Unscripted

by Nicole Kronzer

  “Feel okay?” he asked in a low voice.

  I nodded, eyes still closed.

  “Should we take a look at anything else?”

  I pointed to my left elbow and opened my eyes a little.

  He unbuttoned the cuff of my flannel and lowered it off my shoulder, gently guiding my arm out. Everywhere he touched me set off fireworks. Gently, he bent my arm back and forth. “Feel okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  My hip was going to be purple the next morning, I was sure, but there was no need for him to . . . well . . .

  I shook my head.

  “Good,” he smiled, still holding my forearm. Then, he released it and picked at the sleeve of my flannel. “Ellie, I’m so sorry about what happened this morning. It stops now. I’ll never let anything happen again like what happened today.”

  I nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

  He met my eyes. “We all talked. After you left. I know I shouldn’t have written that sketch. It just wasn’t funny.”

  “. . . And it was mean.”

  “Well, comedy isn’t always nice,” he argued.

  I gave him a look.

  “But that was . . . it was a bad sketch.” He sighed and tucked a curl behind my ear. “You . . . I know I’m extra hard on you.”

  He cupped my cheek, and I closed my eyes again. “But it’s just because you’re so talented.”

  I scoffed.

  He took his hand away, and I opened my eyes.

  “It’s true,” he insisted.

  Biting my lip, I picked at a thread in the cot. His compliment was nice, but—

  “What about the rest of the team?” I asked.

  “Best behavior.” He raised his right hand like he was swearing in court. “They’re writing apology letters in the cabin. Come back. Please. We need you.”

  This was all turning out much better than I could have hoped for. Still, I had reasons for being skeptical. “Let me think about it,” I said.

  In response, I expected him to nod or maybe talk me into saying I’d come back. I did not expect what happened next.

  He dropped his head in his hands and began to shake.

  My eyes widened. “Are you laughing at me?”

  He looked at me straight in the eye. His own eyes were filled with tears.

  Instinctively, I reached out to wipe one rolling down his cheek.

  He covered my hand with his own and held it there.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, still holding my hand to his face. “This—you—this is all my fault.” His voice shook. “None of this would have happened if Marcus was still here.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to that.

  “Now the Pauls told me that Calvin Paige is coming. We started here the same year, and he’s already on a weekly Harold team at UCB and has had supporting roles in two movies. Plus, he just got a national commercial we were both up for. I know he’s just coming to rub it in my face.” He squeezed my hand hard. “It’s killing me I won’t be performing in the show. Plus, my . . .” he shuddered and lowered my hand. “My dad . . . died this spring.”

  “Oh, Ben,” I murmured, gingerly adjusting my position on the cot so we were sitting hip to hip. “Come here,” I said.

  He laid his head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around him.

  “He had cancer. It went so fast. And when my dad talked about my career, he’d always say, ‘My kid’s going to be famous.’ He’ll never get to see that come true. If it comes true.”

  “Shhh . . .” I whispered, stroking his hair.

  He hugged me back. “I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you. Plus, I’ve been such a jerk. I haven’t been myself. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I want to be a good coach. I just—I can’t—”

  “It’s okay,” I assured him. Good lord. He’d just lost his dad? No wonder he’d been so hot and cold. I felt my anger cool a little.

  “Ellie.” He pulled back, his face wet with tears. “Please don’t hang out with those Boy Scouts.”

  I frowned. What did it matter to him who I—

  “Please don’t leave me,” he continued, squeezing my hands. “I can’t bear losing someone else right now. Especially if that someone is you.”

  My heart flip-flopped.

  “Say you’ll stay. Please?”

  I hesitated. Could he really assure me that his coaching style and the team’s attitude had changed in three hours? I looked into his eyes. Deep pools of sadness pleaded back. Those eyes . . . he seemed sincere. Maybe no one had ever stood up to Ben before like I had. Mom always says kids feel safer with boundaries—maybe Ben was feeling extra vulnerable without his dad and without Marcus here, and the boundaries I’d insisted upon were just what he needed to feel secure enough to do the right thing. And the Gildas—I had to be their Nina Knightley. I wiped his tears with my thumbs. Say yes . . .

  “Okay,” I nodded. “I’ll stay.”

  He cradled my head in both of his large hands and stared at me. His eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up. He leaned in slowly.

  He was going to kiss me again. I panicked and grabbed his wrists to stop him.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “I’m not . . . good at this. You—wrote that sketch and I—”

  He smiled. “I’ll teach you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  What had just happened?

  After some . . . awkward kissing (seriously—I was the worst), Ben stood up and stretched.

  “Well,” he grinned, cracking his back, “why don’t you head to the cabin, ice your foot, and just . . . relax.”

  I inspected my bitten-up fingernails and opened my mouth to ask if the kissing had been as bad for him as I was worried it had been, but he cut me off.

  “Here, Ellie.” He opened a drawer and chucked me an ice pack. “See you at dinner.”

  Then I was alone.

  WillWillWillWillWill. I needed to find Will.

