He glanced at me. “This is why you were in the office the other day.”
I glared at his back as I walked up the stairs. “Why are you here? Aren’t the stars of the shows too perfect and wonderful for working on the set?”
He smiled. That smile. “You know I’m in the plays and think I’m a star?”
Before I could fling a reply hard enough to knock him off his pedestal, the inside door opened and—my eyes widened. Because it was Paige, a former member of the club. Her round face brightened in her own surprise when she saw me.
Drama Boy picked up his bike, which forced me to take a few steps to my left. Once he and his bike were out of the way, Paige opened the outside door for us.
“I thought I saw someone out here and turned around. Hey, Shane. And Natalie? What are you doing here?” She stood aside and held the door open for him.
“The same reason you are, I’m sure.”
She looked so…happy. And confident. At the club’s start, she’d resembled a scared, wounded rabbit, always looking like someone would pounce on her for breathing too hard. She had her dark-blonde hair pulled back in two French braids, and had on an old pair of jeans with paint splattered on them.
I’d been smart enough to wear my hair up, and jeans, black Converse and a T-shirt under my zip-up hoodie. But my clothes weren’t worn out from manual labor like hers.
“You’re here to work on the set?” Paige followed me into the school.
“It shocked me, too,” Drama Boy threw over his shoulder. He headed left with his bike toward the Theater Department and auditorium. “See you in there, Sunshine.”
I looked at Paige. “What’s his deal? Is he always Mr. I’m-So-Cool-Because-I’m-In-Drama Guy?”
She gave me a cautious smile. “He is really cool and nice. I promise.” She threw her arms around me. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.” She pulled away. “I miss you guys. And the club. It’s so freakin’ cool you’re going to be working on the set.”
At least one of us thought that. And her enthusiastic words about the club and all of us stopped me from telling her what happened at Friday’s meeting; figuring out the what next with the club something else I’d rather be focused on at this moment.
“We should head to the auditorium. I’m sure Mr. Lowry already has kids working.”
I so didn’t want to be here, but seeing Paige made me not want to run from the building.
The feeling disappeared, though, when Mr. Lowry, looking his gray, ponytailed, hippy-ish self, thought it would be a super idea to introduce me to everyone as we stood, steps away from set construction, in a circle on the stage. There were around twenty kids. I could tell, by their laughter and excited chattering with Mr. Lowry and each other, every kid wanted to be here. The shocked, almost snide looks some of them gave me made it clear I wasn’t wanted. Worse, I recognized some faces but didn’t know their names.
“So, what can you do?” Mr. Lowry asked me.
My eyes swept over the construction site filled with wood, dust, tools, some of which looked a little scary and dangerous, and other building items. I’d hammered nails into walls to hang pictures, but that’s where my “construction” knowledge began and ended.
What the hell had I gotten myself into? But then I remembered Mrs. Meridian saying something about painting. I didn’t see any paint out, but it seemed they’d recently started building the set. That thought led me to the car. Greased Lightning.
I opened my mouth, then a nearby girl muttered, “I’m sure she’s really good at getting people to do things for her.”
My back became rigid when muffled laughter from another girl followed her comment.
Bitchy Natalie, the side of me most of my classmates knew, wanted to face her and dare her to say that to me when her friends weren’t around. But I caught Paige’s encouraging smile.
I managed to keep my temper in check as I said to Mr. Lowry, “I can paint whatever you need me to. I can also help build the car.”
“Great,” he replied. “I’ll have Shane get you going on painting some props today.”
Of course it had to be him.
“We’re nowhere near Greased Lightning yet. We haven’t figured out how we’re even going to construct a...” He shook his head. “I’m drawing a blank on the type of car—”
“It’s a 48 Ford Deluxe convertible,” I heard myself say.
I felt everyone’s eyes and froze. Out of shock I’d answered without thinking. I’d also spoken at the same time as another kid on this stage. He stood across from me in our circle.
Our eyes locked, and he gave me his stupid, irritating smile.
These next seven weeks were going to be the longest of my life.
So have you made anyone cry yet?
I laughed quietly at Ella’s text. My phone sat in front of me on the stage floor.
I was near the back of the stage, sitting cross-legged in front of ten medium-sized, narrow cardboard boxes stacked and glued two high and five across. Mr. Lowry told me to make the boxes look like lockers. Easy enough.
Nat's smart enough not to make enemies on her first day.
I smiled at Quinn’s text and tapped out with my left hand, because I held the paintbrush in my right, Thanks, Q. But this one girl’s pissing me off. Don’t know her name.
The girl who’d made the snide comment. I’d caught her nasty looks throughout the morning. I’d just been working on these boxes since Drama Boy showed me where the paint and paint brushes were stored. He’d then walked away and never came back. Totally fine with me.
Yeah, I smelled like paint, but I liked this easy, quiet job. And everyone had a job, the big one being putting together a massive backdrop, the outside of Rydell High. At least, that’s what I’d overheard and heard through Paige, who had checked on me. Even now, the sounds of high-pitched drilling and hammering filled the stage area. As did the nonstop talking and laughter.
What does she look like?
