I was pleased to learn that I had in no way misjudged Madison.

“Plus, I’m the only one in this cast that’s going to college for drama, okay?” Madison continued. “I mean, I’m going to drama school at the U.”

“You got in?” I could hear the other girl was impressed at this news. “I didn’t realize you’d heard yet.”

There was a pause and I heard the rustling as papers were wadded up and the clink of metal hangars being collected.

“Of course I got in,” Madison said smugly. “I’m just trying not to rub it anyone’s face, you know? Because I’m classy like that.”

I held back the vomit.

“Sure,” her friend said. “Well, cool. I’m glad you got in. And I guess it’s sorta good that Amanda disappeared. For you, I mean.”

“Like I said,” Madison said. “Amanda was a lame Snow White.”

I pushed myself off the floor and gathered the dwarf costumes for Grace and Sophie. If I had to sit back there and listen any longer, the remaining costumes were going to be covered in my own barf. I picked up my purse, then cleared my throat. Loudly. I then cleared it again, giving them a few seconds to make sure they knew someone was back there before stepping out into the main room.

They were both staring at me.

“Oh, hello, girls,” I said, smiling at them. “I was just picking up costumes.”

“We didn’t know you were back there,” Madison said, her porcelain skin turning pink.

“No?” I asked innocently. “The door was open, wasn’t it?”

She looked at her friend, who I recognized as a girl named Holly. If I remembered correctly, she was playing the part of a deer in the forest.

“So you’re going to be Snow White?” I asked Madison, still smiling. “Did they already hold the auditions for Amanda’s replacement?” I paused, then gestured at the door to the back room. “The door was open. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Her pink cheeks turned a startling red. “Well, I, um...you know, it’s kind of rude to eavesdrop on people, alright?”

“Technically, it’s not eavesdropping if I’m in the room next door and the door is open,” I pointed out sweetly.

She tugged at her long, perfect blond braid and blinked her large brown eyes. “Eavesdropping is when you listen to other people’s conversations, which is what you just did.” She looked down her nose at me. “And eavesdropping is rude.”

“It’s also a little rude to argue with people you don’t know.” I adjusted the costumes in my arms. “But back to Snow White. Your mother already held auditions? I didn’t realize that—”

Madison cut me off and turned to look at her friend. “We should get back, Holly.”

Holly surveyed the still messy floor. She chewed on her bottom lip. “But your mom said she wanted this room cleaned up—”

“I don’t care!” Madison said. She shot a quick glance at me and then turned back to her friend. “We need to go!”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said, not bothering to hide my pleasure at seeing her so flustered.

“I don’t have to,” Madison said, glaring at me. “You should just mind your own business.”

“I probably should,” I admitted. “But I think I’d rather let the other moms here know that we have a new Snow White. Just as soon as I leave this room.”

Madison froze, still glaring at me. I could tell she wasn’t sure what to do. And I also could tell that she wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions – which wasn’t a great thing for someone who professed to be an actress. Maybe she would’ve been better off playing a deer. Or a tree.

“Seriously,” she finally said. “You should just mind your own business, lady. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

I glanced at Holly, who looked as if she would’ve paid a million dollars to be anywhere but in the middle of this conversation.

“Maybe I misheard you, then?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Maybe you aren’t going to be Snow White? Maybe you’re just hoping?”

Madison Bandersand’s nostrils flared and her mouth flattened into an angry, tight line and she suddenly looked like a much younger version of her mother. She grabbed Holly by the arm and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

FIVE

“Can you believe that?” I said to Jake as I grabbed the container of coffee from the kitchen cupboard. “The nerve of that snotty kid.”

Jake leaned against the counter and shrugged. “Doesn’t really sound out of character. And from what you said, she hasn’t officially been named Snow White yet.”

I’d waited in the hallway after my confrontation with Madison and then returned home with the girls, the costumes and the groceries. Jake had done the dishes and put the leftovers away, and I was getting the coffeemaker set for the morning.

“But still,” I said, glancing out into the living room to make sure there were no little ears attempting to listen in. “To go around telling everyone you’re getting the part? And to act like you don’t even care about the girl that no one can seem to find?”

He picked up a can of peanuts off the counter and pulled off the lid. “Uh, have you paid attention to her mother? She seems like exactly the kind of kid that lady would raise.”

I moved to the sink and filled the coffee carafe with water. “But you don’t just go around telling everyone you’re going to be the star unless you know it’s going to happen.”

“I thought it was just her and another girl in the room...”

“You know what I mean.” I turned the tap off. “ If she told one person, don’t you think she’s told more? I mean, it didn’t sound like she and Holly were great friends or anything.”

“I didn’t know you were such an expert on identifying the depths of friendship.” I glared at him and he winked. “Have you considered that perhaps her mother did, in fact, tell her that she would be Snow White?”

“Without another audition? Without giving anyone else a shot at it?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, reaching for another handful of peanuts. “That sounds exactly like what that insane woman would do. I mean, isn’t this the first show that her kid hasn’t been the star of? She normally casts her kid in the biggest role, right? So why would it be any different now that she has an opening?”

We’d heard the rumors when we’d signed on for the play. Friends of friends who’d breathed a sigh of relief that it was just the younger girls auditioning. When we asked why, the answer was universal: because Madison Bandersand always got the lead role. I’d done a little digging, pulling up information on their web site and the rumors appeared to be true. Not only did they mostly perform plays with female leads, but Madison was always cast, or double-cast, as the lead. Jake and I had actually been pleasantly surprised when we’d found out that she wasn’t playing Snow White in the production; in fact, she had a relatively minor role on stage and was helping with choreography instead.

“I don’t know,” I said, irritated. “It just doesn’t seem fair. And no one seems to care about this Amanda. The girl that’s missing. Is anyone wondering where she is?”

He chuckled. “Apparently you are.”

I poured the water into the coffeemaker and reached for the can of hazelnut coffee. “Aren’t you?”

“Sure, but I don’t know the girl and I don’t know anything about her,” he said. “She might be at home with the flu. Or with her family in Europe. It’s hard for me to get riled up over something I don’t know much about.”

Which was exactly like him. He rarely jumped to conclusions and often playfully mocked me for doing so. He waited until he could see evidence and then he’d think about making a judgment. It was annoying, mainly because, more often than not, he was able to mock me again for having turned nothing into something — when it had always been nothing.

Except for when it had been dead bodies and stolen computers. I smiled to myself. He wasn’t always right.

“The way that Madison was talking, it was almost like she was glad Amanda was missing,” I said, scooping out grounds. “Like maybe she knew something about it.”