Read Online All the Way by Megan Stine - Free Book Online Page A

and down the stage like she owned it, and when I sneaked a look at Tyler, he was staring at her like he was already falling in love.
    Shit.
    I started getting so nervous, I had to run to the restroom to gulp down some water so I wouldn’t puke. So I missed the next few people, but from the applause I could hear, I knew they must have been pretty good, too.
    By the time I got back, Ariel had already sung. Mr. Richards had passed my number, and someone else was up there singing away.
    â€œWhere were you?” Ariel whispered, like she couldn’t believe I’d done such a stupid thing as leave.
    â€œI had to go to the restroom,” I hissed at her. “God!”
    What was this—some kind of major losing streak? Were my astrological stars out of alignment? Was my Karma in need of a tune-up?
    I mean, seriously. How much bad luck can a girl have in one week?
    â€œWell, don’t worry, he’ll probably give you a chance later,” Ariel whispered, like she wasn’t sure I deserved it.
    Thanks. So much for my own private cheerleader.
    The next ten minutes were torture. I had to stand there and watch while half the girls in the senior class sang their hearts out, and all were really good.
    When the last girl had sung, Mr. Richards said, “Okay, time to read. Is Carmen still here?”
    â€œYes!” I blurted out from the back of the auditorium.
    â€œWould you come up? You can be the first to read, please, and then you can sing, if Tanya isn’t too tired.” He glanced at the piano, and Tanya nodded.
    I hurried to the stage, and Mr. Richards pointed to the script that I had clutched in my hand. “Page 40,” he said. “Jordan will read with you.”
    Jordan was the kind of confident guy who always looked comfortable no matter where he was—on the basketball court, on a donkey, or on the stage. He leaped out of his seat, jumped onto the stage, and slouched into a folding chair.
    â€œReady?” he said to me.
    I nodded, and we started the scene.
    I don’t remember all the lines, but it was a scene where Miss Adelaide was talking to Nathan Detroit about her job as a chorus girl at the Hot Box Club. I mean, seriously—the Hot Box Club? God, how come I hadn’t noticed this in the script before? (Answer: I was too busy trying to cram the story, since I hadn’t been able to rent the movie, since someone with the initials NA was basically too freaking selfish to share. In other words, this was all Natalie Anschell’s fault.)
    The minute I said the words “Hot Box,” a few guys burst out laughing in the audience. Of course they were all thinking about the stuff Joey had written on his blog.
    My face turned bright red, and I glanced up at Jordan, who was snickering at the corners of his mouth but struggling to keep a straight face.
    Mr. Richards had no idea why everyone was laughing. He assumed they were just being juvenile and laughing about the phrase “Hot Box.” So he stopped us and said, “Oh, for God’s sake, people. Grow up. Could you please start at the beginning of page 40 again, Carmen?”
    My heart sank. Not again, please.
    I started over and tried to keep reading, but I stumbled on my lines. When I said “Hot Box” again, there was a louder twittering in the auditorium. Then the line “I have to work tonight” came up, and someone yelled out, “Yeah, work it, Carmen!”
    My face flushed hot red; my throat closed up. All of a sudden I felt like a tramp, standing there in a slinky dress slit halfway up my thigh. Like this brilliant idea of dressing in costume had suddenly backfired, and I was the poster girl for the word slut .
    I got through the rest of the page, fighting back the tears, but just barely.
    â€œOkay,” Mr. Richards said, stopping me. “I know Adelaide is supposed to be sniffling all the time, but it’s allergies, Carmen. That was more like tears. Anyway, let’s