Bianca Torre Is Afraid of Everything, page 26
“Bianca?” Devon Hart, the stage manager, mouths as she sees me.
“I was never here,” I whisper.
She’s too focused on other stuff, throws her hands up, and lets me continue.
I wait by the wings. Once Kate exits the stage and comes back behind these curtains, I’ll grab her. Even better if they go to black for a transition.
I try to peer around the curtain to see if she’s anywhere near me.
And then I’m yanked into the large storage room backstage, a hand tight over my mouth as the door gently and silently closes.
“You’re like a damn cockroach,” Ms. Richards says. “We can’t get rid of you.”
Thirty-Three
Exit, Pursued by a Bird
My heart is in my throat as I look up at Ms. Richards. She’s dressed impeccably for the performance in a silky low-cut jumpsuit and heels. Her hair is tied in a loose updo and her lips are bloodred.
My stomach lurches. Even though I saw the picture of her with Jillian, I didn’t want to actually believe that she was involved. But there’s no denying it now.
And as scared as I am, I’m hurt too.
“Well, it’s not for lack of trying,” I say. “Real team effort in teenage-kid murder.”
Which is why I don’t have the time to be doing this now. Not when Jillian is probably about to shoot my sister.
She blocks my path to the door.
Ms. Richards smiles. “Might as well put an end to it now.” She rolls her eyes. “Jillian doesn’t have it in her.”
Didn’t seem that way when she ran up to the tech booth with a loaded freaking weapon.
“You actually believe that?” I ask. “That you will be birds in another life?”
“Absolutely not. The rest of them really got into it, though. Insane, isn’t it?” Ms. Richards frowns. “I do, however, believe in the money it makes me. And I love Jillie. She’s a nut, but I love her.”
I almost feel bad for Jillian. Or, at least, I would if she didn’t kidnap me and wasn’t about to kill Kate.
Ms. Richards’s little laugh twists into a grimace as she goes on. “She actually cared about you. If you weren’t the neighbor of that nosy loser I killed, I think she would’ve convinced you to join. She’s been planning it for months. She adores you.” Her eyes catch mine. “Which is why I should kill you now.”
Not only do I have to save my sister, I have to get away from this woman.
But the words escape out of me. “You killed Mr. Conspiracy?”
“The weird guy with the Post-its on his wall?” She pulls out a knife, like the one she used on him, from her purse and tosses the handbag aside. “Let’s say I did.”
I need to do something. I’m not sure I can outrun her. I have to open the door, but she’s directly in the way. There’s nothing around me I can easily grab—the closest thing is an old costume rack.
“All the conversations we had were fake?”
Ms. Richards steps closer, cornering me. I back up, and the hanging fabrics brush against me. She’s nearly within reach, but I’m unarmed. I can’t get to any of the bins of props or old set pieces lining the walls.
“Of course,” Ms. Richards says. “Like I care about you and your little gender issues.”
A bit of anger rises in me, but it’s hard for the frustration to overtake my fear. I can’t die back here, though. Kate is counting on me. Mr. Conspiracy is counting on me.
My friends are counting on me.
And I’ve never even had my first kiss.
What would Anderson do? What would Zoro or Luffy do?
As she starts to lunge forward, I snap one of the heavy dresses off the rack and toss it over her head. Her hands go up and I shift into fighting stance. Her momentary blindness gives me enough time to bend my knees and twist my hips to send a straight cross right to her belly. I’m not the strongest, but it lands, and the knife clatters to the floor as her breath expels.
I quickly reset and send a hook right to the side of her face.
Once I make contact, I drop to pick up the knife, whip open the door, and run out of the closet.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
A quick laugh escapes out of me, although that falls when I see Mr. Hawthorne from GLAOE—or, I guess, the Flock—preventing my backstage exit.
Which means there’s only one way to go, especially because I hear Kate speaking in her Audrey voice on stage. I rush to the wings, knife in my hands. Cory starts his line, about two feet away from me, but Kate is all the way on stage left.
I run out onto the stage and shove Cory into the wings, out of the line of fire. Gasps sound from the crowd, and audience members erupt into murmurs.
The opening notes of “Suddenly Seymour” play. The big duet between Audrey and the male lead, Seymour.
Kate’s eyes widen as she sees me, but otherwise she stays relatively in character. I look at her for a second, body frozen. I’m completely visible on stage.
