Save Me

by Stephanie Street

  Scowling, I dug the script with his name on it out of the pile. It was a good thing he’d shown up. Auditions would go a lot better if we were able to see him interacting with possible co-stars. “Stop that,” I said, shoving the script into his stomach.

  “Stop what?”

  “Being all concerned. You can’t ask me if I’m okay every time you see me. That would be really annoying.” I pushed my glasses up on my nose again and wondered for the millionth time if I should give my contacts another shot.

  “Caring about you is annoying,” Cole asked, his eyes wide.

  I slapped the stack of papers back down on the table and met his gaze. “Yes. It is very annoying. We aren’t going to start hanging out again. We aren’t friends.” Dang. I hadn’t meant to say that. But the damage was done. Cole’s eyes which had shined with concern and dare I say, affection, flickered with hurt before shuttering completely.

  “Right.” He pretended to study the sheets in his hand. “I guess I’ll sit over here and read through some lines before people get here.”

  “Cole-”

  “No. Don’t worry. I get it.” He said the words over his shoulder as he made his way to the end of the row and sat down.

  Frustrated, I swiped my glasses off my face and began cleaning the lenses with the hem of my shirt. I did not want to let Cole get to me like this, but he needed to understand. No one at school knew about our history and I wanted to keep it that way. Let them think what they wanted about his motivation for being in my play, all that matter was that he was doing it.

  A commotion at the back of the auditorium drew my attention from the notes I’d been checking over. Looking up, I saw several people entering the auditorium, talking and laughing and teasing each other.

  “No way Cole Parker is doing this play,” I heard one of them saying.

  “I know, I just can’t even. But the flyer said, so-” I saw who was speaking then. Two sophomore girls. I only knew that because I spent my free hour helping Mr. Trent with his Biology class and they both were in it.

  “Oh, my gosh! There he is!” This last one came from another girl. I’d seen her around, but didn’t know anything about her, except that her voice got really high when she squealed. I waited to see how Cole would react. I knew he would be nice, that’s just how he was. In the last three years since his popularity had skyrocketed, I’d never seen him be unkind or cruel to anyone- no matter how annoying they were.

  Still, it was weird watching him be fawned over by three-quarters of the school’s female population. Sometimes, when I was definitely not noticing him, I saw the toll it took on him. He was constantly surrounded by people. Girls vying for his attention. Guys hoping to ride his coattails. Even the teachers were bad. In three years, Cole and I have only had one class together, sophomore Language Arts. During that semester, the teacher, Mr. Franks, had sacrificed more than one class period to discussing sports with Cole (and everyone else, too. I, on the other hand, read a book.). I mean, come on! I like it when teachers go off on tangents as much as the next teenager, but seriously, no one was getting paid to talk football stats.

  Anyway, I imagined Cole’s popularity could be compared to that of a minor celebrity. It just seemed like he was never alone and on more than one occasion I’d seen the wariness in his eyes. In fact, I was seeing it right now.

  Within minutes, the auditorium was half full. Students of all shapes, sizes, and social status had piled through the doors and now sat, chatting excitedly. I was stunned. It’s what I’d been going for, asking for Cole’s help, but until I actually saw the bodies in the room, I guess I never really believed it would happen. I would never underestimate his celebrity status again.

  The best news- not everyone in the room was female. While many of the parts were for female roles, I needed a couple of strong male characters and I could tell Cole had done some recruiting of his own because there were several guys from both the football and basketball teams sitting close to him.

  “Testing. Can everybody hear me?” Ms. Lewis asked from the front of the auditorium, her mouth pressed to a microphone.

  “Yes,” several voices called out.

  “Good. For those of you who don’t know, I am Ms. Lewis and I am serving as sponsor for the newly formed Cambridge High Drama Club.” Ms. Lewis paused and there was a smattering of applause in response to this announcement. “Thank you. But as sponsor, my role is mostly as mentor and counselor. I will be here for every meeting, rehearsal, and production, but I am not in charge. That honor belongs to the new president of the Drama Club, Joie Warner.”

