Kitten

“You’re early,” Eric stated flatly, watching Ryan stalk silently down the hall towards the dressing room. “Hey! Kitty! Aren’t you going to say hello?”

Ryan swung around to meet Eric’s scornful gaze with an emotionless stare and firmly shook his head.

Then Eric had Ryan’s chin grasped between his strong hands. “Say something,” he ordered. “Say something!” he shouted when Ryan just shook his head again. “You worthless little whore,” he hissed and released Ryan, throwing him away him. “You better find your voice in time for the show tonight.”

Ryan fled to the women’s dressing room and ran inside even though it was taboo for him to enter.

“Ryan?” Lizzie asked, looking up from sorting costumes as the boy entered the room. “What’re you doing here?” Ryan shrugged. “You’re lucky that no one else is in here,” she told him, walking over to his side. “What’s up?”

Ryan pulled a notebook and pen from his messenger bag—

I need your help.

“What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked with concern, gently touching Ryan on the arm. “Why can’t you talk?”

I’m afraid to, Ryan wrote. Nobody ever listens when I do.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Lizzie commanded in a gentle voice, leading Ryan over to sit on a costume box.

Have you ever been hurt by someone who’s supposed to love you?

Lizzie bit her lip when she read that. “Yeah,” she whispered, deathly quiet. “I … my dad.”

Ryan gave her a sympathetic look and awkwardly patted her shoulder before writing: And what if you love them? What do you do?

“What happened?” Lizzie asked, rubbing Ryan’s tender shoulders.

He was drunk last night, Ryan wrote, blinking back tears. And he was pissed at me because I was having sex with someone else even though we’re not dating or anything. Just best friends. With benefits. But I love him.

Flipping the page, Ryan moved on to a new piece of a paper, dropping the used paper on the floor. He asked me how it was and I told him it was good because I knew he wouldn’t believe me if I said otherwise. And then he told me that he could do better and he—Ryan paused here, unsure how to continue, and Lizzie patiently waited—forced himself upon me.

“Can I ask who he is?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Brendon. The waiter from the diner.

“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” Lizzie whispered and wrapped her arms around Ryan in a tight hug.

He didn’t stop when I asked him to, Ryan wrote, tears flowing freely now.

“We’re going out for breakfast, you and I, right now,” Lizzie told him firmly and took his head. “I know a lovely café down the street.”

Ryan obediently followed her, letting the notebook of loose papers fall out of his lap to the ground.

Once at they were seated at the café, Lizzie just started talking, telling Ryan funny little stories, trying to distract the depressed boy. “You know Louis, the guy who plays Reinfeld?” she asked brightly and Ryan nodded. “So, we don’t often tell people this, but we’re actually cousins.”

Ryan’s eyebrows flew up in surprise and a small smile managed to find its way onto his face.

“He’s actually the one who introduced me to the theatre, and now I just can’t get enough of it,” Lizzie continued, smiling back at Ryan. “He was Daddy Warbucks in a high school production of Annie and he got so into it that he decided to shave his head! Turns out, he has a really weirdly shaped head.”

A small giggle escaped from Ryan’s lips, the only sound other than whimpering he had made all day, and Lizzie ordered two lattes from the bored-looking waitress.

“So, um, Ryan,” Lizzie began hesitantly, taking a sip from her drink once it arrived. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Ryan sort of shrugged and sort of nodded his head so Lizzie assumed that he was giving his permission to ask away.

“You, uh, mentioned earlier that you were having sex with someone else,” she said in a nervous voice. “Um, is it … someone at the theatre?”

Ryan blinked and ripped his paper napkin up into little strips, worrying Lizzie until he began laying them out so that they formed four letters.

E-R-I-C

Lizzie covered her mouth in shock and Ryan brushed his hand across the table, scattering the strips of paper. “Why?” Lizzie asked quietly, finding a pen and a piece of scrap paper in her purse and sliding them over to Ryan.

Because I’m afraid that he’ll take my dream away from me if I refuse me.