kids, I never had any interest in being in a stage production, especially not as a freshman. That was just too much meddling in powers above my own. So I mostly stayed away from the theatre kids. They were scary.

Except for one.

Jaune.

He was a big theatre nerd. He had wanted to be in productions since sixth grade when our elementary school did a rendition of the musical Doo Wop Wed Widing hood. Jaune had been cast as Loud Prince Frank, meaning he got to be the star of the damn show that go around. And somehow this latent talent he had stored up in his veins meant he could land just about any role he wanted, including one of the four male actors in the grade eight production of Hoodie a year ago. Suffice to say, the theatre department liked this particular freshman. Jaune was popular.

Although I kinda feel like his casting as Seymour in this year's production of Little Shop was a little harsh. They knew they needed someone with Jaune's acting talents and stage presence to play the lead role. But I'm certain that he would have been more suited to play Orin the dentist, as he had this flamboyance that I knew Jaune could do better than the timid and nerdy florist. It felt to me like they look at Jaune, as a freshman, and decided to lump that role on him as some kind of trial by fire to see if he was worthy enough to play more interesting roles in the future. Well, that or the fact that Orin was already cast as this senior named Jeremy, who stood a full foot and a half taller than Jaune.

So we weren't going to contest it.

I knew Jaune was gonna be great in the role anyway. He's a great actor. And in his kinda-too-big cardigan costume and little bowtie, he definitely looked the part. He's damn adorable. I don't think he could really pull off the look of Orin with how skinny and short he was. I mean by the time he reached grade twelve, yeah for sure. But not in ninth grade.

Somehow the two of us, Emmy and I, had wound ourselves into the musical as well, myself in the pit band and Em in the production crew. The pit band was hand-picked by the music teacher, the venerable Mr. Gee, specifically for this production. It was mostly seniors from the jazz band, but they needed a trumpet player since whatsername in grade eleven decided she was better than this production and dropped it like a sack of potatoes, so I was drafted in her place. I was happy with this, 'cause it meant that someone finally recognized my playing skills. I held first trumpet in both concert and jazz band, so obviously I was the best choice. Duh.

Em had recently started getting interested in makeup on like a spiritual level, getting quite serious with her hundreds of dollars of makeup kits and products, to the point where she had started uploading tutorials on her Xanga profile for anyone to read and follow, and if I remember correctly, she had something like two thousand followers who religiously commented and liked her posts. I'd had a look at her blog a few times when Winter had let me take a browse on her AOL account. It was pretty good if I was honest, I'm not that into it. But it had clearly caught the eye of our drama teacher who nearly demanded that she join the production crew for hair and makeup. I'm so proud of that girl sometimes. Even if her rich ass dad was able to buy her expensive internet time.

I pushed my way into the drama classroom, trumpet case in hand, my uniform under my arm. The room was full of theatre students hanging around half in their costumes, looking all in that border region between extatic and frightened. Fair play to them, tonight was the night of the big show, when their parents could all come and watch their children up on stage. I knew Jaune's parents would be in attendance, and that they'd be in the front row. Because nobody argued with them.

I pushed past a few of the other students to find Emmy and Jaune in a very precarious position. She was sitting in his lap on a chair, him facing a large lighted mirror and her facing him with her legs wrapped tightly around the back of the chair, pinning his arms in. His face looked like an oil painting, and she was going absolutely wild on it with a concealer brush. I paused a moment, concerned.

"Hey guys, what's uh, what's going on?" I asked, setting my trumpet down slowly.

"This fucker ain't sitting still, Weiss."

"Oh no, eh?"

"Yup."

She had her hat off, for once, sitting on the counter facing out. The polished brass wings were shining brightly and being kept a fair distance away from any chemical or compound that might tarnish their finish. Emmy was protective of her hat. I picked it up and put it on, noticing it was a little loose on my head, and sat down in the chair next to the two of them.

"He being a squirming little shit as usual?"

"You know it. This was the only position I could get him in where he would sit the fuck still."

"Please help me, Weiss." Jaune asked, his body locked in place by Em's aggressive seated position. "I have to pee and she won't let me get up."

"You may get up when I'm done, jag-off."

"And how long is that going to be?"

"Eh, 'nother forty five minutes, probably."

"Oh, god."

