Two.

Richard reached for his backpack, straightened up and started out. He was in a lousy mood, but that had become his standard mood for the last couple of weeks; at least finishing up his rehearsal for VoiceMale, the elite boys' choir he belonged to, left him feeling a tiny bit better. The choir was considered one of the top in the country for teenage vocal talents; he'd been a member for two years, the only performing he'd done since his show had been canceled.

"Richard, do you have a minute?"

He shrugged, slowed his pace, and waited for the choir's director, Sherman Godfry, to catch up with him. "What's up, Sherm?"

"You've been... off... in rehearsals for the last few weeks. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, it's just awkward with two open spots in the mix," Rich answered.

Sherman nodded. "Well, auditions are next week, so we'll get them filled."

"Can't wait."

Sherman gave him a knowing look. "So anything else bothering you?"

"Nope."

"School okay? Senior year is tough."

"It's fine."

"Parents okay?"

"My mom is psycho, but hey, what else is new?" Richard faked a laugh. He might have been out of show business for a few years, but he still had that ability. Most people would have fallen for it.

Sherman did not.

"Look, Rich, I've know you for two years; something is bothering you. Other than your mom, because she's always bothering you. Talk to me."

Richard hesitated. On the one hand, he didn't really want to talk; on the other hand, Sherman was the closest thing to a mentor he had. The choir was a tight knit group, and Sherman went out of his way to know what was going on in the lives of all of its members and help them out when it was needed.

"It's nothing big. There's just this guy at school."

"Oooooh, someone has a cru-ush," Sherman laughed.

"Ha. No." Rich leaned against the wall. "He's only fifteen. And he's obnoxious."

"So then what's the problem?"

Richard hesitated again. "You... Ever heard of Chris Ivers?"

"Yeah, of course. So?"

"So, it's him."

There was a long pause.

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah."

"So..." Sherman had a pretty good idea where this was going, but Richard clearly needed some prompting. "So what does he do?"

"Nothing! He's just... There!" From his tone of voice, Sherman could see he'd hit the mark.

"And that bothers you."

"Yes!"

"Okay..."

"Because he's practically me, three years ago, and I don't want to think about that! I don't to think about the Business, I don't want to think about how much my life sucked."

"Yeah, it must've been tough when your show went off the air."

"It's not even that, it was my fault we got canceled anyway." He sounded more than slightly bitter. "It's just, he's there and every time I see him with his stupid celebrity attitude, part of me wants to hit him but I also just... Feel kind of sorry for him."

"Ah. Because you know how much it sucks."

"Yeah."

"So... what are you going to do about it?"

"Do? What am I supposed to do? It's not my problem he's a prick."

Sherman shrugged. "Maybe not." He paused. "Well, let me know if you need any help. See you tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah, thanks," Rich said, but he kind of wondered what Sherman had hinted at.

...later...

As Chris approached the double black doors that led to his theatre class, he wondered how it was possible to despise a simple pair of doors as much as he did. Every day for the past two weeks, not once had he left the class in a better mood than he came in with. He didn't even bother trying anymore; he just sat and hoped that Bernie would not call on him. Occasionally, he'd be forced to participate, but for the most part, he'd ignored the class and the class had ignored him.

Every now and then, though, he'd catch Rich looking at him. Sometimes he almost looked as though he was pitying Chris, other times he looked vaguely hostile or totally blank. It definitely made Chris slightly uncomfortable, but he wasn't about to let Rich know that. After all, he hated school, but he still had his pride.

He reached out to open the door, but paused, his attention caught by a bright pink piece of paper taped to it. As he looked over it, his mood improved markedly for the first time in several days.

Auditions for the fall show, The King and I are coming up.

Sign-up to audition in the theatre lobby, and come prepared

with a monologue and song. Good luck!

Heartened, our hero bravely enters. He knows that the theatre class hates him, but there's no reason that he won't have luck with the school show, he narrated to himself, already picturing his audition going well. He was snapped out of his reverie by a hand jostling his shoulder.

He swung around.

"Um... you going to open that door or what?" Rich asked slightly impatiently.

"Yeah, I was just reading," Chris said defensively and pushed the door open.

As Rich maneuvered around Chris, he commented, "I wouldn't bother if I were you."

"Since when do you talk to me in class?" Chris snapped back.

"Since if you audition, you're going to regret it. Just a friendly piece of advice," Richard replied, then walked past to his usual seat.

Chris wondered what the warning meant, but easily brushed it off. He was far too desperate to be back on stage and to have the attention that went with it.

...later...

"Well, Mr. Ivers, now that you've had time to acclimate to your new school, why don't we sit down and evaluate how classes are going for you?"

"No problem," Chris answered, giving the guidance counselor his most winning smile, though he already knew what she was going to say.