Then came Ella’s reply, Does she need to be reminded of who you are?
I, as casually as possible, turned my head left and found her talking, that looked more like flirting, with Drama Boy. I rolled my eyes, then she caught me watching her.
And if nasty looks really could turn people into dust, I’d be floating in the air.
I yanked my hard gaze from hers and replied, I don’t know what her problem is. She has brown, curly hair. She’s short and heavy. Horrible laugh.
I’d heard her cackling while she talked-flirted with another boy.
Paige dropped beside me. “Those are looking good.”
I’d just finished painting the boxes gray, but had to wait until the paint dried to start making them look like actual lockers.
Quinn’s reply popped up in our thread. I think her name’s Theresa? If it’s who I think, she was new this year. Senior.
Paige would know for sure.
Before I could ask, she said, “How did you know what kind of car Greased Lightning is?” She giggled. “Are you a closet Grease fanatic? Or were you the girl, after the first time you saw the movie, who fell in love with Danny Zuko?”
It sounded like Paige had been that girl. I’d seen the movie twice. Maybe. And because of the cool cars. The only scenes I’d liked were the “Greased Lightning” number and when the two guys were racing.
“Paige, do I really seem like a closet Grease fanatic?”
“Well, you knew the car and you’re suddenly working on the musical…” She shrugged. “If you don’t like this show, why are you working on the set?”
I wanted to say because it beat working with my narcissistic, judgmental mother for seven weeks. But I said another truth. “Required community service.”
“We’re here for that, too, but we want to be here. Why would you pick something you don’t want to be doing? Sounds kinda like torture.”
“That’s a great question, Paige,” came a familiar voice from above us.
I angled my head up. “Is eav
esdropping a part of your nosiness?”
I sensed Paige’s eyes bouncing from me to Drama Boy.
“And I thought Greased Lightning had brought us closer.” He shook his head in phony disappointment. “But seriously. You need to start cleaning up. It’s almost noon.”
Silence followed him as he walked away.
“What’s with you two?” Paige mumbled.
I rose from my cross-legged seat on the stage. “Mutual dislike.”
Shane Easton could choke on all his classic cars knowledge. But he did need to keep his mouth shut about me. Or I’d make sure he never smiled that smile again.
Paige stood and brushed off her backside. “Oh, heads up,” she said quietly as some kids walked by us, “if anyone tells you to lick the paintbrush to see if it’s clean, it’s a joke.”
Obviously naïve little Paige had fallen for it.
“Who told you to lick the paintbrush? Was it Drama—Shane?”
“No!” she answered. “He’d never do something like that. He’s the one who told me about it. I think he was trying to give me a heads up, but it was...too late.”
Okay. Maybe he wasn’t a complete ass.
“It was the girl who made the snotty comment about you earlier. Theresa Flanagan. I heard she’s the one who started it, too. Something she did at her old school.”
I rolled my eyes. “How nice of her. Just stay away from her, Paige.”
Call me when you get home. I wanna hear how it went.
I started to reply to Quinn’s text when I heard a girl loudly say, “Mr. Lowry, Natalie is on her phone even though we haven’t been dismissed.”
I raised my head and looked in the girl’s direction. Theresa. Flanagan.
“She’s actually been on it all morning.”
I felt numerous eyes as I took a deep breath and slipped my phone into my hoodie’s pocket. I released the air and remembered what Ella had texted.
“Natalie, school cell phone rules apply during this time,” Mr. Lowry said.
I dragged my eyes from Satan’s minion to Mr. Lowry, giving me a kind smile.
“That wasn’t made clear to you this morning. Just remember it for next time.”
I tried to return his smile and nodded. Then everyone, who’d been listening to this exchange, went back to chatting while cleaning up. And a laughing Theresa joined her friends.
Maybe she needed to learn she didn’t want to go into battle with bitchy Natalie Carlisle.
Chapter 4
I walked into school Monday morning knowing who I needed to talk to about the Anti-Love Club. I also wanted to ask her about a certain member of the set crew.
I wove my way between kids walking to their first classes. Many kids were in groups, talking and laughing. Many were still at their lockers. Which is right where I found Kassidy and with her boyfriend, J.R. He leaned against the locker next to hers. They were facing each other, talking, then laughed. And a prick of jealousy made me stop. Someone swerved around me. But my eyes never left them. They looked…intimate. Like being a couple was effortless. They’d even broken up and reconnected over a play, and still made togetherness look so easy.
I shook my head.
I liked being single. I also really liked Kassidy and missed having her in the club. She didn’t take anyone’s crap, either.
I walked up, and she smiled so brightly I thought I might need my sunglasses.
“Hey, you,” she said. “What’s up?”
He stayed quiet.
After he’d, in a fit of stubbornness and irritation with Kassidy, joined the club in October, I’d never warmed up to him. Even after they got back together. He’d only stayed in the club long enough to help some geeky freshman kid ask a girl out to Snowflake Formal. Which had worked.
But I still liked to give him shit he could also dish out.
“I really need to talk to you.” I glanced at him. “Alone.”
His hazel eyes rolled upward. “It’s great to see you, Natalie. I’d almost forgotten how friendly you aren’t.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I said with as much sarcasm.