I’m completely visible on stage.
Mom and Kate are going to kill me. But as long as they’re alive to do it . . .
I quickly stick the knife in the waistband of my pants and hope it doesn’t cut me.
I can’t look toward the audience, who are audibly confused, although the stage lights are too bright to confirm it. It’s certainly impossible to see what’s going on in the tech booth.
And I’m visible. On stage. In front of everyone.
Fear #1 (tied): Public Speaking/Humiliation
It probably isn’t a good idea to completely panic.
Before I know what I’m doing, I start singing the lyrics of the song. I’ve had to say the lines to Kate a billion times before.
It’s hard to tell who is more surprised at my shaky but strong voice, my sister in her bright blond wig, or me.
As I continue through the lyrics, both hoping and not hoping that I’m loud enough, I grab Kate, and pull her in a weird kind of sightseeing dance tour that zigzags around the stage. She really excels at the whole Meisner “take the first thing” or whatever, because she goes along with it, probably making the awkward movements seem a little more planned.
As Kate takes over singing, I lead her behind set pieces that might not necessarily stop a bullet, but might at least make Jillian hesitate. As much as I’d love to run offstage with her, that probably would cause a panic, and even if I have a knife, there’s Mr. Hawthorne and a pissed-off Ms. Richards in the stage-right wing. I also spot two cult members stage left.
They can’t do anything to us in front of a nearly full house. At least I hope not.
We go behind the flower shop counter, despite it keeping us from being in full view, and around Audrey II.
Kate was right. The puppet looks amazing—way better than the morph suit.
I try to keep us moving as much as possible. It’s not like the change in choreography really matters, I’m already ruining the show.
Despite trying to pay attention to the song, because I have to join in soon, my heart is pounding and my vision is spotty waiting in anticipation for a bullet to come spiraling at the two of us. Although part of that might be from being up here.
And the head wound. And potential drugs.
Well, there are a lot of reasons and I’m running on nothing but fear and the muscle memory of running lines and listening to this song with Kate.
The girls who are like the Greek chorus of the musical actually come out despite me making a mess of the show. I’ll have to thank the trio, Yoneta and the two underclassmen who I haven’t met, later for also going along with it, but I casually walk over to them with Kate still using the counter as a prop and get them to join in on constant movement.
I walk in front of the four of them, back and forth, although acting as a human shield for four people isn’t exactly the best option.
If Anderson figures this out, I’ll buy him Ben & Jerry’s for life.
Even though I want to throw up, I focus on keeping everyone on stage moving behind something to shield them.
The song reaches the end, and on the hold of the last note, a gunshot cracks through the auditorium.
A bit of glass cracks and showers stage left as one of the lights goes dark.
The music immediately stops, and a few screams sound. None of the audience members seem to know how to react.
Kate and Yoneta look at me with wide eyes and the two other girls are ducked on the ground. All of them seem okay. The light shattered at the other end of the stage and we’re closer to the right curtain.
A bit of relief passes through me, but it doesn’t last long, because most guns hold more than one bullet.
Someone yells from the back of the auditorium, where the tech booth is—followed by loud footsteps and a big thud.
There’s a long moment of silence. The stage lights are too bright to see what’s happening. I don’t know what to do without the music. I pull Kate closer to me behind the counter.
Suddenly, Anderson’s voice cuts through the air. “Aha. It is I, the vengeful brother of the dentist . . . the . . . orthodontist!” He’s walking up the center aisle, now holding the gun that Jillian had up high toward the ceiling. “I have come for revenge on Seymour!”
I wish I could better gauge the reaction to see if this really passes as part of the show. I don’t want the Flock or even the cops to put Anderson in danger because of this.
He climbs up on stage, shrugs at me as his back is toward the audience, and then pretends to slip. He gives an exaggerated and prolonged “ohhh!” as he gently hands off the gun to me and tumbles into the mouth of Audrey II.
Whoever plays that role goes along with it. “Delicious,” they say.
And the crowd claps and cheers, but I think that’s because everyone must love Anderson, regardless of what they think of the play.
Now I’m carrying an arsenal, and the back of my neck sweats. I want to get rid of the weapons, but then one of the cult members could run and pick the gun or knife up. I glance down at the gun. The magazine is missing, so Anderson must have taken it out before using it as a prop, which makes it slightly easier to hold.
It still burns in my hand and I really want it to go away.
