Leo followed Principal Bark into an office lined with trophies and faded motivational posters. The scent of old paper and coffee hung in the air. He braced himself for the usual questions—Why did you leave your last school? What's wrong with you?—but the principal surprised him.
"Welcome, Leo," Bark said, gesturing to a chair. His voice was warm, like worn leather. "Shelly mentioned you're new. We're glad to have you." He slid a schedule across the desk. "Advanced theater, vocal ensemble, and modern dance. Impressive résumé."
Leo's shoulders relaxed a fraction. No comments on his neon jersey or his weight. Just facts. "Thank you, sir."
"Call me Mr. Bark. And don't let Michael rattle you." The principal's eyes twinkled. "He's got a chip on his shoulder since his sister's breakup with Jack. But he's harmless. Mostly."
Outside, Michael leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone. When Leo emerged, he snapped it shut. "Survived the lion's den?"
"Barely," Leo muttered, adjusting his backpack.
"Relax, Broadway." Michael pushed off the wall, falling into step beside him. "I'm your tour guide. Bark's orders."
The hallways buzzed with locker slams and laughter. Leo kept his gaze fixed ahead, but Michael's presence was a live wire.
"So," Michael said, nodding at Leo's boots. "Starlight. You were the lead?"
Leo's chest tightened. The memories flooded back—the director's sneer ("Too dark for a romantic lead"), the costume fittings ("Can we pad this? You're… soft"). He swallowed. "Understudy. Never went on."
Michael whistled. "Still. That's big." He stopped abruptly near a bulletin board plastered with auditions. "You should try out for the fall musical. We're doing Rent."
Leo froze. Rent. The show he'd dreamed of since he was twelve. But the last four years had buried that dream under layers of "no." He traced the edge of a flyer with his thumb. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" Michael's laugh was sharp. "You've got the chops, right? Or was Starlight just luck?"
Leo's jaw clenched. "Why do you care?"
Michael stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Because Jack's my best friend. And he doesn't stop talking about the 'funny new guy' he met this morning." A smirk played on his lips. "Also, I hate wasted talent."
The dance studio loomed at the end of the hall. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting Leo's hesitant frame. Inside, a woman in a flowing scarf demonstrated a pirouette to a cluster of students.
"Ms. Rivera," Michael whispered. "She's intense but fair. Doesn't give a damn about how you look."
Leo's breath hitched. No private critiques about his clothes? No probing about his dating life? For the first time in years, hope flickered.
Ms. Rivera spotted them. "Michael! Who's your shadow?"
"Leo. New transfer."
Her eyes scanned Leo—not judging, assessing. "Join us. We're working on Cunningham techniques."
As Leo slipped off his boots, Michael lingered in the doorway. "See you around, Leo."
The dismissal should've stung. Instead, Leo felt a strange lightness. Michael's teasing felt less like an attack and more like… interest.
After class, Leo found Jack waiting by his locker. "Hey! Rivera's awesome, right?"
Leo nodded, smiling. "She is."
"Avoiding Michael?" Jack grinned. "He texted me. Said you're 'mysteriously talented.' High praise."
Leo's cheeks warmed. "He's… confusing."
"Tell me about it." Jack leaned in conspiratorially. "He's been burned before. His last boyfriend used him to get to his dad's Broadway connections."
Ah. The pieces clicked. Michael's flirty taunts, his obsession with Starlight—it wasn't just malice. It was armor.
As Leo turned to leave, he caught Michael watching him from across the hall. Their eyes locked. Michael raised a hand—half-wave, half-salute—before vanishing around a corner.
Leo touched the audition flyer crumpled in his pocket. Rent. The word pulsed like a heartbeat.
Maybe, he thought, this school isn't an ending. It's a beginning.