  Ms. Lewis paused again, but the response to this information was even more lukewarm than it had been for her. Pursing her lips, Ms. Lewis continued. “This year’s production will be a play written completely by Joie. She will be directing and will have final say in decisions about set design, casting, and well, just about everything else. As some of you may know, we have already determined who will play the role of Calvin, the play’s lead male role. Please, give a round of applause for Cole Parker!”

  The auditorium erupted with clapping, whistling, and even catcalls. A couple of the girls began shrieking. Good grief. He was just a high school senior, not freaking Mark Wahlberg. Cole glanced my way and caught me looking at him. I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out the corner of my mouth. He threw back his head and laughed. Cole would always be Cole to me.

  Cole

  Talk about keeping me grounded. Joie sure knew how to knock me down a peg. I was pretty used to the attention by now, but this environment felt a little strange. Getting cheered for making a play on the field was one thing, having girls screaming my name pretty much for just being in the room was quite another.

  “Thank you, Cole.” Ms. Lewis lifted a brow and I took that as my queue to sit back down. “Now,” she cleared her throat to quiet the room. “Before we get started, I’ll turn the time over to Joie.”

  Ms. Lewis handed the mic to Joie who looked nervous enough to up-chuck her lunch all over the first row. Ah, Joie.

  “Thanks, Ms. Lewis. And thanks to all of you for coming this afternoon. As you must know, or you wouldn’t be here, I’ve written a play and hope to produce it for performances this spring. The script and my direction of the performances will serve as my audition to three different schools I’ve applied to.” Joie paused. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. How did no one else notice how amazing she was? I knew this play was important to her, but hearing her say it was her audition into three schools? I was proud of her and upset at the same time. Why was all this happening in her life and I was just now hearing about it?

  “First, I want to thank Cole for agreeing to perform the role of Calvin, our male lead, and I want to thank Ms. Lewis for taking a chance on me and my play. Lastly, I want to thank all of you for coming tonight to audition. We will start with the female roles and move through everyone just reading from one scene. Ms. Lewis and I and Cole will all be watching to see which roles you might work for and those who aren’t chosen for a part are welcome to continue with production in a behind-the-scenes capacity. Thanks again for coming.”

  She sounded so professional and suddenly, I felt completely inadequate. What made Joie believe I could do this role? I got it that she needed someone with the popularity to draw out the skeptics, but what about the acting, the performance? Joie had a lot riding on this play, what made her think I was the answer?

  Joie collected information sheets she’d handed out while Ms. Lewis had been speaking earlier. She briefly shuffled through them before calling out a name. And so, it went for the next two hours. Names were called. Lines were read. Instructions and advice were given. Joie called for me to read with several people and I did the best I could but wasn’t able to get a read on Joie’s reaction at all. It was frustrating to say the least. I found myself growing more and more distraught as the night wore on. Joie seemed to sink lower and lower into her chair as exhaustion set in.

  Finally, Ms. Lewis set down the stack of
information sheets. There were still about half of them to go through. Ms. Lewis announced auditions were finished for the night and invited those who hadn’t had the opportunity to audition yet to come back the next night.

  Jeez. Another night? I remembered Joie telling me auditions were going to go for three nights. It sounded awful.

  “Bro, what is going on with you?” I turned to see three of my guys heading my way. Jason, Brent, and Mason were all on the football and basketball teams with me and were some of my best friends.

  “What do you mean?” Here it came. The razzing. I tried to play it cool. Joie thought I was invincible. Ha.

  “I thought it was some joke, man,” Brent spoke up, eying people as they made their way out of the auditorium.

  “Yeah, me too. Why are you in some play, dude,” Jason asked, his eyes following some eye candy from the junior class. She winked at him as she passed us by. “Hey, shawty.” He nodded and took a step toward her. Brent yanked him back by his collar.

