"He is avoiding me," I concluded.

It was Friday, and since he'd agreed to be my partner in English class, Constant Gray had hardly spoken two words to me. After class, he'd grabbed his pack, rushed from the room, and disappeared. If I spotted him between classes, he ignored me, and I hadn't seen him after school since the first day.

As Lauren, Avery, and Dennis walked me to my first meeting of Drama Club, I expressed my growing frustration.

"So, forget him!" Dennis said, slinging an arm around my shoulders and squishing me against his side. "Who needs him, when you got us?"

Dennis had shown and taught me many things already that week, and now he declared we were 'best mates,' and that I was 'his boy.'

Lauren laughed when he said these things, but Avery was more apt to frown, leaving me uncertain which was the proper response.

"But do you not think he is lonely?" I asked. "I am indeed fortunate to have fallen in with such good company, but he is friendless."

"That's his choice," Dennis argued. "You know what they say: 'you can lead a horse to water, but you can't push him in.'"

"It's 'make him drink,' idiot," Avery said.

"Whatever." Dennis rolled his eyes at her. "Point is, don't waste your time. Now come on and meet the rest of your new clan."

~ ❀~

The 'auditorium' was grand beyond my dreams — a true theatre, with rows and rows of seats, a balcony, and a stage both broad and deep. The lights were low, the air scented with wood and dust, and the atmosphere rich with the promise and excitement of 'opening night.'

At the front of the hall, gathered near the stage, were the rest of the Drama Club.

The teacher's name was Mr. Hao, but he asked us to call him 'Dave,' and I found him rather alarming, at first.

"Well, well, well! What has the cat dragged in?" he called as we made our way towards him down the long aisle. "Dennis, Avery, and Lauren — the terrible trois. And you brought me fresh meat, I see."

He looked me up and down as he said this, and for a moment, I was afraid I'd been led into some awful trap, but then he gave me a friendly wave, and I understood (as Ari had carefully explained was often the case when people said such things) that he was not 'being literal.'

"Hey there," he said, holding out his hand to me. "I'm Mr. Hao, but I only make the bad kids call me that, and there are no bad kids here. So, you can call me Dave."

"Hello, Mr. Dave," I said shyly, not quite able to meet his eyes.

After Ms. Harper, I'd become wary of teachers.

He waited, just holding my hand, until I looked up. Then he grinned.

He had black hair streaked with gray, which he wore in a ponytail, lively dark eyes, and a face that lit up when he smiled.

"It's just Dave," he said. "And you are?"

"F-Fenn. Fenn Dayraven," I said — or tried. It came out rather softly.

"Fenn Dayraven," he repeated with thoughtful gravity. "That... is an excellent stage name! You have much experience treading the boards, Fenn?"

"Only a — a little," I said. "I've learned... a bit of Shakespeare."

I had told Ari and Soren about English class, and Soren had reminded me that most people did not have whole plays memorized — much less thirty-seven of them.

"But I learned them before I was turned," I had argued. "So it must be humanly possible."

Ari had laughed at that. "I think, little Fenn, that — vampire or not — you have always been something special," he had said. "Best not to draw attention, if you can help it."

"Shakespeare, huh?" Mr. Dave said now. "Anything more... recent?"

I had been improving my repertoire, but Soren had informed me that knowing every song from several dozen musicals by heart was also unusual.

"Some," I hedged.

He grinned again. His eyebrows were like little black-and-white caterpillars, and jumped up and down on his forehead as his expression changed, swift as passing clouds.

"Well, we'll soon find out! Have a seat, Fenn — and welcome to Drama Club!"

~ ❀~

Over the next half hour, Mr. Dave explained his 'vision' for the year ahead. We sat in a semi-circle, cross-legged on the stage, while he walked back and forth in front of us.

Each year, it seemed, there were two major performances: one before 'winter break,' and one at the end of spring.

"We start with the old, stodgy shit," Mr. Dave explained. "Aeschylus, Sophocles, Shakespeare, Marlowe — copyright-free crap we don't have to pay for, in other words. Though we always put a fun twist on it, of course."

Dennis leaned towards me. "Last year we did 'Titus Andronicus' as a mafia piece," he whispered. "It was in-tense."

As usual, I was not entirely sure if I understood him, but Lauren grimaced, so I grimaced, too. I had never liked that play.

"For the Grand Finale," Mr. Dave went on, "our end of the year production, we do something modern and fun — something we have to pay for. We choose our show, fundraise all fall, then spend the spring term on all the important stuff. Costumes! Makeup! Lighting! Sets!"

He stalked downstage center, towards the imaginary audience, throwing his hands in the air to emphasize each word.

A giggle escaped me, and he spun on the spot and fixed me with a pinpoint stare.

"Fenn Dayraven!" he exclaimed, pointing. "What else will we need?"

"I..." I froze in place, my heart accelerating with sudden fright.

Then Dennis leaned close again and whispered in my ear. "Just answer," he said. "Anything's fine. Dave is cool."

I considered. There were fourteen of us, including Mr. Dave. That was not enough for a 'grand production.' Casting my mind as far back as I could, I recalled the bustle and turmoil of putting on a play, and everything involved.

"More actors?" I suggested. "And... and stage-hands. And ushers, and ticket-collectors, and leaflets and flyers!"

"That's the spirit!" Mr. Dave shouted, clapping his hands and making me — and quite a few others — jump. "We start working now, and if we work hard all year, we'll have something to show for it come spring. Now..." He bit his lip and looked at each of us in turn. "Last year we went big and shiny, and new — but as much heart-breaking fun as Dear Evan Hansen was, I'm thinking of going old-school this year. What do you say to... The Phantom of the Opera?"

