Taste a Thousand Deaths (Marionettes of Myth #3)

Chapter Three

"All right, that's good for today. Rosette, may I speak to you?"

As Helen's order echoed through the auditorium, Troy recovered Rosette's crutches from the left wing of the school's stage. She dragged her full-casted leg half a step to claim her prize with a smile that turned him pink. "See you tomorrow, Perchik," she said.

He nodded, simpering as he rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah. Later, Hodel."

The other cast members cleared from the stage, but not without Rosette noticing a few of the girls sending her less than appreciative glowers. She ignored them and limped toward stage director Helen. "What's up?"

Helen jabbed at her notepad. Legibility and handwriting didn't go together with her. "I'd like to start blocking 'Now I Have Everything' tomorrow. Have you put in your extra vocal training with Malia?"

"Yeah, I came last Saturday while choir was training, and I've put in hours before class every morning."

"Good." Her head bobbed. "It's going to be a dance number, so I'll have to substitute Jaz until that plaster comes off your leg. But I still want you there retaining as much as you can, got it?"

Rosette's lips pressed together. Watching Jaz attempt to usurp her role was not something she wanted to snap Polaroids of to keep forever. Eating a tub of black licorice through her nose would have been more pleasant, but she ran her tongue over her teeth, shifted the crutches beneath her sore pits, and forced another winning smile. "Totally. I'll at least be singing the part, right?"

"I want to make sure the both of you know it well enough." An arrow speared Rosette's chest. "Just to be on the safe side. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll come out just fine, mm? Get some rest. Take it easy." Helen's heavy hand dropped onto Rosette's shoulder.

She had to suppress a grimace from the pressure of the crutches as the air wheezed out of her. "Thanks, Helen. See you tomorrow."

Rosette swung her crutches around and sailed past the curtains. The usual cinderblock propped open the door at the end of the wing, a patch of harsh fluorescent light that guided her into the hall just outside the cast room, where everyone stored their stuff during rehearsal. The door was open only a sliver, and she shifted her weight and hugged the crutch to her body to reach for the knob—

"I don't even get it. Like, she's so overrated. I don't get why everyone's so in love with her. She doesn't even sing that well."

"Seriously. So what if she got messed up from the shit that happened with the freeways? Poor, precious little snowflake, everyone falls over themselves to give her special treatment."

Rosette's hand lingered above the tarnished brass knob, her distorted reflection staring back.

"Whatever. I'm totally over it. Hel'll see the way I work it tomorrow and make the obvious decision that I'm the better Hodel. Like, seriously, how much fucking money do my parents have to donate to this fucking school, anyway?"

Rosette's gaze dropped to the side, seeing right through the ugly beige linoleum floor. Maybe it would have been better for her to wobble quietly off to the side and wait for them to finish touching up their makeup or whatever they were doing. Then, when they left, they wouldn't see her, and they wouldn't ever have to know that Rosette had heard them.

Screw that.

She planted the rubber stumps of her crutches against the floor and swung her leg cast into the door with a bang. The hinges buckled as the door blasted open, and Jasmine and Annete ripped away from the floodlight of the mirrors, lip gloss and mascara in their respective hands.