He clasped the end of Kassidy’s long, dark braid and tugged it gently. “I’ll see you later.”
Based on their blinding smiles for each other, I figured it was his way of giving her a kiss in the school’s crowded hallway, and I again felt that prick of jealousy. Until he turned and fell into step beside Maddie Harrington walking with Drama Boy. Her boyfriend.
Maddie waved in our direction, but it seemed more for Kassidy who returned her wave.
Drama Boy flashed that dumb smile of his, then winked.
I glared in response and muttered, “He’s so obnoxious.”
Kassidy’s smile vanished. “Natalie, you and Justin need to get to know each other. I swear you’d like him. He really isn’t like most of the boys in this school.”
“I’m not talking about your Romeo.” I eyed Drama Boy walking confidently down the hallway with Maddie and J.R. “Shane Easton.”
She laughed. “What on earth are you talking about? Shane’s the best.”
Why did everyone in this school think he was Mr. Wonderful?
“How do you even know him?”
A fair question since I’d never, with the exception of her, hung out with the drama kids. Well, until I started community service. And as much as I liked and trusted Kassidy, we weren’t the kind of friends who shared secrets.
I kept my answer simple. “Working on the set of Grease.”
Her mouth inched open.
“It’s how I’m getting my community service hours. And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Now for the real reason I need to talk to you. The club’s in trouble.”
I told her what happened on Friday and added I planned on sitting with Warren and Lexi at lunch today to talk about next steps. Quinn and Ella—mostly Ella—would have to deal with it.
“I wonder who’s complaining about the club all of a sudden.” She zipped up her backpack. “And it’s not fair Mr. Yates can shut it down without hearing both sides.”
“So that means you’ll help us defeat Mr. Yates? And our haters?”
“Absolutely. I know Meg will help, too.” She slammed her locker door shut. “Consider us back in the club until we get this figured out.”
Meg being her best friend and co-founder of the club. But she’d gotten back together with her boyfriend, Owen, a few weeks before Kassidy and J.R.
We headed for our first period classes.
“I have one more thing I need to talk about.” I wanted to know about my enemy before going into battle with her. “Tell me what you know about a senior named Theresa Flanagan.”
I went for my seat behind Warren and beside Quinn in American Government. The mood in here was mainly somber, Mr. Yates’s class not the best way to start the school week or day. All he did was lecture, which made his fifty-minute class feel like fifty hours.
Warren turned in his seat to face me. “What’s wrong? You look more upset than usual.”
Only because what Kassidy told me about Theresa made me feel a bit sorry for her and rethink going into battle.
“Is it about what happened Friday?” he asked.
Quinn put down her phone. “What happened Friday?”
I didn’t want to go into the details with Quinn, even though she’d always been more supportive of me being in the club than Ella.
“Mr. Yates has it in for the club right now. But he won’t win.” I looked at Warren. “The good news is I talked to Kassidy, and she and Meg are going to help us.”
He smiled. “That is good news. Good thinking, Madam Veep.”
I smiled back and it grew while I pulled my phone from my sweater pocket. “The other good news is…I got a car Friday afternoon and have pictures of it.”
Warren laughed.
Quinn shrieked, causing everyone in the classroom to look at her, then stopped to stare at me. “You get in trouble for blowing off community service for almost the whol
e school year and get a car? How did that happen?”
“It’s a very belated sixteenth birthday present.” I brought up on my phone one of several pictures I’d taken. “Gramps couldn’t help the timing. I waited to tell you until today so I could show you a picture and tell you all about how perfect my car will look.”
Warren leaned over his chair’s back for a better angle as Quinn stretched across her desk’s side. I held my phone out enough for them, and only them, to see the pic.
“Will look?” Quinn glanced at the pic, then at me. “What is that?”
My smile slipped. “Q, it’s my dream car. I have pictures of this car in my room—well, not this car. But it’ll look like the pictures I have. We’re having it restored.”
“Your grandpa bought you a car that has to be fixed first?” She leaned back in her seat. “Why didn’t he buy you one that was already fixed?”
I wanted to say because the restoration made the car mine. But Quinn and Ella didn’t get this side of me. Their first cars would be foreign. Probably from Germany, too.
My mother, the beauty queen, didn’t get this side of me, either.
Warren stared at me. “You and that car aren’t going together in my head.”
“She’s always been into old, ugly cars.” Quinn went back to her phone. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s a big secret.”
My jaw tightened as I closed out the picture and dropped my phone in my lap.
“Ella’s going to die when she sees it.” Quinn shook her head. “Nat, you could have any car you wanted. But you pick one that looks like it’s falling apart? You’re so weird sometimes.”
Why had I even bothered to show her the pic?
“Well, I think it’s an inspired choice for a first car.”
I sent Warren a grateful smile. At least he, on some level, tried to understand.
“I’m mad I didn’t know this about you.” He gave me a sharp look. “But I’m still looking forward to riding in it. Someday.”
I couldn’t wait to test the posted speed limit in my dream car. Someday.
The '68 Camaro Between Kenickie and Me (Pacifica Academy Drama Book 2) Page 3