I wake up and Mush is giggling and poking me in the stomach with a pencil. I swat his hand away and roll over, then open my eyes and wonder, What the hell is Mush doing in my room? I see Dutchy, and I smile, remembering where I am. Dutchy opens his eyes slowly, and they quickly widen at the sight of Kid Blink and Mush standing next to his bed, laughing.

"Comfy?" Blink snickers and shakes his head.

Dutchy sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Hi, guys," he says, and grabs his glasses off the desk, hands me mine as well. "We were just..."

"You don't gotta explain," Mush says with a giggle. "We understand completely." He looks us over, the twisted sheets, entangled legs, and my exposed boxer shorts, as Dutchy is a blanket thief. "Well, it looks like you guys had fun last night."

I blush. Blink throws his head back and laughs. "You guys're too much." Shaking his head, he sighs happily. "God, if only the fellas could see this."

"Blink, you can't!" Dutchy exclaims in alarm. "This is--"

"I know, I know." Blink grabs some clean clothes, then ducks behind the dresser to change. He's weird, but he's modest. "You can trust me."

Mush snickers. "You, uh, lovebirds should get outta bed. We gotta be in the drama room in half an hour."

The downside of going to a boarding school, especially one centered around the arts, is that they fucking own you, even on the weekends. Example: Saturday morning play rehearsals.

A roomful of sleepy-eyed teenagers sit, staring at Medda as she checks off the cast list.

"Well, it looks like you're all here. Now, before we start, does anyone have any questions?"

I raise my hand.

"Specs?" Medda smiles.

"Yeah. Have you lost your mind?"

She laughs. "Why, because I didn't throw you off to the side? Honey, just be glad I didn't make you Conrad Birdie. Believe me, I considered it." I shake my head. "Anyone else have any other questions?"

The room stays silent for a moment. I'm pretty sure Spot is actually asleep.

"Great. Well, let's lay down the ground rules. First of all, we'll cover rehearsals. Rehearsals are the most important part of the play. I expect you all to be at every rehearsal, unless you have a decent, verified excuse. An example of such an excuse is that you have pre-arranged family business, such as one of our cast did today, or you are on your deathbed. Otherwise, you are to be at every single rehearsal." She looks around at us, and glares a little bit. Medda isn't very good at being threatening. "Now, I want you to think of rehearsals as your job. As work. It should fit nicely into your life. I expect all of you to keep up with your classes, and you should, in theory, be able to work around your social life. But that does not mean you can be out partying until three in the morning and come to rehearsal to sleep." She shoots a glare toward Spot and Jack, slumped in their chairs. "With work comes responsibilities."

"She pays the food and the rent and the utilities, we keep our mind on our work responsibilities, don't let your mouth overload your capabilities..." Dutchy sings, which is answered by a chorus of groans (including one from Medda) and several wadded-up pieces of paper thrown at his head. Seriously... our relationship is all of twelve hours old, but I don't know if I can handle the show tunes.

Medda shakes her head and continues. "Mr. Visser, that's the wrong musical. Back to the subject at hand, please, if the rest of you don't mind. I expect all of you to be entirely devoted to this play. You will have to practice outside rehearsals – that includes not only spoken lines, but songs and dances. Our school has a reputation for producing performances and artists of a certain caliber, and I am not about to lower my standards for you or allow the people who come to see this play be disappointed. If you intend to give this play any less than one hundred percent, I want you to get up and leave this room now."

I stay in my seat, but in all honesty, I am scared completely out of my mind.

"So, Race, you never did tell us who exactly you were goin' at it with Thursday night," Jack says as we sit in the hallway during break.

Racetrack grins as he swallows a mouthful of sandwich. "What's it to ya, Kelly?"

"Well, how am I supposed to make fun of who you're makin' it with if I don't know who it is?"

"That's exactly my point."

Medda's assistant, Caroline, walks by, giving a secret little smile to Racetrack. Racetrack smiles back and she scurries off, giggling and blushing.

"Oh, my God, Race," I say, smacking my palm to my forehead.

Jack nearly chokes on his sandwich. "How many times?"

Race grins. "Twice. Well, two occasions, anyway. Once before casting and once after."

Dutchy shakes his head. "That's a bribe, Higgins."

"I like to think of it more as a 'please' and a 'thank you.'"

Jack reaches over and smacks him on the side of his head.

"Ow!" Racetrack rubs his head and pouts a little.

"I'm so telling your mother," Spot says with a smirk. Racetrack jumps up at tackles him.

God, there is no way those two actually enjoy sex with girls.

Rehearsal ends around three, and I am fully exhausted. I don't really feel like dealing with my roommates, so I go to lounge around in Dutchy's room. Blink and Mush are hanging out on Mush's bunk above us, snickering about God knows what while I read over the script with Dutchy. He makes some snide remark and we start laughing, and that's when two heads appear, hanging down over the edge of the top bunk.

"You guys looove each other," the curly-haired head says, "don't you?"

Dutchy rolls his eyes and I hit Mush on the nose with my rolled-up script.

"No, it's cute," Blink chimes in. "But Dutchy, are you aware that Specs doesn't have a vagina?"

"Hey, Blink, guess what?" Dutchy says.

"What?"

Dutchy grabs Blink's eye patch and pulls it back as far as he can and then lets go, causing it to snap back into Blink's face.

"Owww!" Blink yelps, grimacing. "That was just uncalled for!"

"So is your face, Blink."