The tech booth starts playing the curtain call music, and the rest of the cast runs out on stage. They go through the bows as police start filing in from the front. I glance to the side and see two officers grabbing Ms. Richards and Mr. Hawthorne.
I finally let out a breath.
I gently place the weapons on the floor, since I don’t really want to be seen holding them.
Anderson jogs from around the back and stands next to me.
I’m about to try to say something to him over the applause, but I don’t get the chance.
Kate and Cory grab a hand from each of us and pull us downstage along with them to join in on the bows.
The roar is deafening, and I can kind of see why people like my mom and Kate enjoy this.
I, however, feel my vision fade as I pass out for the second time today.
Thirty-Four
All’s Well That Ends Well
After I wake up and the paramedics patch me together on the stage, I lie down flat over the black surface. I could sleep for a week.
My mom rushes over to me.
“Oh, honey,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I manage to say through my dry throat.
“You were so good up there,” she goes on, “a much better singer than that Cory boy. Honestly, they should have you sing the song every night, your range is absolutely brilliant . . .”
“Mom,” I say. “Kate and I could have died.”
“You didn’t, though,” she says. “What you did do is steal the show.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Kate says from next to her.
“Oh, you were amazing, honey, but who knew Bianca could sing like that? We should really do an all-female production of this show. Or, oh my gosh, Wicked.”
My headache returns in full force. “Okay, next. Who’s next?”
Dad comes to my rescue by putting his arms around Mom and gently pulling her away. “Dear, she’s okay, let’s give her some space.” He gives me a wink. “Ti amo, Bianca.”
He usually doesn’t say it outright, so it’s kind of sweet that he did. The pronouns hurt, but not as much as my head, and I really had enough excitement without trying to start that conversation. As much as my dad works and doesn’t usually have the right words, he definitely understands what’s good for me as he pulls Mom away.
“Word on the street is you saved my life,” Kate says.
“Maybe I did,” I say. “Anderson, too.”
“I just thanked him.” She grins. “You’re the best sibling ever.”
Kate pulls me into a hug, squeezing a lot tighter than she usually would.
I sit up, since she kind of pulled me in that direction anyway.
Cory Kowalski stands upstage, where his mom is talking loudly to an officer about how money has been consistently diverted from the arts programs, there were strange volunteers working the show, and if they so much as look funny at Anderson or me, she’ll sue the entire LAPD.
It’s always good to have the blond rich white lady on your side.
“Is Cory mad?” I ask.
“Are you kidding?” Kate says. “You got him out of the line of fire. And don’t tell anyone, but he told me that you did sing the song better than him.”
I’m blushing now. “Don’t tell Mom.”
“No way,” Kate agrees. “And I take back the many bad things I’ve said about Cory Kowalski.”
We’re not really the kind of siblings that hug a lot, but Kate gives me another one. I guess almost dying is one way to change that. “But seriously, you were the coolest.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“The assistant stage manager and a girl on props said they heard Ms. Richards threaten you and admit she killed some guy. They already told the police, too.” Kate smiles. “By tomorrow, you’ll probably have a fan club.”
I roll my eyes and don’t bother responding to that part. “They got all the cult people then?”
“I think so,” Kate says. “But I doubt anyone else will get very far, especially not when you give them the evidence you found during questioning.”
Ugh. That’s the last thing I want to do right now, but if it will help, I should. I don’t know if I have a choice.
At the very least, Jillian and Ms. Richards are in police custody. I can probably start sleeping in my own room again.
Anderson walks over, some gauze taped to his head. “Look who’s alive.”
I groan. “Define alive.”
“Thanks again for saving my life,” Kate says to him. She turns back to me. “I’m going to make sure Mom gives you your space.”
She walks off, leaving me and Anderson.
“Paramedics said I’ll be good,” Anderson says, sitting down next to me.
“Same here.” I tap the bandages I now sport. “Relatively.”
“We might be sore tomorrow.”
I rub the side of my head gently. “Could be worse.” He gives a little laugh at that. I look over at him. “What was that?”
Anderson puts his good hand on my shoulder. “That, Bianca Torre, was us saving the day. Along with Elaine. And Ryan, who actually went to the cops first when we didn’t come back from the hike.” That helps explain why the police arrived so quickly. I’ll have to thank Ryan later.
