Page 115 of Faultlines

“Claire!”

Sloane’s voice cuts through the chaos as her footsteps patter toward me.

I stop and glance over my shoulder. She has a look that usually precedes trouble.

“You have the look.”

Sloane presses a hand dramatically against her chest. “I’m touched by how accurately you know me.”

Lucy walks past, an armful of vibrant costumes obscuring her face. “Whatever she’s planning, stop her.”

“I’m trying,” I mutter.

Sloane has already vanished, her cackle echoing back like a challenge. Three minutes later, a fresh burst of giggles erupts from the opposite side of the stage. Following the sound, I find a group of students gathered around Sloane.

Taped to the cinder-block wall is a handmade sign:

DIRECTOR CLAIRE BENNETT’S EMERGENCY STRESS RELIEF STATION

Beneath it sits a folding chair, several chocolate bars, a bottle of water, and a sparkly plastic tiara.

“What is this?”

Sloane beams proudly, her hands on her hips. “Professional support.”

Lucy laughs. “I caught her stealing candy from the concession stand.”

“I was not stealing,” she retorts. “I was reallocating resources.”

“Sloane,” I warn.

“What?” She gestures toward the display. “Look, you’re wrangling a middle school drama bomb, your husband just detonated your life, and you have a teenager. If anyone deserves an emergency tiara, it’s you. And if you’re going to have a breakdown, make it glamorous.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “You’re certifiable.”

“And yet wildly beloved.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Not according to my focus groups.”

“You don’t have focus groups.”

“Personal opinions about me. Same thing.”

As we argue, Ellie arrives in full Queen of Hearts attire, pulling me away from this ridiculous conversation. She’s swallowed by the crimson velvet gown, but she holds the bedazzled scepter like she was born to it. Her hair is curled and pinned beneath a gleaming crown. But it’s the nervous excitement in her eyes that makes my chest ache.

“Mom,” she whispers. “We’re almost ready.”

I adjust her crown. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m terrified.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“What if I forget my lines?”

“You won’t.”