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Or worse, it was a dismissal. I had come to this city for the promise of a thriving art scene, naively thinking that it would be easy to find a job, but my degree in drama and limited work experience hadn't made me the best of candidates. When a position at Chaney Prep had opened up, and not just any position but one perfect for my skill set, I had done everything but stalk Principal Ronald Winslow in hopes of landing the job. I couldn't believe my luck when I'd gotten it, and if I lost it after only two weeks, it would be devastating, emotionally and financially. I hated confrontations, but I didn't shy away from them either. If Winslow was about to chew me out for this or that, he would learn that Lucy Young was not easily intimidated. I might look like a fragile china doll, but nothing could be further from the truth. I let out a sigh and squared my shoulders. It was going to be okay. I would smile and nod, promise to improve, and it would be over. Not everything in life was fun, although, to be frank, my definition of what constituted fun wasn't everyone's cup of tea. I could spend hours just staring at a Yayoi Kusama piece and call it my kind of afternoon, or I could talk endlessly about the significance of this or that motif in this or that book. So yeah, I was an odd bird, but dreading a summons to the principal's office was as universal as the fear of snakes, and I bet no one thought of it as a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. As I walked through the door, two things caught my attention. The first was Winslow's collection of Superman memorabilia, and the second was his hair. A redhead in a former life, now the color had faded to a faint shade between red and gray in the places it hadn't fallen out yet. "Good afternoon, Principal Winslow." I forced a bright smile. "You wanted to see me?" "Indeed." He smiled warmly, his bright blue eyes watching me closely. "Have a seat, Lucy." He nodded at the chair across from his desk. "And please, call me Ronald." That was a good sign. If he were about to fire me, he wouldn't ask me to call him by his first name. Unless his termination speech was the ‘let's-stay-friends’ type. I smoothed my blue skirt down over my knees as I sat, suddenly self-conscious about it possibly being too short or my blouse being too sheer. It wasn't, but the silk did mold to my breasts in a way that didn't leave much to the imagination. To his credit, Winslow's keen, watchful eyes never strayed from my face, but they still made me nervous. "How do you like Chaney Prep, Lucy?" he asked, his eyes still not moving from my face. "It's great." My voice was a little shaky. "And how are you getting along with the students in your class?" "They have been very welcoming," I said, quickly adding, "Thank you for asking." "All of them?" His right brow arched. My heart leaped against my chest. "Yes." He just looked at me without saying anything. I gulped silently. "Why? Has there been a complaint?" As he took a deep breath and sighed, I couldn't tell if he was frustrated, upset, or merely testing me. "I'm afraid so. Cooper Sinclair says you intend to put on a Romeo and Juliet production." Cooper Sinclair. I quickly put the name to a face. A rather brooding young man who had barely said a word to me during class. "Yes, I do." "He would like to be in a play," Winslow said. That was a surprise. The boy had signed up for my class, so obviously he was interested in the drama program, but he hadn't indicated a desire to act. Not everyone took drama to be on stage. Some wanted to direct, and others wanted to build sets, design costumes, or do stage makeup. For most, it was a good place to meet like-minded creative people and express their creativity. I released the breath I had been unconsciously holding all this time. "That's wonderful. I could audition him—" Winslow gave me an apologetic smile. "Not for Romeo and Juliet." I frowned. Not Romeo and Juliet? "I don't understand. Does he want to be in the play or not?" "He wants to be in a play, but he doesn't want to be in Romeo and Juliet. He feels it has been done to death artistically and wouldn't sufficiently stretch his acting muscles. He has played the part of Romeo three times already and does not wish to get typecast in the role." It took all of my willpower to not laugh out loud. "Typecasting happens after the start of a professional career. Cooper has to have one first, and I don't think that starring in school productions counts." "Oh, but he has a professional career, and that's at the heart of the issue, Lucy. Cooper Sinclair is already an established actor. He might be in the beginning stages of his career, but he has an agent, and he has done several paid roles." I hadn't known that, but it didn't change the fact that Cooper was wrong and that he was acting like a spoiled diva. "The boy is fourteen and shouldn't be worried about typecasting. It's not a concern at this point, especially not when it comes to high school productions. No one in Hollywood is going to care what roles he played in school." Principal Winslow sighed. "Nevertheless, he's concerned about his future and his acting résumé, and we would be remiss not to accommodate his needs, particularly since his father is the patron of the drama program." There it was. The bombshell moment. "The patron…?" "We didn't have a drama program before Clark Sinclair enrolled his son in our school and provided the funds for it." Principal Winslow drummed his fingers on the tempered glass top of his desk. "Therefore, Chaney Prep proudly honored him with the title of patron. Consequently, as the son of the patron, Cooper must have some leeway on these matters, if you understand my drift. He also has industry insights neither of us has, which could only be a bonus to the program." The principal paused as I took in the information. I could feel the mood of the room slowly shifting. "If Cooper were to be…shall we say, less than impressed by the curriculum presented to him, his father could, theoretically, reduce or even withdraw his funding." The drumming on the glass stopped with one final tap. The message had been delivered. I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I knew I had to choose my words carefully.