I chuckled at their little exchange. I could see that he was sweating, and that the extra pressure of a girl in his lap wasn't doing his child's bladder any favours.

"Emmy, maybe let him get up. Just for a minute. You can go back to torturing when he comes back."

She looked at me with a sly smile.

"No, you and I both know he's not going to. He's just going to bolt."

"Well, yeah, but you're the only makeup artist for the whole production, who the heck else is he going to go to?"

She grumbled.

"Okay, fair." she turned back to him. "Promise to come back?"

"I plead the fifth."

She squeezed, bringing her face near to his, glaring into his eyes. Gosh, she even scared me from this angle.

"Jaune."

"Okay, okay, I promise." he relented, scared out of his boots.

She slung her legs off of him and got up, leaning back against the counter and lifting the hat off my head and placed it on her own. I pouted as my head got suddenly cold. Jaune, true to Emmy's word, bolted from the room in a flurry of legs and half of his costume. She sighed and flippantly turned around and sat back down in the chair he'd just vacated. I popped my case open and pulled out my trumpet, laying it on my legs.

"Sorry, but so you have to sit in his lap?"

She shrugged. "He'll never know the touch of a woman otherwise."

"Fuckin' gross, Em."

She chuckled. "What, I'm just sayin'. That guy needs to unwind and cool off. He's so stressed out over nothing."

"Well, he's going up on stage in front of his parents. Fuckin', I'd be nervous in front of Jaune's parents, they're scary. I don't blame him."

"Probably doesn't help that he had a hot chick sitting in his lap for the past half hour."

"Holy shit, you've been doing this for half an hour?!"

"Fucker squirms! It can't be helped, he's like a little worm."

I smiled, leaning back in the low-backed plastic chair.

"This reminds me of Halloween when we were, what, nine? When you were trying to sew up his shirt with him still in it?"

"Ugh, fuck, don't remind me."

"What was it you called him? A monkey?"

"I 'unno, probably. He had it coming, he wouldn't sit still."

"You were stabbing him with a sewing needle."

"Pff-yeah, then you swooped in and swooned all over him from what I remember."

My face went red.

"Well… uh.. yeah, I was being nice. What's your problem?"

She rolled her eyes at me, kicking her legs under her chair. Jaune returned a moment later, his face plastered with relief. Em stood up and gestured to the chair for him. He seemed hesitant. My goodness, did Emerald roll her eyes a lot. Especially at Jaune.

"Fuck's sake, siddown."

He did, leaving his hands on the arms of the chair.

"Arms at your sides."

"No."

"Now."

His arms fell down to his hips and off the arms of the chair. She gave him a pleasant and very fake smile, and slung her legs back around his body, once again locking him in place. He sighed, dejected and defeated. It always amazed me how much control Emerald had over boys, Jaune in particular. Him and I always got along reasonably well, coexisting and playing off each other so casually. But with Em, he was so obedient and submissive. Man, I wish I incited as much fear in men as Em did. I could have been so powerful. I could have ruled the damn world. I really don't know why Emmy never tried to, she'd have been so successful.

"Right. Weiss, hand me the concealer, will ya?"

I reached over to the counter and picked up the literal bucket of concealer and handed to Em, watching her pop it open with one hand and scoop out a generous handful of the pinkish cream and splatter it onto his face, little regard for any of the orifices it might end up in.

"That seems a little much…"

"Have you seen how pasty white this boy is? The floodlights are gonna reflect off him like mirrors if I don't. Do you want him to glow in the light?"

"Well…"

"Oh, right, he already does glow for you."

"Hey!"

"Don't deny it, Schnee."

I crossed my arms and spun in a circle in the chair. She didn't know a damn thing about me. I decided to distract them both.

"Hey, Jaune, I heard you got dumped by Blair."

He laughed, immediately coughing on a bunch of concealer.

"Well, that's what she wants you to think."

"What happened?"

"She tried to kiss me."

My heart dropped past my stomach and directly into my hips.

"Wh-what? What did you do?"

"Her mouth smelled like an ashtray. And apparently it offended her when I turned away and asked her not to."

Oh thank fuck.

"What did she do?"

"Scoffed and told me to fuck myself and left. Hasn't spoken to me since."

"This was like two months ago, Weiss, get with the program." Em interjected.

"Hey, I was just trying to give the guy some privacy. I don't know what the statute of limitations on making fun of someone for getting dumped is."