Now that the adrenaline is gone, a wave of tears rushes out, but I also start laughing. Anderson joins in, and we laugh and cry for a few solid minutes. He scoots closer to me so I can lean my head on him.
“What happened on your end?” I ask.
Anderson lets out a long breath. “It was a lot of being threatened, but I feel like Jillian didn’t actually want to shoot anyone. I got her in a double leg and took the gun,” he says. “Probably broke my wrist again, but hey. That’s why you should try Jiu-Jitsu.”
I try not to look too proud of myself. “Well, I punched Ms. Richards.” I hold up my fingers to emphasize the point. “Twice.”
“That was you?” Anderson asks. “I saw her face, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”
“You were right,” I say. “I got a mean left hook.”
“My little person is growing up so fast,” Anderson says, squeezing his arm around my shoulders. “Rafael is going to be so proud. But you’re not getting out of taking his class anymore.”
“If I can stop a murderous cult, I can take a Jiu-Jitsu class,” I say, even though I’m not one hundred percent sure about that.
Anderson looks a little too excited.
“Maybe,” I add. “No promises.”
He chuckles again and falls back against the stage. “It’s been a wild few weeks, huh?”
I lie down next to him. The stage lights are dimmed, so it doesn’t hurt quite so much.
I feel like I’ve had enough happen since Mr. Conspiracy’s murder to pass a lifetime.
“That’s an understatement,” I say, head turned in his direction. “I did want to show you something though.”
He gives me a look. “Yeah?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out an envelope that thankfully survived. Along with a doodle of two birds, it reads BIANCA AND ANDERSON ANIME EXPO FUND. “Tickets for the summer don’t go on sale until February, so I couldn’t surprise you with them, but I’m going to help out my mom with filing and assignments to make some cash.”
His eyes look a little glassy, but it might be the adrenaline. Anderson pulls me into a hug.
“I’m so excited,” he says.
“Assuming you still want to go with me and not get some alone time with Layla,” I joke.
He pulls away, expression serious. “First, we can all go. Second, she’s going to be going in cosplay and I don’t want to be left alone while she’s taking pictures.”
“At least you can tell people the two of us dragged you there.”
Anderson smiles at the envelope. “I guess, but I don’t really think I care what anyone would say. I might not be super open about what anime means to me, but I have people I can share it with, and that’s what matters.”
“I was never here,” I whisper.
She’s too focused on other stuff, throws her hands up, and lets me continue.
I wait by the wings. Once Kate exits the stage and comes back behind these curtains, I’ll grab her. Even better if they go to black for a transition.
I try to peer around the curtain to see if she’s anywhere near me.
And then I’m yanked into the large storage room backstage, a hand tight over my mouth as the door gently and silently closes.
“You’re like a damn cockroach,” Ms. Richards says. “We can’t get rid of you.”
Thirty-Three
Exit, Pursued by a Bird
My heart is in my throat as I look up at Ms. Richards. She’s dressed impeccably for the performance in a silky low-cut jumpsuit and heels. Her hair is tied in a loose updo and her lips are bloodred.
My stomach lurches. Even though I saw the picture of her with Jillian, I didn’t want to actually believe that she was involved. But there’s no denying it now.
And as scared as I am, I’m hurt too.
“Well, it’s not for lack of trying,” I say. “Real team effort in teenage-kid murder.”
Which is why I don’t have the time to be doing this now. Not when Jillian is probably about to shoot my sister.
She blocks my path to the door.
Ms. Richards smiles. “Might as well put an end to it now.” She rolls her eyes. “Jillian doesn’t have it in her.”
Didn’t seem that way when she ran up to the tech booth with a loaded freaking weapon.
“You actually believe that?” I ask. “That you will be birds in another life?”
“Absolutely not. The rest of them really got into it, though. Insane, isn’t it?” Ms. Richards frowns. “I do, however, believe in the money it makes me. And I love Jillie. She’s a nut, but I love her.”
I almost feel bad for Jillian. Or, at least, I would if she didn’t kidnap me and wasn’t about to kill Kate.
Ms. Richards’s little laugh twists into a grimace as she goes on. “She actually cared about you. If you weren’t the neighbor of that nosy loser I killed, I think she would’ve convinced you to join. She’s been planning it for months. She adores you.” Her eyes catch mine. “Which is why I should kill you now.”
Not only do I have to save my sister, I have to get away from this woman.
But the words escape out of me. “You killed Mr. Conspiracy?”
