Closets, Curtain Calls, and Catholic School Chaos

Carrie Byrd delivers a whimsical and refreshing twist on the classic enemies-to-lovers trope in Loser of the Year, her smart and emotionally satisfying debut. With humor, heart, and just enough heat, Byrd crafts a love story that’s both grounded and delightfully offbeat.

The novel centers on Mattie, a Jewish, out-of-work actor who takes a reluctant detour from her stalled career and ends up teaching drama at St. Rita’s, an all-girls Catholic school. The job comes with an uncomfortable caveat—St. Rita’s strict morality clause, which frowns upon Mattie’s open queerness and messy, divorced past. She’s not exactly thrilled, but rent is due and roles are scarce.

Enter Jillian, the school’s stoic, closeted P.E. teacher and head soccer coach. Jillian is everything Mattie is not—measured, private, and devoutly rule-abiding. When the two are voluntold to co-direct the annual school musical, tension brews fast. At first, it’s friction—two opposites forced into close creative quarters—but underneath the snide remarks and eye rolls is something deeper, a current neither of them is quite ready to name.

What follows is a tender, slow-burn romance anchored by sharp banter and surprising vulnerability. Mattie and Jillian must navigate not just their clashing personalities, but also the looming threat of St. Rita’s morality clause. For Mattie, it’s a familiar battle against institutions that want her to hide or apologize for who she is. For Jillian, it’s a challenge to everything she’s ever known—especially the parts of herself she’s never dared to question.

Byrd doesn’t stop at her leads. The supporting cast brings dynamic fire into the fold: Gabe, Mattie’s former theater mentor, infuses scenes with warmth and wistful nostalgia; Cynthia, the rigid school principal, serves as a believable and maddening obstacle, never tipping into caricature. Each secondary character adds weight, humor, or conflict that elevates the story without crowding it.

Loser of the Year stands out not only for its clever premise, but for the emotional intelligence woven throughout. Byrd allows her characters to fumble, to protect themselves when love feels too risky, and to wrestle with internalized shame and external pressure. The result is a debut that feels lived-in and honest, with moments of levity that shine just as brightly as its emotional depths.

Bravo to Byrd for penning such a confident, well-paced first novel. Her dialogue crackles, her pacing never lags, and her characters will stick with you long after the final curtain call. I’ll be keeping an eye out for whatever comes next—and hoping for an encore.