Emmy shrugged. "Usually like two minutes. Least, that's what I do."

"Yeah, but you're an asshole." Jaune retorted, trying to bite the tube of mascara out of her hands. He did not succeed.

"Fair point, blondie."

I wiped a bead of sweat off my brow in secret, pleased that that relationship hadn't lasted. We didn't like that bitch anyway, she could drop dead for all we cared. besides, who the hell smokes in ninth grade?

"You know, at this rate, he's never gonna kiss a girl." I pointed out, slinking down in my seat and crossing my legs.

Em stopped painting his face for a moment and looked down at him, a frown forming on her face. She tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah, you're right, he won't." she turned to me for a second. "We can always remedy that now, of course."

"Wait, wha-" he tried to move. He was too late.

She grabbed both sides of his face in her hands and leaned in. I watched his eyes go wide as the whole thing for him must have happened in slow motion. Em's face closed in on his, and with his arms pinned to his side by her thighs, there was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped as the much taller and stronger girl moved in for the kill. He panicked.

"No!" he wrenched his face away, scrunching up his eyes and attempting to break his own neck. "Nooo!"

I rolled my eyes and reached out, grabbing Emmy by the lips and pulling her back away from him. She laughed the whole way back as I separated the two. A second longer on my part and she'd have kissed him. Unfortunately for her, this would not have been okay with me, but I did an excellent job hiding my fear of this outcome.

"Em, don't pressure him like that."

"Heh, almost got him, though."

I faked a chuckle. "Yeah, almost. How about instead of being a sadist you wait for him to kiss you."

She pointed at me with a brush.

"See, that would be gross. Only I can be forward, not him."

"God, fuckin', grow up. He's not a doll you can play with."

I received a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Tonight, he is. And he needs to sit still."

"You're jabbing me in the eye." he mumbled.

"Your eyes need to pop, especially if we're putting them behind Rick Moranis-esque glasses. So that means you have to suffer the eyeliner for a little longer."

"How long 'till curtain?" I asked, fiddling with my trumpet's sticky valves.

Em shrugged, and reached for the pamphlet in her makeup case.

"Uh, not for another two hours."

"Are we eating before or after?"

"Wait for the wrap party, there's gonna be pizza."

You didn't have to tell me twice. I could wait an eternity for a good pizza, I was a good little girl. I grabbed Em's hat again and put it on, slotting my mouthpiece into place.

"Hey, how come she gets to wear that and you said you'd slaughter me if I touched it?" Jaune complained, making a face at Em.

"Because she understands how precious that hat is, and it makes her look good."

"But-"

"Touch my hat and die, Jaune."

I snickered at him, flicking the rim up.

"Hey, wait, you can't compliment me, I'm a girl! You are also a girl! That's forbidden, isn't it?"

"Weiss, just sit there and look pretty and shut up."

"Good thing lookin' pretty is all I'm good at, then." I said with a wink.

"Are you also good at shutting up?"

"Not especially. You just have to deal with my attitude, Em."

"Well, it's a good thing that that's what I'm good at, or else you'd be the one in the chair instead of Jaune."

"Why, gonna kiss me instead?"

She shrugged, putting lipstick on our squirming friend. "If it shuts you up, I'm prepared to do what I must."

I may or may not have flushed a little red.

"Are you flirting with me? After having just tried to kiss Jaune? God, you're worse than Blair."

"As far as I can recall, Blair only swung for one team."

"Well, pick a side, then!"

"Nah."

We were interrupted at this moment by the arrival of two more of the main actors in the show. Jeremy, the senior who was playing Orin, and Chris, the eleventh grader playing Mr. Mushnik. I'll be honest, I didn't much care for the two of them. Jeremy was self-centred and brash, who thought himself above the other plebeian actors and rarely showed up to rehearsal because it was a waste of his time, using his beauty like a knife to get what he wanted in any department. And Chris was just a straight-up asshole.

"Hey, Sasha!" he yelled into the room. No one responded.

"Dude, I don't think she's here."

"Fuck!" he stomped his foot like a child, then starter moving over to our position. "You. Callboy. Where's Sasha?"

We ignored him, thinking he was talking to someone else. We were wrong. He reached over the top of Jaune's head and tapped Emerald on the bottom of her chin to grab her attention. Uh, yeah, you can imagine, big mistake.