“The weird guy with the Post-its on his wall?” She pulls out a knife, like the one she used on him, from her purse and tosses the handbag aside. “Let’s say I did.”
I need to do something. I’m not sure I can outrun her. I have to open the door, but she’s directly in the way. There’s nothing around me I can easily grab—the closest thing is an old costume rack.
“All the conversations we had were fake?”
Ms. Richards steps closer, cornering me. I back up, and the hanging fabrics brush against me. She’s nearly within reach, but I’m unarmed. I can’t get to any of the bins of props or old set pieces lining the walls.
“Of course,” Ms. Richards says. “Like I care about you and your little gender issues.”
A bit of anger rises in me, but it’s hard for the frustration to overtake my fear. I can’t die back here, though. Kate is counting on me. Mr. Conspiracy is counting on me.
My friends are counting on me.
And I’ve never even had my first kiss.
What would Anderson do? What would Zoro or Luffy do?
As she starts to lunge forward, I snap one of the heavy dresses off the rack and toss it over her head. Her hands go up and I shift into fighting stance. Her momentary blindness gives me enough time to bend my knees and twist my hips to send a straight cross right to her belly. I’m not the strongest, but it lands, and the knife clatters to the floor as her breath expels.
I quickly reset and send a hook right to the side of her face.
Once I make contact, I drop to pick up the knife, whip open the door, and run out of the closet.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
A quick laugh escapes out of me, although that falls when I see Mr. Hawthorne from GLAOE—or, I guess, the Flock—preventing my backstage exit.
Which means there’s only one way to go, especially because I hear Kate speaking in her Audrey voice on stage. I rush to the wings, knife in my hands. Cory starts his line, about two feet away from me, but Kate is all the way on stage left.
I run out onto the stage and shove Cory into the wings, out of the line of fire. Gasps sound from the crowd, and audience members erupt into murmurs.
The opening notes of “Suddenly Seymour” play. The big duet between Audrey and the male lead, Seymour.
Kate’s eyes widen as she sees me, but otherwise she stays relatively in character. I look at her for a second, body frozen. I’m completely visible on stage.
I’m completely visible on stage.
Mom and Kate are going to kill me. But as long as they’re alive to do it . . .
I quickly stick the knife in the waistband of my pants and hope it doesn’t cut me.
I can’t look toward the audience, who are audibly confused, although the stage lights are too bright to confirm it. It’s certainly impossible to see what’s going on in the tech booth.
And I’m visible. On stage. In front of everyone.
Fear #1 (tied): Public Speaking/Humiliation
It probably isn’t a good idea to completely panic.
Before I know what I’m doing, I start singing the lyrics of the song. I’ve had to say the lines to Kate a billion times before.
It’s hard to tell who is more surprised at my shaky but strong voice, my sister in her bright blond wig, or me.
As I continue through the lyrics, both hoping and not hoping that I’m loud enough, I grab Kate, and pull her in a weird kind of sightseeing dance tour that zigzags around the stage. She really excels at the whole Meisner “take the first thing” or whatever, because she goes along with it, probably making the awkward movements seem a little more planned.
As Kate takes over singing, I lead her behind set pieces that might not necessarily stop a bullet, but might at least make Jillian hesitate. As much as I’d love to run offstage with her, that probably would cause a panic, and even if I have a knife, there’s Mr. Hawthorne and a pissed-off Ms. Richards in the stage-right wing. I also spot two cult members stage left.
They can’t do anything to us in front of a nearly full house. At least I hope not.
We go behind the flower shop counter, despite it keeping us from being in full view, and around Audrey II.
Kate was right. The puppet looks amazing—way better than the morph suit.
I try to keep us moving as much as possible. It’s not like the change in choreography really matters, I’m already ruining the show.
Despite trying to pay attention to the song, because I have to join in soon, my heart is pounding and my vision is spotty waiting in anticipation for a bullet to come spiraling at the two of us. Although part of that might be from being up here.
And the head wound. And potential drugs.
Well, there are a lot of reasons and I’m running on nothing but fear and the muscle memory of running lines and listening to this song with Kate.
The girls who are like the Greek chorus of the musical actually come out despite me making a mess of the show. I’ll have to thank the trio, Yoneta and the two underclassmen who I haven’t met, later for also going along with it, but I casually walk over to them with Kate still using the counter as a prop and get them to join in on constant movement.
