I pick up the phone to call Emme. “Hey, Emme!”

Amanda sulks on the couch. She desperately wants to be the one to write my songs for me. But she can’t. Emme is a way better songwriter.

“Hi, Sophie!”

No matter how long I go without talking to Emme, she’s always there for me. She’s a true friend.

“I have a question about the auditions. Do you know if they’re expecting anybody to arrive in period costume?”

“Um, the show is set at the beginning of the nineteenth century, so I doubt it.”

“No, I know, but I figure I should try to look conservative. Do you know what the sight song is?”

For the audition, we have to sing a song from the musical — I’ll obviously be doing “Send in the Clowns” — but then we’re also forced to sing a song from sheet music, completely unprepared. Which I’ve always hated to do. Plus, it makes zero sense because all the songs we’re performing are from the musical. There aren’t any originals. I think Dr. Ryan, the director of the musical, is doing it solely to make it difficult for me to get the part. She beyond favors Sarah, it’s so ridiculous. I swear, I even once heard Sarah call Dr. Ryan by her first name, Pam. Like that is appropriate student-teacher behavior. It seems that Sarah is doing whatever it takes to get ahead, so I’m just following her lead.

“You know that I’m not allowed to tell you that,” Emme says softly.

I wish Emme realized that all is not fair in auditions and war.

“I know, but I get so nervous during auditions, especially if you aren’t there backing me up.”

“But I will be there.”

Dammit. “Yeah, but it won’t be just you and me. I feel all alone in this, and you know, I …” I know what will work with Emme. I start working up tears. “I really need this, Em. And you are the only one who can help me. I need you. Please.”

I sniffle while Emme takes her time to respond. Amanda flips through one of my magazines.

“The problem is that it’s an original song. Dr. Ryan asked Ethan to use one of his songs for the audition.”

Crap. Ethan. Probably the person who would most love to see me fail. That guy has not liked me since day one and he’s all overprotective of Emme, like she belongs to him. She owes him nothing. I’m the reason she’s at CPA, not him.

“Why does he hate me so much, Em? Why?” I wish Dr. Ryan could see me now; I’d be guaranteed the part. My voice cracks and everything.

“He doesn’t … oh, Sophie. I’m so sorry that you’re upset. Let me see what I can do.”

“You know that I’m eternally grateful to you, right, Em? I’m going to entitle my first album Emme is my BFF and I owe her everything.”

I go on and on about how amazing and wonderful she is and pretend that talking to her has made everything better. I hang up the phone and see Amanda staring at me. “Oh, Emme!” She exaggerates her words. “You are the best thing ever, thank you for getting off your high horse for two seconds to help li’l ol’ me.”

I bust out laughing. I can’t believe how needy I sounded.

“Enough about Emme.” I pick up my outfit to try it on. “I’ve got a role to win.”

Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth with Emme. You’d think she’d want to help her best friend land a role that could change her life, but she keeps saying things like she’ll “get in trouble” or Ethan will “kill” her.

Does she not realize that this is how show business works? It’s a tough place and you have to take whatever advantages you can. For me, that’s knowing as much about the audition as possible. And the person who can give me that is Emme.

Although, if I have to keep forcing tears with her, I’m going to have nothing left for the actual audition. Not with the constant role I play in Who Loves Emme More? I’ve even been wearing the bracelet she bought me for Christmas or my birthday or something a few years ago. I know how much it means to her that I wear it. It’s not really my style, it’s cutesy — like Emme. My style is more fashion-forward, modern chic.

Anyway, I decide to sit it out. She’ll crack if I give her the silent treatment.

She just sits there and studies on her bed. She isn’t even looking at me. Or noticing that I’m mad at her.

Different strategy. “Ahem!” I say loudly.

She looks up. Bingo.

“So sorry, Em. I’m just thinking about the Senior Showcase and hoping that I have enough major parts coming up to be considered for the audition.”

We aren’t even allowed to audition for the showcase; we are asked. And even then, your spot isn’t guaranteed.

“But it won’t matter, I guess. I’m singing one of your songs after all. No one can say no to an Emme Connelly song.”

Flattery, my dears, gets you everywhere.

She smiles at me … then starts reading from her history book.

“Have you decided what songs you’re going to put on your CD for your senior thesis?”

She looks up. “Um, not really. I know a few. I’m starting to work on a new song for the showcase, plus I need a couple more for the college auditions.”

Then something hits me.

“You know what’s awesome. Your senior project is perfect. It helps you with your college applications and we can use it as my demo.”

Emme bites her lip. Her and her stupid lip biting. Just flippin’ spit it out if you have something to say!