There were a few audible groans, a few gasps of excitement, and before I could stop myself I'd raised my hand, bouncing with pleasure.

"Yes, Fenn?" Mr. Dave asked.

"I know that one!" I announced.

"Do you really?" He raised his brows. "Well, come on up then!" He beckoned to me, and then dashed across the stage to where a grand pianoforte waited. He pulled out the bench, sat down, opened the lid, cracked his knuckles with theatrical glee, and waited with his fingers poised above the keys.

"Oh..." I whispered. "I don't..."

He beckoned at me eagerly.

"Come on! Don't be shy — just a line or two is fine. Doesn't even have to be on key! You pick the song!"

"Go on," Dennis urged, giving me a light push. "You said you know it!"

Reluctantly, I got to my feet and walked on shaky legs to stand at the piano's side.

"Alright! What'll it be?" Mr. Dave asked, beaming up at me.

"My voice," I whispered, keeping my eyes on my clasped hands. "It is rather high."

"So, pick what works. How about 'Think of Me?' Everybody knows that one. You know that one?"

I nodded.

He nodded back and began to play.

I shut my eyes, clenched my fists, and began to sing.

My voice was high and thready at first, but Mr. Dave actually played quite well, and within a line or two, I relaxed and began to breathe properly. I sang all the way through, and when I finished, I realized Mr. Dave had stopped playing some measures before.

It was very quiet, and as I saw every set of eyes fixed on me, my fear returned in force.

Then Mr. Dave burst into applause, and after a moment, everyone joined in — Dennis with especial enthusiasm, Avery and Lauren with less.

"That was astonishing, Fenn," Mr. Dave said. "Truly, truly gorgeous! You have otherworldly talent — without a doubt."

"Oh, no, I—"

"You do!" he insisted. "And now—" he held out his hand for me to shake. "Welcome to Drama Club — for real this time." He winked.

And that, I realized, had been my audition.

Still shaky — though this time with relief — I returned to my place and sat back down at Dennis' side.

He leaned towards me with a glint in his eyes and whispered next to my ear.

"I've figured it out, you know," he said. "I know what you are, now."

I froze with fresh fear. Had I lost control while I sang? Had the glow of my eyes, or the length of my teeth, shone in the dimly lit stage? Could Dennis have possibly seen that far? Could he—

"You're an angel," he said, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. "Nothing else could sing like that."

"Oh." Relieved, I smiled carefully and lowered my gaze. "Is he always so eccentric? Mr. Dave, I mean?"

"You have no idea." He rolled his eyes. "I think he actually went easy on you."

~ ❀ ~

When class ended, Dennis wished us a happy week-end before dashing away to find his volleyball friends.

I walked with Lauren and Avery to the front of the school to await our respective rides home.

We walked in silence, and then sat together on one of the low, green metal benches that lined the circular 'loading zone.' I was enjoying the companionable quiet, sitting with my friends, until Avery spoke.

"Hey, Fenn?" She squinted and shielded her eyes against the afternoon light.

"Yes, Avery?"

"Do you...like Dennis?" she asked.

"Yes, I like him very much," I answered honestly. "He is an excellent friend."

Mr. Dave had said the word 'excellent' a lot, and it had stuck in my head.

Avery huffed. "Dennis gets confused easily, okay? He sees something new and shiny, and he thinks he wants it, but then he loses interest just as fast."

"Yes," I agreed, nodding, "he told me of that."

Dennis had shown me his collection of 'fidget spinners,' which he said helped him to concentrate on one thing at a time.

"Good," Avery said, and bit her lip. "It's just... Well, I like Dennis, too."

"Can we not both like him?" I asked, looking over at her in surprise.

She frowned. "Look, if you wanna stay friends, just remember I was here first."

Hearing a new, unexpectedly harder edge to her tone, I shrank away and hugged my pack against my chest.

Lauren and Avery had set theirs on the ground, but I hadn't wanted to get dirt on mine. Also, I found it comforting to stroke the fuzzy white 'hello' kitty stitched to the front. I did so now, as I realized Avery was not happy with me, and that I did not understand why.

"There's another thing." She nodded at Lauren, who sat on her other side. "Lauren's been dying to play Christine for years."

"It's like, my dream part," Lauren sniffed, and wiped at her nose.

"Christine?" I asked.

"From Phantom? Who sings the song you just slayed?" Avery sounded a bit exasperated, and I shrank further.

"Slayed?" I echoed, confused.

Lauren nodded, and I noted, with increasing distress, that her eyes were bright with the sparkle of tears.

Avery sighed. "Fenn — we love you. You're so sweet and honest and cute. But don't ruin this for us. Dave looked like he wanted to eat you up, and he loves to push the envelope with casting. We're not mad at you — we just want you to know where we stand, okay?"

I felt a strange constriction in my throat, and for the first time since school began, my words failed me. I could only nod.

Lauren's mom pulled up in a boxy silver van, and both girls rose and picked up their packs.

"We're not mad at you, Fenn," Lauren assured me. "We told you this because we want to stay friends. We'll see you next week, okay?"

She gave me a smile; then she and Avery climbed aboard the van, which carried them away.

They might not be angry, but they were certainly unhappy with me.

And now I, too, was unhappy, for I did not understand why.

Ari would explain, I was certain.

In the meantime, I sat alone, hugging my kitty pack, and thinking that having friends was a more difficult endeavor than I had expected it to be.

I do wish, in retrospect, that elusive boys, misplaced jealousy and casting conflicts had remained the height of my troubles, but by the following week they would seem as trifles.

For by then, death itself would have visited the school.