Chapter 2
1305 Words
Survive the Spotlight? Maybe Next Time.
Maya didn’t stop running until she was out of breath and out of sight. She barely remembered pushing open the side doors of the auditorium or stumbling past the science wing, but somehow, she ended up behind the gym—hidden from everyone but her shame.
She dropped to the pavement, back pressed against the cool brick wall, and tried to breathe past the lump in her throat.
Juliet.
They made her Juliet.
Not because they believed in her. Not because she auditioned. But because she was the punchline to a joke she didn’t even get to hear.
Her hands were still shaking. The script had long since slipped from her grip, forgotten somewhere between the stage and her flight.
She didn’t cry atleast not yet.
Footsteps crunched nearby. “Maya?” It was Faith. Of course it was Faith.
Maya quickly swiped at her eyes anyway. “Don’t.”
Faith crouched beside her, breathing hard like she’d been running too. “That was messed up.”
Maya gave a hollow laugh. “You think?”
“I’m gonna kill them,” Faith said. “All of them. Starting with Josh.”
“Don’t bother, That’s what they want. A reaction.”
Faith sat beside her. “You gave them one. You ran.”
Maya flinched. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Faith sighed, softer this time. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Silence stretched between them.
“You think Jace was in on it?” Maya finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Faith hesitated. “I don’t know, he didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look smug either.”
“He didn’t look anything.” Maya closed her eyes. “He just… watched.”
That hurt more than anything. The summer had meant something. To her, at least. Maybe it was just a game to him.
She hated that the thought still made her chest ache.
---
Three Months Ago
Theater was supposed to be safe.
She’d only signed up to volunteer because she needed something—anything—to escape the weight of her own self-consciousness. Maya didn’t belong on stage. She didn’t belong in the limelight or the crowd or the yearbook pages with “Most Likely To…”
But backstage? Hidden in the curtains and paint-splattered floorboards? That felt doable.
She’d walked into the community theater for the first time clutching her tote bag and nerves, thinking she’d be stuffing programs or gluing feathers to some ridiculous costume. What she hadn’t expected—what no one prepared her for—was him.
Jace West.
He was already there, perched on the edge of the stage with his ever-present leather jacket and untouchable aura. He hadn’t seen her at first. He’d been laughing—actually laughing—with a little girl from the kids’ cast, letting her braid colored string into his wrist.
Maya had frozen.
She knew who he was. Everyone knew Jace West. Bad boy, heartbreaker, walking rumor mill. The kind of boy who smoked behind the library and had a different girl at every football game. The kind of boy girls dared each other to talk to. The kind of boy Maya watched from a distance and hated herself for being curious about.
She’d assumed he was shallow. Arrogant. The type of guy who wouldn’t look twice at someone like her.
But that summer, he did look. And he kept looking.
At first, it was small things. A nod when she passed, a smirk when he caught her humming to herself while painting backdrops. Then—suddenly—real conversations.
He surprised her.
He was quieter than she expected, Smarter, too. He made sarcastic observations that made her laugh when she didn’t want to. He helped her carry things without being asked. He remembered little things she said—her favorite show, the way she liked her coffee, the fact that she always brought her own paintbrush.
He never mentioned her weight.
He never looked at her like she was a project.
And Maya, who had built walls so carefully, found herself leaning a little too close. Smiling a little too wide. Hoping a little too much.
She thought he might like her.
Or at least—she thought he didn’t see her as a joke.
So when she walked into auditions two weeks ago, just to observe, and saw him again—this time with a script in hand—it felt like the universe was giving her a second chance.
Maybe she’d been wrong about him.
Maybe the girl who’d hidden all her life could be a little brave.
When the drama teacher said they needed one more volunteer for warm-up readings, Maya’s hand had lifted before she could stop it.
Jace had looked up then.
And smiled.
She should’ve known better.
---
Present Day
“I’m so stupid,” Maya whispered.
“You’re not.” Faith’s voice was steel. “They are.”
“I thought he was different.”
Faith said nothing. But her silence screamed agreement.
They sat there for a while, letting the hurt settle into their bones. The wind rustled a plastic water bottle nearby, and for a moment, it was the only sound.
Then voices—loud, laughing—drifted around the corner.
“Did you see her face?” Sienna’s syrupy drawl echoed against the walls.
“I almost lost it when she said, ‘Romeo,’ like she meant it!” Josh’s snort followed.
“Bet she thought she’d get a kiss scene with Jace. Poor cow.”
“Best prank ever. I swear, when you dared me to put her name down—”
“You actually did it, though! Legendary!”
Faith stood so fast Maya flinched.
“Faith—wait—”
But it was too late.
Faith stormed around the corner, eyes blazing. “Hey!”
The laughter stopped.
Sienna blinked. “Oh. It’s you.”
“I dare you to say one more thing about Maya.” Faith’s fists were clenched. “Just one.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Relax. It was just a joke.”
“A joke?” Faith stepped closer. “Public humiliation is funny to you?”
Sienna crossed her arms. “She doesn’t belong on stage.”
“She belongs wherever the hell she wants,” Faith shot back. “Unlike you, she doesn’t need cruelty to feel important.”
Josh opened his mouth to reply—but stopped when another voice cut in.
“Enough.”
Jade, the theater director, appeared behind them, arms folded, eyes sharp.
Sienna and Josh paled.
“Congratulations,” Jade said dryly. “You’ve just earned yourselves permanent backstage duty for the rest of the semester. And an apology. Public. Tomorrow morning.”
“What?” Josh protested.
“I can also speak to the principal, if you’d prefer.”
They fell silent.
Jade turned to Faith and Maya. Her tone softened. “You okay?”
Maya nodded stiffly, though her throat still ached.
“I’m sorry this happened,” Jade said, then looked Maya in the eye. “And for the record, I saw your reading. You’ve got something.”
Maya blinked.
Jade smiled—just a little. “If you’re up for it, I’d like to help.”
Maya stared. “Help?”
“With the play. Coaching. Confidence. Maybe even costume input, if you’re feeling ambitious.”
“I—” Maya hesitated. “Why?”
“Because talent deserves a spotlight,” Jade said simply. “And because I think it’s time they got used to seeing someone real on that stage.”
Faith grinned. “Told you.”
Maya didn’t speak.
But for the first time since the prank, she looked up—and dared to hope.
- Writer