I walk in front of the four of them, back and forth, although acting as a human shield for four people isn’t exactly the best option.
If Anderson figures this out, I’ll buy him Ben & Jerry’s for life.
Even though I want to throw up, I focus on keeping everyone on stage moving behind something to shield them.
The song reaches the end, and on the hold of the last note, a gunshot cracks through the auditorium.
A bit of glass cracks and showers stage left as one of the lights goes dark.
The music immediately stops, and a few screams sound. None of the audience members seem to know how to react.
Kate and Yoneta look at me with wide eyes and the two other girls are ducked on the ground. All of them seem okay. The light shattered at the other end of the stage and we’re closer to the right curtain.
A bit of relief passes through me, but it doesn’t last long, because most guns hold more than one bullet.
Someone yells from the back of the auditorium, where the tech booth is—followed by loud footsteps and a big thud.
There’s a long moment of silence. The stage lights are too bright to see what’s happening. I don’t know what to do without the music. I pull Kate closer to me behind the counter.
Suddenly, Anderson’s voice cuts through the air. “Aha. It is I, the vengeful brother of the dentist . . . the . . . orthodontist!” He’s walking up the center aisle, now holding the gun that Jillian had up high toward the ceiling. “I have come for revenge on Seymour!”
I wish I could better gauge the reaction to see if this really passes as part of the show. I don’t want the Flock or even the cops to put Anderson in danger because of this.
He climbs up on stage, shrugs at me as his back is toward the audience, and then pretends to slip. He gives an exaggerated and prolonged “ohhh!” as he gently hands off the gun to me and tumbles into the mouth of Audrey II.
Whoever plays that role goes along with it. “Delicious,” they say.
And the crowd claps and cheers, but I think that’s because everyone must love Anderson, regardless of what they think of the play.
Now I’m carrying an arsenal, and the back of my neck sweats. I want to get rid of the weapons, but then one of the cult members could run and pick the gun or knife up. I glance down at the gun. The magazine is missing, so Anderson must have taken it out before using it as a prop, which makes it slightly easier to hold.
It still burns in my hand and I really want it to go away.
The tech booth starts playing the curtain call music, and the rest of the cast runs out on stage. They go through the bows as police start filing in from the front. I glance to the side and see two officers grabbing Ms. Richards and Mr. Hawthorne.
I finally let out a breath.
I gently place the weapons on the floor, since I don’t really want to be seen holding them.
Anderson jogs from around the back and stands next to me.
I’m about to try to say something to him over the applause, but I don’t get the chance.
Kate and Cory grab a hand from each of us and pull us downstage along with them to join in on the bows.
The roar is deafening, and I can kind of see why people like my mom and Kate enjoy this.
I, however, feel my vision fade as I pass out for the second time today.
Thirty-Four
All’s Well That Ends Well
After I wake up and the paramedics patch me together on the stage, I lie down flat over the black surface. I could sleep for a week.
My mom rushes over to me.
“Oh, honey,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I manage to say through my dry throat.
“You were so good up there,” she goes on, “a much better singer than that Cory boy. Honestly, they should have you sing the song every night, your range is absolutely brilliant . . .”
“Mom,” I say. “Kate and I could have died.”
“You didn’t, though,” she says. “What you did do is steal the show.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Kate says from next to her.
“Oh, you were amazing, honey, but who knew Bianca could sing like that? We should really do an all-female production of this show. Or, oh my gosh, Wicked.”
My headache returns in full force. “Okay, next. Who’s next?”
Dad comes to my rescue by putting his arms around Mom and gently pulling her away. “Dear, she’s okay, let’s give her some space.” He gives me a wink. “Ti amo, Bianca.”
He usually doesn’t say it outright, so it’s kind of sweet that he did. The pronouns hurt, but not as much as my head, and I really had enough excitement without trying to start that conversation. As much as my dad works and doesn’t usually have the right words, he definitely understands what’s good for me as he pulls Mom away.
“Word on the street is you saved my life,” Kate says.
“Maybe I did,” I say. “Anderson, too.”
“I just thanked him.” She grins. “You’re the best sibling ever.”
Kate pulls me into a hug, squeezing a lot tighter than she usually would.
I sit up, since she kind of pulled me in that direction anyway.
