Daisy Lyter's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

The scene felt true in her room. But a room was not a stage. Daisy needed someone to watch and tell her the truth. If the anger looked fake to other eyes, she'd lose the part again, and she wouldn't know until it was too late. She needed outside eyes before Friday. Shelby was the obvious choice. Daisy caught her at her locker between classes. Shelby grabbed books without looking up, flat as ever. She'd been the one who told Daisy how the senior won every year. She knew the directors cold. "Watch my scene," Daisy said. "Tell me if it's real." "Can't." Shelby shut her locker. "I know your plan. I'd just nod. You need someone who's never heard a word of it." She looked at Daisy once, then walked off. That landed harder than Daisy wanted. Shelby was right. She'd coached the choice from the start. Her eyes were already sold. So Daisy went looking for a stranger to the whole thing. She found Sunny Sheer in the art room, a girl she barely knew, pressing paper flowers into a notebook. Sunny wore a flower in her hair and pink shoes, and she smiled like the day was going her way. She knew nothing about the musical or Daisy's angry gamble. That was the point. "Can you watch something and say if it feels fake?" Daisy asked. Sunny set down her glue. "Sure. I'm not good at lying, though." "Good." They found an empty classroom. Daisy's hands went cold. She thought about every year the part slipped away. The anger rose, low and tight, and she let the lines come out quiet. When she finished, Sunny didn't clap. She pushed up her glasses and frowned. "The quiet part," Sunny said. "That part scared me. Your voice barely moved and I believed it." She paused. "But the second you raised it, I stopped. That one line you got loud. It felt like acting." Daisy knew the line. She'd pushed it bigger for effect. "So cut the volume." "Keep it low. The low one was real." Sunny shrugged, like it was obvious. "The loud one I didn't buy." Daisy breathed out. A stranger's ears had found the exact crack. The anger worked when she pressed it down, and broke when she let it out. Now she knew which was which. She ran the scene again that night, keeping every word quiet, even the line she used to shout. It held the whole way through. The fake note was gone. Friday was two days off. The senior's name still sat at the top of the sheet. But Daisy wasn't guessing anymore. She'd tested the choice on fresh eyes and fixed the one flaw. She walked home sure of her performance for the first time, and that certainty was new.