"Hey, callboy, I'm talking to you. Where's Sasha?"

She just blinked at him a few time. But with each reopening of her eyes, more and more of the red mist descended through her vision. Her face twisted as she slowly got off of Jaune's lap and set her brush down. And seeing as she put it down with the click-clack of each end of the brush's steel barrel, I knew to keep my mouth shut and just watch the proceedings.

"Don't fuckin' touch me, you fuckin' second string, I'm not a fuckin' callboy."

"Cool, I don't care, just tell me where Sasha is."

"I don't fuckin' know, I'm not your goddamn secretary, you fuckin' keep an eye on her, she's your stupid girlfriend."

She was livid. Nobody was allowed to put hands on Emmy unless they were expressly invited to, so this flippant act of gaining her attention also served to gain her ire.

"Then call someone, I don't care. I need to know where she is, don't act like a bitch."

"Don't ever touch me again, it's not my problem that you don't know where she is, asswipe. Go find somewhere else to have your little circle jerk."

He elbowed Jeremy in the ribs, making a snide gesture at her.

"The fuckin' lip on this freshman, eh? Can't believe it."

"Listen, dipshit, this is hair and makeup. Sasha was already through here an hour ago, and once she's out of my chair, she's not my fucking problem anymore. Now, if you so desire, we can do a little test on how much concealer it takes to cover a black eye."

"Hey, don't threaten me, freshman."

Emmy stood up to her full height, which as it turned out was about three inches taller than Chris, who's short and plump stature was doing him no favours with the girl who towered over him. And with her black Stage Crew t-shirt sleeves rolled up and the lights of the makeup mirrors lit up behind her, she must have seemed unbelievably frightening to even the other seniors in the room.

"Your girlfriend. Your problem. Now, fuck off."

"Tsk…"

She slung her leg back over Jaune's lap and sat down again, resuming her position from earlier and maintaining her threatening eye contact.

"Remember to be back at your allotted time to get your makeup done, Mushnik. Don't think Traci or I'll be this nice to you, though."

She grabbed Jaune around the neck and pulled his face forward, directly into her chest. He made a noise somewhere in his throat as he panicked, unable to move or breathe, as it turned out. She let him go and let his back fall against the chair again, grabbing her brush once more. She broke eye contact and returned her face to the softness we were used to and continued to apply the copious amounts of face paint to poor Jaune.

Now, for a ninth grader, Emmy was… let's say blessed with certain features that some of us hadn't developed or fully developed quite yet. I'm not gonna say like Salma Hayek blessed, but for a fourteen year old, she was the envy of most of the other students in our grade, myself included. But also Sasha, the senior who was playing Audrey, the coworker of Jaune's Seymour. I remember Sasha being pretty, sure, but I always remember he looking like she was still in like, grade seven or eight. A middle schooler, infiltrating the high school ranks. So in comparison to the early-blooming Emmy, Sasha wasn't exactly lining up to win Miss Canada 2003.

This must have upset poor, defenseless Chris, who swore something under his breath and stormed out, leaving a chuckling Jeremy just shaking his head and following him out, careful to close the door softly as he left.

"Fuckin' asshole."

I bit my lip so as to not laugh at the proceedings. Jaune luckily spoke for me.

"Uhm, I'm not sure what to do with all that… stuff that just happened."

"Take it as a learning experience, Jaune. Being a pleasant human being means that everyone is accepting of you and treats you with respect. Like Weiss, for example. But being a loathsome piece of pond scum like Chris means nobody has to respect you."

"I'm… glad I'm not pond scum, I guess."

"Jaune, you're fine. Pucker for me?"

"You're not gonna try and kiss me again, are you?"

She chuckled, holding up a tube of pink lipstick.

"No, but I do need to put this on you so you actually have a mouth under the floods."

"Right."

As she was applying the lipstick, I popped my trumpet mouthpiece off and pressed it to my lips, buzzing out the opening theme to The Muppet Show for a moment. Emmy looked sideways at me with an amused look in her eye. I grinned back and picked up my trumpet, sliding the mouthpiece in.

"Weiss, don-"

I played the little 'It's time to put on makeup' part of the melody, adding in a few trills. Emmy rolled her eyes with a grin.

"Idiot."

"What, we were all thinking it."

"Yeah, and you had to play it."