Cory Kowalski stands upstage, where his mom is talking loudly to an officer about how money has been consistently diverted from the arts programs, there were strange volunteers working the show, and if they so much as look funny at Anderson or me, she’ll sue the entire LAPD.
It’s always good to have the blond rich white lady on your side.
“Is Cory mad?” I ask.
“Are you kidding?” Kate says. “You got him out of the line of fire. And don’t tell anyone, but he told me that you did sing the song better than him.”
I’m blushing now. “Don’t tell Mom.”
“No way,” Kate agrees. “And I take back the many bad things I’ve said about Cory Kowalski.”
We’re not really the kind of siblings that hug a lot, but Kate gives me another one. I guess almost dying is one way to change that. “But seriously, you were the coolest.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“The assistant stage manager and a girl on props said they heard Ms. Richards threaten you and admit she killed some guy. They already told the police, too.” Kate smiles. “By tomorrow, you’ll probably have a fan club.”
I roll my eyes and don’t bother responding to that part. “They got all the cult people then?”
“I think so,” Kate says. “But I doubt anyone else will get very far, especially not when you give them the evidence you found during questioning.”
Ugh. That’s the last thing I want to do right now, but if it will help, I should. I don’t know if I have a choice.
At the very least, Jillian and Ms. Richards are in police custody. I can probably start sleeping in my own room again.
Anderson walks over, some gauze taped to his head. “Look who’s alive.”
I groan. “Define alive.”
“Thanks again for saving my life,” Kate says to him. She turns back to me. “I’m going to make sure Mom gives you your space.”
She walks off, leaving me and Anderson.
“Paramedics said I’ll be good,” Anderson says, sitting down next to me.
“Same here.” I tap the bandages I now sport. “Relatively.”
“We might be sore tomorrow.”
I rub the side of my head gently. “Could be worse.” He gives a little laugh at that. I look over at him. “What was that?”
Anderson puts his good hand on my shoulder. “That, Bianca Torre, was us saving the day. Along with Elaine. And Ryan, who actually went to the cops first when we didn’t come back from the hike.” That helps explain why the police arrived so quickly. I’ll have to thank Ryan later.
Now that the adrenaline is gone, a wave of tears rushes out, but I also start laughing. Anderson joins in, and we laugh and cry for a few solid minutes. He scoots closer to me so I can lean my head on him.
“What happened on your end?” I ask.
Anderson lets out a long breath. “It was a lot of being threatened, but I feel like Jillian didn’t actually want to shoot anyone. I got her in a double leg and took the gun,” he says. “Probably broke my wrist again, but hey. That’s why you should try Jiu-Jitsu.”
I try not to look too proud of myself. “Well, I punched Ms. Richards.” I hold up my fingers to emphasize the point. “Twice.”
“That was you?” Anderson asks. “I saw her face, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”
“You were right,” I say. “I got a mean left hook.”
“My little person is growing up so fast,” Anderson says, squeezing his arm around my shoulders. “Rafael is going to be so proud. But you’re not getting out of taking his class anymore.”
“If I can stop a murderous cult, I can take a Jiu-Jitsu class,” I say, even though I’m not one hundred percent sure about that.
Anderson looks a little too excited.
“Maybe,” I add. “No promises.”
He chuckles again and falls back against the stage. “It’s been a wild few weeks, huh?”
I lie down next to him. The stage lights are dimmed, so it doesn’t hurt quite so much.
I feel like I’ve had enough happen since Mr. Conspiracy’s murder to pass a lifetime.
“That’s an understatement,” I say, head turned in his direction. “I did want to show you something though.”
He gives me a look. “Yeah?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out an envelope that thankfully survived. Along with a doodle of two birds, it reads BIANCA AND ANDERSON ANIME EXPO FUND. “Tickets for the summer don’t go on sale until February, so I couldn’t surprise you with them, but I’m going to help out my mom with filing and assignments to make some cash.”
His eyes look a little glassy, but it might be the adrenaline. Anderson pulls me into a hug.
“I’m so excited,” he says.
“Assuming you still want to go with me and not get some alone time with Layla,” I joke.
He pulls away, expression serious. “First, we can all go. Second, she’s going to be going in cosplay and I don’t want to be left alone while she’s taking pictures.”
“At least you can tell people the two of us dragged you there.”
Anderson smiles at the envelope. “I guess, but I don’t really think I care what anyone would say. I might not be super open about what anime means to me, but I have people I can share it with, and that’s what matters.”
