AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t know.”
He scoffs. “You’re not very confident, either.”
“Okay, fine,” I say. “I won an award.”
“See? This…” He gestures between us. “This is the start of a beautiful friendship. Now, come on.” He tugs on my arm again. “Let’s go learn from the master.”
I let him drag me with him down the hall. We’re going to the same place, anyway. Might as well go with the flow. Also, I’ve been at a new school for less than a day and I’ve already made a friend. Sort of. Kinda.
Either way, it feels nice.
Dylan claims the last two seats in the front row for us. As we sit down, I clear my throat, giving myself a moment to second-guess what I’m about to say. He’ll find out, eventually. People always do.
“Well, if we’re going to be such beautiful friends,” I say, “I guess now is a good time to tell you that my father is John Kirby.”
Dylan wrinkles his brow. “Who?”
“Good morning, class!”
Two dozen eyes thrust forward, heads swiveling to look at Grant at the front of the classroom. He hops up to sit on the desk, his brown loafers dangling a foot off the floor as he scans the room with a long smile.
“This is Playwriting 101 and I am your host for the semester, Grant Wilson.”
Dylan visibly shudders, his hands shaking in his lap, and… he’s not the only one.
I glance around at my classmates, their expressions full of wild admiration, their bodies leaned forward to catch every word that leaves his mouth.
Not a single one of them knows who I am, nor who my father is.
They probably wouldn’t even care if they did.
I smile to myself.
“I know day one is meant for going over the syllabus, but mine is short and sweet, so let’s get it out of the way now,” Grant says. “Show up to every class. I won’t be taking role. You’re adults in charge of your own time, but you are paying to be here, so you might as well get the most out of it.
“Do the reading — and yes, there will be lots of it. If you want to write, you have to read. Make time for it.
“Last, you have one and only one assignment this semester. Each one of you will write a one-act play. The due date for these plays is November 30th. If I don’t have it in my inbox by 11:59 PM on that date, you will fail this course. This deadline is set in stone because your plays will be performed ten days later at the annual winter theatre showcase and those students need time to learn their lines.” He smiles. “Any questions?”
A dozen happy hands shoot up, Dylan’s included.
I sit still, my entire body frozen solid.
The annual winter theatre showcase?
That’s… a lot bigger than a display case in the Chicago North High library.
I swallow hard.
CHAPTER 8
CONNOR
This place is a damn labyrinth.
I was twelve the first time I walked the tangled halls of the Chicago North rec center. The university asked my parents to speak at their centennial event and, Northies to the bone, they couldn’t say no. Afterward, my mom took my sister to Talon Hall to show her the auditorium, and my father took me to the football field. The look of pride on his face as I stood beside him in the end zone was contagious, like a king admiring his beloved kingdom. He was a Northie. A Bearhawk. Forever.
That was the day I knew I wanted to be a Northie, too.