The small, mousy woman opened his file, making small humming noises as she glanced through it. "Well, um... You seem to be doing quite well in some areas. However, your math grade is a bit worrisome."

"Math isn't my strong point, I know," Chris answered warily. "I've been trying my hardest, but I just don't seem to get it."

"Yes, dear, that's clear, looking at your grade." She smiled comfortingly. "But don't worry. I've already taken the liberty of finding one of your peers to help you out."

He had a moment of dread, suspecting that they had thrown Rich and him together again.

"Now, just a moment; he should be right outside. He's such a nice boy, I'm sure you'll get along," she added. "Alex?" she called louder. "Alex, dear, would you join us please?"

The door opened, though Chris, relieved that his peer tutor was not Rich, didn't turn around at first. When he did, though, he was surprised. He'd expected a total geek and the kid looked... nice. His hair was dark brown, shaggy, and fell slightly in his face, almost hiding his puppy-dog brown eyes. He was clearly from a Spanish background, and he was eyeing Chris shyly.

"Now, Chris, this is Alex. Alex, this is Chris."

"Alejandro," the kid muttered sheepishly.

" Al-ay-han-d – I'm sorry, I don't think I can pronounce that right. Can I just call you Alex?" Chris asked.

Alejandro sighed. "Sure. Nice to meet you, Chris."

Chris smiled. "You too, Alex. So, we're going to be working together, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like."

The guidance counselor broke in. "Well, now that you two have gotten acquainted, why don't you head over to the library to put together a good tutoring schedule?"

Alejandro nodded, and Chris shrugged a little and stood up, then followed Alejandro out of the room.

"So..." Chris mumbled, not sure what to say as they walked to the library.

Alejandro bit his lip for a second, then commented quietly, "I was sorry your show got canceled."

Chris blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah... It was my little sister's favorite show, so I, uh, watched it with her. Sometimes. It was pretty good."

"Hey, thanks!" Chris answered brightly, his mood suddenly improving.

"Are you planning to try out for the show?"

"Yeah."

Alejandro nodded. "I'm sure you'll be great."

"Well, I... Hope so," Chris answered. "Are you... Gonna audition?"

"Yeah... I'm not very good, though."

"I'm sure you're great," Chris said warmly, as they reached the library. Alex, he decided, was about the only nice person he'd met at school.

...later...

Three o'clock. Chris had been so impatient during theater that afternoon that he'd forgotten to avoid attracting attention, but had too much nervous energy to care. Not that he was actually nervous, exactly, just anxious. The cast list would be up as soon as class ended.

The bell rang and he started towards the door, only to have Richard brush by him. "You auditioned?"

"Yeah."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Rich walked past him, and Chris practically skipped his way out to the lobby where the list would be posted.

There was a crowd gathered around the list, of course, but Chris had no problems pushing his way through. He scanned the top of the list for his name and noted somewhat cheerfully that Alejandro had one of the more important supporting male roles (and a song to himself), but didn't see his own name. Frowning, he scanned down the list further. Still nothing.

Further.

Nothing.

He bit his lip as he turned to the last section and finally saw himself, listed under "chorus; Siamese children".

He stared and read it again, not entirely believing what he read. He heard people celebrating around him, though it sounded kind of distant, and he was too far in shock to protest when he got shoved back to the back of the crowd. He glanced around and saw Alex, grinning, being congratulated by a friend. Alex glanced over and caught his eye, and smiled; Chris turned away, shouldered his backpack and started out of the school.

He was somewhere past the main door when Richard caught up with him.

"Told you so," Richard said.

"Fuck off," Chris answered.

"Hey—I did warn you." Richard hesitated. "It happened to me when I first got here."

"So what, the school has something against," he said in as bitter a voice as he could manage, "former child actors?"

"Yes." Richard nodded. "After all, they want to be fair. And it wouldn't be fair to let the kids who've already had the spotlight take the lead."

"But I'm good!"

"So was I." For the first time, Rich also sounded bitter. "But that's how it works."

Chris ground his teeth and Rich sighed. He glanced over at Chris, who was doing a good job of looking like he wasn't utterly crushed. "Hey. It's just a high school play. It's no big deal, right?" Rich said.

"Whatever." Chris kicked a pebble. "It just... I'm supposed to be a professional and if I can't even get a part in a stupid high school show, how am I supposed to ever—" He broke off.

"Make a comeback?" Rich suggested.

"Yeah." Chris swallowed hard, trying to bite back everything he was feeling.

Richard kept walking with him, a thousand responses playing through his mind. Finally, he commented, "You know, there's other places to go if you just want to perform."