  “Dude. Seriously, do you ever stop?” Brent shook his head in disgust. Jason was definitely the ladies’ man between all of us. Not that we didn’t have game, but Jason was in a class all his own.

  “Did you see her? Where she been all year?” Jason still tracked the girl as she walked through the double doors leading out of the auditorium.

  “Chick is only a junior, J,” I informed him.

  “So?”

  “So, we leave this place in less than three months.” Idiot.

  “Shit, Parker, I’m not looking for a relationship.” Jason stared at me wide eyed.

  “Would you two knock it off.” Brent, ever the voice of reason.

  “Yeah, aren’t we here to save Parker from himself?” Mason laughed, punching my shoulder.

  “Hilarious.” I wasn’t in the mood for these guys. And I for sure wasn’t in the mood to explain about Joie. Not that I would even if I was.

  “What gives, Cole? You got a thing for nerd girl over there or something?” Jason gestured to where Joie stood packing up her stuff.

  Normally, I could brush off a comment like that, roll my eyes and laugh with the guys. But Jason hit a little too close to home and he didn’t even know it. Plus, everyone knew Joie as the weird girl who spent ninety-nine percent of her time in la-la-land. It didn’t help that she wore her gorgeous hair in a messy bun that made it look like it hadn’t been brushed in days, sported jeans and graphic t’s rather than the trendy crap other girls wore and stuck tenaciously to her thick-rimmed glasses instead of wearing contacts. The girl just didn’t know how to help herself.

  I knew that was how the guys saw her, but I saw something different. I knew Joie’s coffee-with-too-much-cream eyes like the back of my own hand. When I saw her messy bun, all I remembered were summer days floating on our backs in my parent’s swimming pool, her glossy hair fanning out around us. And those t-shirts? Each one reminded me of summers and weekends in my basement watching Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and every superhero movie ever made.

  I also knew something else my friends didn’t. I knew if they didn’t get the picture that Joie was off limits to them in every conceivable way- I was going to have to beat each and every one of them bloody.

  “Don’t call her that.” The words came out low and menacing.

  “Whoa, Parker. Got a soft spot?” Jason pretended to consider Joie, checking her out and making my blood boil. “I don’t know, man. She could be hot under all that mess. Give her a tight shirt and-”

  That was all it took. One second my hands were fisted at my sides and the next they were clenched in the neck of Jason’s shirt. “Don’t.”

  “Man-” Jason’s eyes widened with shock and a bit of fear. I jerked his face closer to mine.

  “Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t talk about her. Just. Don’t.” Jason’s face was turning red.

  “Hey. Cole. Man. He was just messing around.” Mason laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Yeah, c’mon, man, let him go,” Brent added.

  With a final squeeze, I pushed Jason away. He straightened his shirt. “What is wrong with you, dude?” Jason motioned like he was going to get in my face. Mason and Brent both stepped between us.

  “Keep mouthing off and you’ll find out.” My hands made fists at my sides again.

  “Cole. Jason. Stop.” Brent pushed at my shoulder. “What’s your deal, man?” Brent frowned in my direction.

  Sighing, I took in my friend’s bewildered faces and knew I had to back down. They were just being themselves and for the most part I was just like them. But Joie… they had no idea how I felt about Joie. Hell, Joie had no idea. Glancing over to where she’d been standing, I noticed she was still there. Only now, her bag was packed and she watched me with my friends, her face screwed up in a frown.

  Allowing my shoulders to relax back into their normal shape, I started toward her. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Chapter 8

  Joie

  My dad used to beat us. My mom and me. My mom and me. I can never remember a time I wasn’t afraid of him. But he was pretty, and he always smelled good. His smile was handsome, and he dressed nice when he left the house for the day to go to work. I used to imagine him as this sort of changeling. I thought maybe when he was home he dressed nice and smiled pretty and acted like a monster and then when he left for the day he shed his handsomeness but turned angelic. The theory became so real, I became jealous of the rest of the world. All those other people who missed out on the nice-looking dad but were able to enjoy the one that didn’t hit me.

