A/N: Here we go! lol!


"Zoe! Zoe! Over here!" Ana waved from the far side of the cafeteria, where she'd claimed a table by the window. As juniors they no longer had to put up with shoving themselves between the unwashed artistic kids and the unshaven pot-head hippy wannabes. Once they'd staked a claim on a table on the first day—that was that. No one challenged juniors or seniors, who managed to co-exist fairly peacefully, since several of their members engaged in a cross-pollination program of sorts. At least 25 of the junior female population were assured a place at prom as someone's date.

"Hey!" Zoe finally managed to stumbled through the crowd and drop exhaustedly into a chair beside Ana.

"How's your day been so far?" asked Ana, looking at her rice cake with distaste before biting into it.

"Absolutely horrible. Chemistry, math and gym. Then after lunch I have English and geography, ending up with theatre with you. At least I'll be able to take a leisurely shower after gym and only be a little late for lunch break."

"I don't know why you're in gym—it's not mandatory after sophomore year."

Zoe shrugged.

"I know…I just—like it, I guess. After dealing with chem and calculus, it's a good way for me to work off steam."

"I guess," shrugged Ana. Zoe looked knowingly at her friend for a moment, then concentrated on opening her container of yogurt. Gym class was not kind to girls like Ana, who preferred to "work off steam" with some curly fries.

"First day of theatre, though!" said Zoe, trying to get excited again.

"Yeah," murmured Ana. "Do you know what we're doing yet this year?" she asked after a moment.

Zoe shook her head.

"Nope. Hope it's better than the Wizard of Oz last year. Geez."

'It only sucked because they wouldn't make you Dorothy," said Ana.

Zoe shrugged.

"C'est la vie." She finished her sandwich and glanced at her watch.

"I gotta go try to find my locker—I was late this morning for homeroom and missed my assignment. See you later!"

"Bye!" said Ana as Zoe darted off. Glaring at her rice cake for a moment longer, she threw it in the trash and got in the line up for the cafeteria's famous cheesecake. She fingered the change in her pocket—her bus fare home. She could walk home instead of taking the bus…


At last it came time for glorious, glorious theater class.

Zoe came in and settled herself in one of the fold-down seats in the back of the theater with a contented sigh.

"It's good to be back…"

Bitter Mountain had, for some unfathomable reason, been given a massive budget for theater, giving it more scope in choice of productions and better quality in design. The theater itself had been massively renovated in recent years, with all the trappings of a professional theatre—trapdoors, catwalks, and a range of possible special effects.

And yet they insisted on doing Grease.

Zoe rolled her eyes at the memory of her first year at Bitter Mountain High.

Ana sat in the chair beside Zoe with a huff.

"Long day?"

"The longest," said Ana. "First day of biology they insisted on talking about reproduction. In whales."

"Ow."

"Yeah."

"Class, could I have your attention please?" Mr. Nealson said. Everyone kept on chatting.

"Listen up, everyone!" said Gabrielle loudly, tossing her jet-black hair over her shoulder and smiling brilliantly at Mr. Nealson. Everyone fell silent.

"I swear, if he wasn't happily married, Gabby'd have no compunctions about offering him a blowjob," muttered Ana to Zoe.

"What makes you think his pesky marital state would stop her?"

"Okay class—not much to do today, just get to know everyone all around and hand out the scripts—as usual you will not be getting your script or a working knowledge of what you are in for for the rest of the year until the end of class," said Mr. Nealson teasingly.

The class groaned collectively.

They gathered on the stage and in turn, each person would stand up and introduce themselves and give a silly useless tidbit about themselves so that people could remember them.

"No one's going to remember my name if I tell them I like borsct," whispered Zoe to Ana. "They'll call me 'that girl who likes borsct.' Besides, this is only for the freshmen…we know everyone already."

"Why don't you start, Zoe?" said Mr. Nealson. "You seem very ready to volunteer information."

"Uh…" Zoe blushed bright pink and stood up shakily.

"Geez Zoe, if you get stage fright this early on, that doesn't leave much hope for the rest of the year, does it?" joked Gabby. Zoe tried not to look at her because she was sure that if she did, Gabby would promptly burst into flames, and that'd just be an annoyance she did not need.

"I'll go first, if you need a moment—I'm new here anyway," said a low voice from across the circle.

"Thanks…" Zoe gratefully dropped back down to try and think of something to say…only to look at her rescuer and lose all mental capabilities.

Blonde hair…dark grey eyes…an amazing smile…

Whoo boy.

"Hi everyone, I'm Shane Moore…I just moved here from San Francisco…"

Zoe's head snapped up.

Wait, what?

It couldn't possibly be him. Shane…Moore…


She'd been staying for the summer three years ago at her uncle's house in San Francisco. One day her uncle's golden lab had run through a beach volleyball game and brought Zoe and Shane together. They'd had a great time and parted at the end of the summer, promising to meet up again sometime.

Then her uncle had been transferred to Oregon and that was it.


It was her turn again.

"I'm Zoe and…I like borsct."

Oh God.

She retreated with Anna to their seats after the opening exercise and tuned out as Mr. Nealson went over the class rules.

"It's him," she hissed, trying not to move her lips as she was facing in Shane's direction.

"Who? Shane? Wait, that's the Shane? Here?"

"Mmm."

"Does he know you're here."

"It's a big class—I don't think he'd recognize me. I've grown breasts since then. Besides, he never really looked at me."

"I'm sure he'll remember you if you just—"

"No, Meg—Ana, I swear if you call him over I will kill you."

The class was spent whispering together and finally Mr. Nealson took a pile of scripts from his bag and handed them out as people exited the theater in a line.

Zoe was so caught up in trying to simoultaneously get close to and avoid Shane that she didn't notice Ana yanking on her sleeve frantically until they were nearly out the theater doors.

"What?"

Ana mutely shoved her script's title page under Zoe's nose.

Andrew Lloyd Webber's

The Phantom of the Opera

It was to her credit that Zoe managed to contain her screaming until safely ensconsed in the girl's bathroom.


A/N: Shane Moore was totally the name of a kid I had a huuuuuge crush on in grade nine! omg--i swear I'm not lieing! He was in my theater class to! drools