I just shrugged and continued with the melody, flaring out the lines of music with trills and added style. I eventually broke through Emmy's little wall and made her chuckle and drop her lipstick in between Jaune's legs. I stopped playing just before the Waldorf and Statler part.

"Why do we always come here?" I sang quietly, doing a gravely voiced Waldorf impression.

Jaune caught on quickly, dropping his throat and singing Statler's part. "I guess we'll never know."

"It's like a kind of torture," I continued, stopping and looking to Emmy. So did Jaune, his eye rife with anticipation.

She just looked at us like we were two idiots. I mean, yeah we were, but that wasn't the point today. She put her face into her hand and leaned her elbow on to the chair's armrest. We goaded her again, and I gestured for her to continue the lyric.

She just chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?"

I nodded, a doofy smile on my face. "Yeah, really."

She sighed dramatically into her hand and mumbled the lyric out. "To have to watch the show."

Jaune and I cheered quietly, and I brought my trumpet back up and continued the melody, firing away loudly with the recently re-tuned bronze bell. Emmy elected to ignore my musical talents and focus on Jaune's makeup, dabbing away the excess lipstick with a folded tissue. Just as I was about to finish the theme, however, I was interrupted.

"Hey!"

I lowered my instrument and turned to look. Mr. Gee was standing in the doorway, a look on his face.

"Don't play music in the drama room. That's what the music room is for."

"Sorry, Mr. Gee. Can I finish the lick, though?"

"No, don't practice in here, it scares the theatre nerds."

We all had a quiet chuckle.

"Sorry, sir."

"Go find the pit band, I'm sure they're looking for you."

"Yes, Mr. Gee."

He stepped out with a smack of his tongue and darted off in search of other students to wrangle. I turned back to my crew with a my tongue between my teeth and slowly raised my trumpet to my lips again. Emmy shook her head and reached out, gently lowering the end back down again. I relented and set the instrument down on its bell, pulling the mouthpiece out. I thought for a moment on what Mr. Gee had said, turning my chair to face Em.

"So you know where Sasha is, right?"

"Yeah, downstage left talking to the director. She's been there for an hour."

I laughed, and so did two other students listening in on the conversation.

"Of course you know where she is."

"Yeah, I know where everyone is, I'm a production supervisor. It's my job to make sure no one runs off or touches their face and messes up all the hard work I put into them."

"You coulda just told him."

"Yeah, but, would you have?"

I chuckled, putting my trumpet back into its case.

"I suppose not."

"Exactly. Act like a bitch, get treated like a bitch, simple as that. There, I think i'm done. Trace, wanna come take a look at this?"

The other makeup artist, a senior by the name of Traci, stepped away from her desk and came over, a paintbrush covered in pink blush powder between her teeth. She grabbed Jaune by the cheeks and forced his face around, checking the paint for uniformity. Man, a lot of girls were doing that lately. She seemed to shrug.

"Sh'good. Glashesh?"

Emmy grabbed the massive old man spectacles from behind herself and folded them open, handing them to Jaune. He put them on his face, settling the pads on his nose so they wouldn't carve gouges into the multiple layers of concealer and flick it into his eyes. The last thing any of them needed was for him to get pink eye two hours before the show.

"Perfect. Absolutely beautiful."

Emmy smiled and got up, grabbing a cloth from behind her to wiper her hands off with. I recognized the pungent smell of rubbing alcohol and vinegar, a solution of Em's own design that worked absolutely wonders to peel makeup off of skin far better than any off the shelf remover product. It made your face smell like pub food, but it worked.

"Go on, say a line." Em prompted.

"I've been reading lines for three weeks."

"Not in costume, you haven't." I interjected, jabbing him in the ribs.

He sighed. "Fine, if you insist."

"We insist."

He hunched his shoulders forward and pushed his lips out, picking up the tub of concealer like it was a flower pot. I have to say, he very much looked like a blond Rick Moranis, with all the bobby pins holding his hair in place.

"'Hi, Audrey, you look radiant today… is that new eye makeup?'"

"Perfect, he's ready. Go do you your vocal exercises with the rest of the cast, I've got more people to abuse."

Em shooed him off with a wave of her hand, reaching back over to my head and grabbing her hat back. I let her have it. Jaune skipped off to the backstage door, off to find the director and the rest of the troupe to practice with for the remaining time. He turned and waved as he got to the door.

