Oops! The Bad Boy Is My Drama Partner

Chapter 1: Natural disaster. Clare’s POV All eyes were on me. Dozens of them. Whispers filled the air, snickering, giggling and whatnot. I could feel their mocking eyes on me, waiting for me to do something stupid for their amusement. This had to be a mistake. “Clare?” “Clare!” My eyes snapped to the Professor, Professor Adella, standing in the front row with a small frown etched on her face as she gripped the clipboard tightly. “Begin,” she said, tapping her pen against the board. “We don’t have all day.” Begin what? I stared at her, then at the crowd. I wanted to open my mouth to explain that I didn’t want to be here, that I didn’t want to do this and worst of all, that I didn’t want to be the laughing stock of the entire Campus again but her stern face told me that she didn’t care for any of that. “Go on,” Professor Adella urged, raising a brow. “The stage is yours.” I parted my lips, my mouth felt extremely dry. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I hadn’t signed up for anything. I didn’t even like plays—okay, that was a lie—but the last time I tried acting was in fifth grade back in the Crescent pack, when I cried mid-line and ruined the entire production of Peter Pan. I had quit and promised myself never again. So how the hell had I magically auditioned? Earlier that day I woke up before my alarm, eyes snapping open to the faint light slipping through my curtains. For once, I wasn’t dreading Campus. Today, I was bringing cupcakes for my English presentation—simple vanilla with strawberry frosting, sprinkled with sugar hearts. I’d baked them last night, my first solo attempt since Mom passed. I didn’t know why something so small felt like a big deal, but it did. Maybe because since mom died, I didn’t try to touch anything that resembled flour because it reminded me of the reality that my mother was truly gone. Downstairs, I heard Dad yelling at his hockey team through the phone, as usual. Coach Kingsley never stopped coaching, even at seven in the morning. “Connor, if you miss one more practice, I’ll have you running laps till graduation!” he barked. I smiled to myself. Some dads read the newspaper in the morning. Mine shouted about penalties. I glanced at the framed photo on my nightstand—Mom, holding me as a toddler at one of Dad’s games. I touched the glass lightly, a small habit I couldn’t break, then got ready. By the time I went downstairs, Dad was already halfway through a protein shake, red whistle hanging around his neck like always. “Morning, Darling,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “Morning, Dad,” I replied, carefully setting the cupcakes into a box. “Those for Campus?” “Yeah. Presentation today.” He nodded distractedly. “Nice. You’re gonna crush it, Darling.” “Don’t forget your lunch!” His voice floated from the kitchen as I scrambled to the door. “Of course, I will!” I shouted back, tugging my hair into a ponytail that was definitely crooked but good enough. Dad appeared in the doorway, face creased in worry. “You said that yesterday, and your lunch ended up in the fridge till midnight. Should I be worried?” I grinned weakly. “Nope.I was busy studying and I forgot.” “You can talk to me, you know?” I nodded. “Yeah, I know. But there’s nothing to talk about, Dad.” I muttered, slipping into my sneakers. He sighed the only thing he could do. “Eat something, at least.” “Fine, I'd get a toast.” I offered, already halfway down the stairs. He grumbled something about poor eating habits, but I was out the door before he could launch into his daily “balanced diet” lecture. Maggie’s old blue car was parked by the curb, music blasting through the rolled-down window. She leaned out, waving. “Whoa, what’s with the new jeans?” she commented when I climbed in. “I’m just trying something new,” I replied but we both knew this had nothing to do with a sudden change of taste. I had passed by Betty and her group of girls and they’d snickered and called my usual skirts ugly. So maybe I was a little self-conscious of the things I liked now. She shook her head and handed me a canned drink. I raised it to my lips only to discover it was empty. I nudged her and she just threw her head back laughing. “Big day today, huh?” she teased. “What big day?” She shrugged. “Dunno. People seemed excited about something in the group chat. Some epic whatever.” I groaned. “Probably Betty throwing another one of her queen-bee tantrums.” Maggie snorted. “She does love an audience.” We made it to Campus, and everything felt… good. I got compliments from the nerds and surprisingly other people about my jeans and even though Maggie felt like it seemed forced and weird, I relished them. She was just thinking too much because of the mean things they’d said to me in the past and how they always treated me. She was quite protective but this shouldn’t ring the alarm bell. I didn’t think much of it. And I should have. I tucked my cupcake box tighter under my arm and made my way to my hall Cubby, hoping to stay invisible. I’d gotten pretty good at that—moving quietly and not drawing attention to myself. The Red Heart boys were stationed, as always, at their usual table near the dining hall windows. Christian Flannel—team captain, Alpha heir, golden hair with the kind of face that made half the girls in Campus