The First Musical: Chapter Three: Gisele, Part 3

“Where have you been?” Carmen asked the moment I stepped through the door. She had sprawled out on her bed, reading the text for her discussion class. The rest of her textbooks and school things were scattered across the floor in a haphazard mess.

“Nowhere.” I didn’t want to talk with her about it. She still wanted that lead, and I would be perfectly happy giving it to her if I could. It wasn’t my choice, though; it was his and I wished it wasn’t.

“What’s wrong, Gisele?” she asked, sitting up on her bed. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I murmured, trying to focus on my math homework for the next day.

“Something’s wrong; I can tell.”

I slipped into the sweater on the back of my chair, pulling it tight around me. Cold still seemed to wrap me in a death grip; I just couldn’t seem to warm up. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t tell me that, Gisele.”

“I’m trying to concentrate,” I snapped. She wouldn’t understand. She’d blame me and any number of things. Between Johnathan, his musical, and having auditioned against my wishes, I couldn’t handle whatever she thought she could do to help. She’d probably do more to worsen things.

After a while I gave up on hoping calculus would make sense and started to regret snapping at Carmen. But she hadn’t bothered me since, so it wasn’t so bad? It just wasn’t me. I couldn’t remember snapping at anyone in the past several years. I felt ambivalent about it. Like Johnathan and everything was changing me into some unrecognizable.

Climbing into bed for the night, my back to Carmen and her unusual silence, I struggled to find sleep. Between singing that song—to Johnathan of all people—and everything else the day had revealed, my mind was too preoccupied to stop thinking.

Even though I’m certain I did eventually fall asleep, I couldn’t be sure. It felt like I opened my eyes every ten minutes to escape the images of Johnathan running through my mind. I couldn’t make heads or tails of him, but I would be happy if I never saw again.

But my nightmares were closer to reality.