"Break a leg!" I called after him.

"Break both of them." Emmy chided.

Jaune winked back at me, smiling cheerfully.

"I'll compromise, one and a half."

"Deal."

He left, shutting the stage door quietly. Emmy huffed and crossed her arms, grabbing her clipboard with names on it. A list of names of the other actors who were up to be painted. She grabbed her pen and scratched Jaune's name off the list, scoffing and tossing it down on the counter.

"Fuck. Trace, you're gonna do Chris."

"Fuff mo!" the other girl said, her mouth full of bobby pins.

"Hey, if he sits in that chair, I'm doing his makeup with bruises."

"Uhhhhff."

"Thanks, Trace." She gestured to me, pointing her thumb out the the stage door. "C'mon, you're gonna help me."

"Cool, what with?" I asked, latching my case closed and picking it up.

"We're gonna go up top."

"Wait, don't you have more makeup to do?"

She shrugged. "Nah, not for another half hour. I got Jaune's done pretty quickly in comparison."

She led me out through the stage door and hung a sharp right, to a hidden door just next to the mic box on the wall. The dim light of the backstage area was dark enough to not quite be able to see the maze of patch cords and stage props that I managed to bump into all of. She pulled out her keyring and opened the hidden door and pointed inside. To literally just a ladder.

"Oh. What's this?"

"Catwalk. Go on up."

I looked to her, confused. "Uh, you sure?"

"Well I'm not going up first, you'll see up my skirt."

"What, you not wearing underwear?" I teased with a smirk. She just rolled her eyes at me. I knew she always wore black spandex shorts underneath skirts and dresses, something I eventually learned to copy.

"Ugh, just go up the ladder, Dummy."

"Alright, alright."

So up we went, the cold steel ladder freezing my hands. I pulled myself up onto the catwalk and turned to pull my friend up too. The catwalk was completely dark, as the theatre house lights didn't reach up to the ceiling where we were.

"Damn, this is neat. Should we even be up here?"

"Yeah, we're in the stage crew. I have a key."

"This feels like the kind of thing I'm not supposed to see."

"It's cool, c'mon."

I followed her along the skinny catwalk over the top of the stage. I felt a little precarious, holding onto the railings. We passed by one of Emmy's friends, Ryan, who was busy dealing with a follow spot not cooperating on its mount. We ended up on the part of the catwalk that ran laterally across the area above the theatre seats. Em sat down and slung her legs over the edge. I sat next to her, crossing my legs underneath me.

"Hey, look. It's Jaune." I said, pointing down at him quietly. "He really does look the part."

Him and Sasha were doing a bit from the musical, specifically the 'Suddenly, Seymour" number to just a backing piano. I know that I should have been down in the band pit at least preparing for the show, but I really didn't feel like it. Jaune's voice carried its way up to the rafters even without the mics they had to wear.

Emmy shrugged. "Sounds the part, too."

"This is cool."

"Yeah…" she trailed off. I looked over.

"What's up?"

Another of her famous sighs. "It's nothing important."

I noticed she seemed preoccupied by the acting going on on the stage. I followed her line of sight down to see her staring intently at Jaune. It took me a few moments to realize why.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"It's fine, you're allowed. You're only human."

Em smiled and put her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sure I'll grow out of it in a bit. Hell, I'm pretty certain of it. It's him, after all."

I tried to hide how hard I was clenching my fists.

"Well, do you have anyone else on the horizon?"

She sighed and leaned back on her arms. "Yeah, I guess. There's still Andrew."

"He break up with his girlfriend yet?"

"Yesterday."

"Then swoop in!"

She shrugged.

"Nah, I'm okay. I'll wait. It'd be rude to infringe on him and be a rebound for him, that's trashy."

"Yeah, in hindsight that's pretty trashy."

She bumped me in the side, pointing down at the stage.

"Can you be honest with me?"

"Yeah, Em, of course."

"You like Jaune, right?"

I sniffed, and looked away.

"Yeah, a little."

"Just a little?"

I chuckled.

"Fuck off, Em. You know how I feel about him."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I put my arm around her and pulled her over.

"It's cool, Em."

It was not cool, Em. I had competition.

And competition with Emerald? That was not a competition I could win.

Shit.

But let me just say, the musical went off without a hitch.