doodle his name in their notebooks with hearts—sat right in the center. He was laughing at something one of his teammates said, dimples deep and eyes shining. Maggie dropped her tray beside me, nearly spilling chocolate milk on me. “Seriously, Clare?” she teased, following my gaze. “If you stare any harder, he’s gonna melt.” “I wasn’t staring.” Okay, maybe I was. But only for a second. “Sure. And I’m secretly dating Prince William.” I snorted. “You’d be a terrible royal.” “Please. I’d make history,” she said proudly, stabbing her salad. Then her voice softened. “You should talk to him, you know.” “Yeah, right. And then what? He’ll ask me to join the cheer squad?” “Or maybe he’ll just realize Coach Westbrook’s daughter isn’t as invisible as she thinks.” I smiled, but didn’t answer. Maggie always said things like that and it was mostly to make me feel better. She’d been my best friend since second grade, the only one who’d ever really seen me. The only one who didn’t treat me like an extension of my dad’s whistle. We ate lunch quietly while the boys continued their loud chaos. Every now and then, Christian’s voice cut through my haze of thoughts. I tried not to notice when he laughed, or when his hand brushed through his hair, or when his gaze briefly swept across the dining hall once and landed on me. My stomach twisted so fast I looked down immediately. Maggie caught it, of course. “You’re so gone for him.” “I am not.” She grinned. “Fine, fine. Whatever you say. But when you’re Mrs. Flannel, I expect a front-row seat at the wedding.” The distant chime from the campus clock echoed through the hall before I could respond, and I just gave her the stink eye as we went to lecture. After lunch, English lecture dragged on, my cupcakes safely tucked away in the Professor’s fridge. I was halfway through doodling vines along the edges of my notebook when Professor Adella clapped her hands. “As you all know,” she said brightly, “auditions for this year’s spring play, Hearts in the Rain, are now open. Some names were submitted in advance.” The hall erupted. Some groaned lightly, while some leaned forward in excitement amongst them was Maggie, who leaned forward like it was Christmas. Theatrics was Maggie’s thing, not mine— well, kinda—and even now her eyes were sparkling. “So, let's move to the theatre hall,” Professor Adella continued. I followed with the rest of the lecture grudgingly, my stomach sinking with every step. Professor Adella stood at the front of the rows, scanning her clipboard. One after the other, people came out to audition for their roles. Some were extremely brilliant, while some needed work to be done. “And now, for our leading female role, our first audition is…” She paused, then looked up, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Cla.. Clare Westbrook!” For a full three seconds, I didn’t move. Maggie nudged me. “That’s you.” “No, it’s not.” “Yes, it is.” No. There must be someone else answering the same name as me. Professor Adella looked directly at me. “Okay, come on Clare, we don’t have much time.” BACK TO THE PRESENT Everyone started clapping. It wasn’t the encouraging kind of clap, either. It was the kind that said we can't wait to watch you fail. As I stumbled toward the stage, my eyes darted around the hall and landed on Betty Mae who was smiling like she’d just won the lottery. “Um…” My voice cracked. Somewhere in the audience, someone whispered, “Is she crying already?” and laughter bubbled through the crowd. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, and when I opened them again, I tried to act like I wasn’t burning in anxiety. “Jacob?” I blurted, looking at some random boy in the second row. Professor Adella had already returned to her seat. My eyes watered as I kept staring at him. He looked around, thinking I wasn’t talking to him, and I could understand his shock. I’m not sure his name was even Jacob. My voice trembled. “I know I told you that I’d love you to the end…” My throat tightened. “But I can’t keep living knowing you’d leave the earth before me.” I took two steps forward and placed a hand on my chest. “Don’t worry.” I gave him a small, teary smile. “You always said I looked like an angel. I guess this time, I’ll actually be one.” His eyes softened and more tears spilled from mine. “Okay, that’s enough!” Professor Adella yelled and I stopped, turning to her. She rose from her seat and began to clap really slowly in the silent hall, the sound bouncing around. After a moment, everyone joined in. “That was the most beautiful performance I have ever seen,” she said. Just as I was about to smile back, I felt eyes pricking behind me. Betty. Betty Mae. Standing on the stage now, with the applause dying and Professor Adella basking in my “performance,” I finally pieced it together. Betty had signed me up. Betty, who was my number one biggest tormentor. Betty, who’d said acting was her thing. Betty, who’d clearly decided today was perfect to make me the Campus’s laughing stock. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, I just stood there and gave the fakest smile I could muster. Professor Adella clapped once more. “A natural talent,” she declared. I glanced at Betty. Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes promised hell. Natural talent? Yeah. Sure. Natural disaster was more like it.