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talent.”
    “Uh-huh,” Amanda says, as if she doesn’t believe me.
    Trevor pushes his hair out of his face as Ms. Sharp passes him a copy of the script. He reads for the lead first. After the last line wherehe begs Maria to stay, he looks up with pleading in his deep brown eyes.
    I remind myself that he’s been “talking” to Gabby—and probably more—and if we were together, that’s exactly what we’d be fighting about right now. “So . . . he was perfect,” I say in the most measured tone possible.
    “I don’t know,” Amanda says. “I think Harrison did just as well. And Trevor’s so full of himself.” She glances at me. “Sorry, Case, but you know that’s true.”
    There’s a fine line between self-centeredness and confidence—and I’m never sure exactly where that line is. “Maybe it is, but he’s still the best singer in this school. Harrison is really good, but he doesn’t scream Captain von Trapp.”
    “Hey!” Harrison complains. “Your friend Harrison. I’m sitting right here. You know, the guy who let you copy his chem homework all last year? The one you spilled Mountain Dew on at the zoo in fifth grade and then all the goats kept trying to lick me?”
    “Sorry, Harrison,” I say.
    “Trevor’s hot” is all Kelly has to say. “Am I allowed to say that?” she asks me.
    I shrug.
    Harrison looks like he’s been hit in the face. “And I’m not?”
    “Well . . .” Kelly says.
    Harrison slumps back into his seat. “I need to find some new friends. Maybe I should go sit with the Grimaldi twins. At least Johnny and Steve-o might appreciate me.”
    “We love you, Gunther Engelbert,” I say in my best Grimaldi-twin Jersey accent. “Besides, you’re too short and skinny to hang out with Johnny and Steve-o.” Also, after having been forced to spend time with them by virtue of being with Trevor, I’m pretty sure Steve-o’s after-school “job” is both illegal and very lucrative. And that’s not exactly Harrison’s scene. I don’t even know why they’re in the theater right now—it’s not like they’d be caught dead trying out for the musical. But there they are, stretched out like two oily shadows next to Trevor and Gabby.
    “I really need some new friends,” Harrison grumbles.
    “Is that the last person?” Amanda asks as a tiny freshman steps down from the stage.
    A tall guy with messy-spiky dark hair and a Pink Floyd T-shirt strides past us down the aisle and approaches Ms. Sharp.
    “Maybe not,” I say. “Who is that? He looks familiar.”
    The guy says something to Ms. Sharp, she says something back, and he bounds up the stairs to the stage.
    “Oh, wait! That’s Silent Hollywood Guy!” Kelly says, sitting up straighter.
    “Who?” Amanda asks.
    “Hey—I ran into him in the hall yesterday.” I remember him now. The one who wouldn’t say anything to me. “He is silent.”
    “Yeah, everyone says he’s from California, but I’ve never heard him talk,” Kelly says. “I think he moved here over the summer.”
    Who in their right mind would move from California to Podunk Holland, Indiana?
    “What’s his real name?” Amanda asks.
    “No idea,” Kelly says.
    Silent Hollywood Guy sings “One Song Glory” from Rent . I guess he’s not so silent after all. Ms. Sharp has him read for several parts, which he does with a loud, ringing voice.
    “I’m in love with him now,” Kelly says. “He’s so much cuter when he talks. Do you think he has a girlfriend? Do you think he’s in a band? He looks like he should be in a band. Do you think he’ll give Trevor a run for the lead?”
    Harrison shakes his head and mutters something about the Grimaldi twins. Silent Hollywood Guy finishes and steps down from the stage. His beat-up tennis shoes make a muffled swishing sound as he shuffles down the carpeted aisle to his seat.
    “Thank you for coming,” Hannah starts, but as usual, she’s interrupted by Ms. Sharp. Why we even have a student director is beyond