  So, that’s it. The big secret. Cole found out when we were little kids. My dad would wake us up to his own special brand of torture and then leave for the day to spread his angel’s wings leaving my mother and I home to cope in his absence. Mom retreated to her make-believe land, writing novels in her office. I hid behind the trash bins. Yeah. I have no idea why. It just seemed the place to go. From there, I could see up and down the street. From there, I could see when he was coming home.

  It was behind the trash bins that Cole found me. I’d seen him before, the happy little boy who lived across the street. When we were younger, Cole had white blond hair that his mom let grow a little long, so it was always flopping around his forehead when he ran. And it seemed to me the little blonde boy was always running. Cole ran to chase balls. Cole ran to chase bugs. Cole ran away when his mom called him in for lunch. When Cole ran, he smiled, and so it seemed to me that Cole was always smiling.

  The day Cole found me beside the trash bin, we were both four years old. We lived on a quiet street and Mrs. Parker’s kitchen faced the front of the house and so Cole played under her watchful eye as she washed the breakfast dishes. Cole marched right to me, his Ninja Turtle sneakers lighting up with each step.

  “Whatcha doing?” His voice was loud and brash, just like his walk was sure and confident.

  “Nothin’,” I responded, barely above a whisper.

  “Huh?” He leaned his head closer, his face screwed up with confusion. “Wud you say?”

  “Nothing,” I said again only marginally louder. Cole stood straight, but his eyes squinted as he looked at me- deciding. Finally, having come to some conclusion, he shrugged.

  “Alright. Want to play,” he asked, holding out his hand to help me up off the ground behind the trash bins.

  I could still see that moment in my mind like it was a snapshot only no one was there to capture the memory on film. I wish I was the type of artist that could pull a picture out of their mind and capture it on paper, but I’m not. There have been so many memories since that first day, so many times Cole’s joy, and innocence had stamped itself on my mind and heart, I could fill a dozen scrapbooks with those snapshots if I had them.

  Probably the best- and the worst- was the moment Cole understood what was happening to me when the handsome man came home after shedding his monster suit and angelic personality. It was the summer we were five. We’d been friends for a year and once this s
ummer was over we’d go to kindergarten together. A big theme of our play during those warm summer months had been teacher and student. Not surprisingly, I was the teacher and Cole, my naughty student. Usually, I appreciated Cole’s exuberance, but even I knew you had to behave in school and it was the teacher’s responsibility to keep things in line.

  Cole had been messing around, as usual, and drawing on the only authoritarian I knew with any certainty, I called him a nasty name and smacked him- hard. I’d learned long ago how to react to such things, but Cole- well, Cole had never been struck before in his life. I’d been shocked speechless, and devastated, by his reaction. It’s not a photo I would want for my scrapbook, but I would never forget the way his big, innocent, blue eyes filled with tears as he looked at me with such hurt and humiliation. It took a day or two, if I remember right, for us to get past that incident.

  I have to wonder now, looking back, at Cole’s intuition or whatever it was that led him to make the connection he did between our little spat and the reason I hid behind the trash bins. But one morning, he came looking for me, his eyes filled with the same pain as he glanced between me and my house. I realize now, in a way I couldn’t have then, but Cole finally saw it for what it was- the agony in my eyes. He’d never known before, because he’d never experienced it himself. Cole lost a little of his innocence that summer.

  We never talked about it, at least not for a few more years, but after that, Cole became my self-proclaimed protector. He saved me from spiderwebs stretched across the door to our secret fort. He saved me from threading worms on my hook when we went fishing. He saved me from ramming into the side of his house when we went sledding down the hill out back. He saved me from the darkness when darkness was all that was there.

  “Do you need a ride home?” Startled from my memories, I glanced up to see him staring at me with unfathomable eyes. Only someone who knows your secrets can see you like that.

  “I have my bike.” Looking around, I realized the auditorium was empty. Where did everyone go? Where did his friends go? Weren’t they just here?