Chris gave him a suspicious look. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm, uh... I'm in this chorus at the Community Center of Music and Art. It's... Not, like, professional or anything. But we go to competitions a lot, we get a pretty good amount of press." He shrugged. "We had two members graduate the end of last season, so we're looking for some.... New voices."

"...Yeah?" Chris said again.

"Yeah. So. If you want to try out or anything..." He shrugged. "I mean, I can't say for sure you'd get in, but you sing okay."

"Thanks."

"You sing better than you dance. I did watch your show occasionally."

"I dance fine."

Richard almost laughed. "Yeah, that's one word for it."

Chris made an exasperated noise, but didn't say anything. Because dancing wasn't really his strong point. He'd been well-trained in it, but it didn't come naturally the way singing did.

"So anyway. Our auditions are Monday, at the CCMA. If you're interested.... It beats Siamese Child Number Eight." He gave Chris another look, which was basically unreadable, and started to walk away.

"Hey—Richard," Chris called, and Rich glanced back at him. "Uh... Thanks."

"Whatever. Good luck." He added, vaguely tauntingly, "It's a pretty hard group to get into."

"They took you."

"Shut up, Ivers." But he sounded more amused than offended.

...later...

"Hey—Sherm?" Rich asked, waiting around as the other members of the chorus filed out of their Friday evening rehearsal.

"Yo."

"I think I might have done something stupid."

"There's a shock." Sherman slapped his back playfully. "What's up?"

"You remember that... problem... I told you about?"

"Yeah?"

"I, um... Maybe felt a little too sorry for him." He hesitated a second, then finished, "He was pretty upset about some stuff at school and I kind of suggested he audition for us."

"I see." Sherman nodded a little. "If I remember right, he can sing."

"Yeah, he's pretty good."

"So... You're afraid he'll get in? Or that he won't?"

"What are you talking about? I just can't believe I even suggested it to him. He's so... Ught."

"Well, he can't be 'ught' all the time, or you wouldn't have suggested it. He reminds you of you, anyway, so unless you're also 'ught'—"

"I was in ninth grade." Rich shrugged a little. "I'm not anymore, though. You know, much. But he actually wants to go back to the spotlight and everything!"

"So do you."

"I do not."

"Uh huh."

"I really don't." Richard crossed his arms defensively.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Rich."

"What... What makes you think I want back into show business?"

Sherman smiled. "Call it a gut feeling, Rich. Look where you are now. If it wasn't for your... Problem, you'd probably never have left it."

"But I never even wanted it. If Mom hadn't made me..." He trailed off. "I don't want to go back."

"Fair enough. Kind of a shame, though; one of my contacts had asked me to pass on some audition info to you, but..." He trailed off.

Richard hesitated, various instincts at war, then finally asked, "Audition info?"

"Not that you'd be interested," Sherman laughed.

"Sherman!"

"Oh, gee, you do want it?"

"Sherman!"

"Say please."

"Sherman!"

Sherman started laughing. "Come on, it's in my office."

"So what is it?"

"Wellllllllll."

"Sherman!"

Sherman was, clearly, having far too much fun with this. "Well, you know the Uptown Boyz, right?"

"Uh... Yeah." He gave Sherman a weird look. "They're a boyband. So?"

"So you know the guy who put them together?"

"...Pulitzer?"

"Yeah."

"So?"

"So his record label is looking to put together another boyband to catch the younger girls in their group. You know, a bunch of cute teenagers who can sing and dance and smile at cameras."

"Someone wants me to audition for a boyband?"

"Yeah. His name's Weisel, he's supposed to be in charge of the whole deal. Saw us perform last year, thinks you've still got it, wants to pull in someone with a name who can get publicity... So yeah, if you're interested."

Richard bit his lip.

"But if you aren't, no one would blame you. I know why you got out of it all, so if you don't want to go back..."

"I'd have to think about it," Richard said.

"Of course. Weisel'll be in town next week, so you've got a few days." He grinned. "Takes your mind off that other problem, huh?"

"What? Oh... Yeah." He paused. "A boyband? Really?"

"Well, between the Uptown Boys and Shawna Rivers, pretty teenagers sell." He elbowed Richard. "You remember Shawna."

"Yes, I remember Shawna."

"She was on your show."

"I'm aware of that, thanks."

"And she's the biggest artist in the business right now."

"That's not... Art, exactly."

"It's close enough." He shrugged. "So you think about it, okay? As for the other thing, well, if the kid is good, he'll get in; if not, he won't. Not your problem."

"Right." Richard started to walk again, for the first time in three years wondering if he maybe did want to get back into the business.

AN: Using "...later..." to show time breaks was not our idea. FFnet no longer allows any sort of character off on its own, which means you can't us an asterisk, a pound sign, or anything else. We have no idea why not, but find it irritating. This way of showing time breaks is ugly. Apologies.