  Swinging my leg off the cot, I tested putting pressure on my foot. It was tender, but the shooting pain was gone. I slid my sandal on, keeping the strap loose, stood up, and shifted my body weight back and forth. It didn’t hurt to stand.

  I smiled and stepped forward. Then I nearly collapsed. The shooting pain had returned. When I experimented further, I found if I kept weight off my toes, I could limp a bit on my heel.

  I hobbled as fast as I could out of the nurse’s office and down the hall in pursuit of Will. Until Ben had carried me in this way, I’d never been back to this part of the Main Lodge. I limped past the Pauls’ office and the kitchen, but when I reached the foot of the stairs heading to the second floor, I paused: laughter. That was probably JV rehearsing, so that’s where I’d find Will. Using the railing, I hauled myself up the steps, pivoting on my heel. When I reached the top, I took a swig of water to reward my effort.

  But now what? There were eight rehearsal rooms. I guessed I could just peek in each room until—but then I heard Will’s distinct laugh: a donkey bray. He doesn’t let himself go very often, and I was thankful in this moment he did.

  I cracked open the door to Rehearsal Room C and peered inside. Four people were frozen in a tableau. Paloma stood to the side in such a way that made me assume she was controlling the scene. Will and the others were shaking with laughter. Their coach, Roger, was crouched against the wall, his head in his hands. The more everyone laughed, the more pleased Paloma’s face became. The players frozen in place began to shake from holding their positions for so long.

  They were happy.

  I didn’t want to break that up.

  Easing the door closed, I pivoted on my heel just in time to see Sirena bound up the stairs.

  “Hi,” I said in a low voice.

  “Hi, Zelda!” she said, smiling as she put her hand on the door-knob to the rehearsal room. Then she took a second look at me and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  I shoo
k my head and rubbed my eyebrow. “Crazy morning. I was hoping to talk to Will, but they’re neck deep in something hilarious. He’d never forgive me for pulling him out of that.”

  She nodded slowly. “Break’s in fifteen. Or we might call it for the day . . . You want to come in until then?”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt.” I pulled my bag higher on my shoulder and tried to fix my features into a no-one’s-made-out-with-me-lately-especially-not-my-coach face.

  Sirena stared at me for a moment with her head cocked. Then she pushed her glasses back on her nose and nodded at rehearsal. “I should get back in there—unless you want to talk or something.”

  I did—desperately—but I really needed Will first. I reached out and squeezed her forearm. “I’ll be okay. Have fun.”

  “Okay . . .” She squeezed my arm back, nodded once, and slipped into the room.

  Fifteen minutes. I slid down the wall and cracked my ice pack in half, propping it on my foot. I sighed with relief as the cool pressure tingled against my toes. Wiggling them experimentally, I decided I’d probably be fine in a day or two. They were achy, but I didn’t think they were broken.

  Not that there’s much you can do for a broken toe. When Will and I were in fifth grade, Mom broke one as she was lugging climbing equipment out of the Adventure Closet in the basement. The doctor had just taped her broken toe to the one next to it. “Its buddy helps the broken one heal,” she’d said.

  I missed Will, my own buddy toe.

  But soon, he slipped out of the door of the rehearsal room. “Hey, Sirena told me you—holy Jesus, Z, what happened to you?”

  Then, for the first time since this whole thing had started, I began to cry in front of someone. It poured out of me in waves crashing onto the shore of Will. He gathered me in his arms and just sat there, holding me while I sobbed. I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my flannel, and pretty soon I was wiping my nose with it, too.

  “Can you walk?” he asked when my tears had started to let up a little. I nodded. He helped me down the stairs and out onto the wraparound porch. We sat on a bench around the corner from the main door.

  “Okay,” he said, folding his arms, “did he do this to you?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Who? Ben? No! He—” And then all I could think about was the weird, awkward kissing I’d just participated in. Something must have shown on my face because he tugged on my shirt sleeve.

  “Tell me.”

  So, I did. I told him about rehearsals. The high ropes course. My makeup rehearsal. The kissing scene.

  At that point, he pursed his lips so tightly they became a straight, hard line of disapproval. But I pushed on. I told him about my cold open that everyone loved. The terrible and embarrassing scene Ben wrote. My storming off. My hike with the Boy Scouts. My fall. Ben’s rescuing me. The nurse’s office.

  “So, you’re back on Varsity,” he said evenly.

  I nodded.

  “And you kissed him.”

  I pulled at my sleeve and nodded again, not looking at him.

  He sighed. “He’s your coach.”

  “I know,” I said, “I feel really stupid. But—”

  “But nothing. It’s a power thing. He shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like that.”

  “He wasn’t taking advantage, exactly,” I protested.

  “No? He humiliates you in front of your team. He doesn’t stand up for you when they take their turn. He yanks you around, being all hot and cold. He writes a scene about how you don’t know how to kiss—”

  I buried my face in my hands.

  “And it is fine, by the way, that you don’t know how. You’ll learn. With the right person, the learning is . . .” He couldn’t push down the smile fighting at the corners of his mouth.

  I hit his arm.

  “It is!” He laughed a little and pushed me back.

  “Ben could be the right person—”

  But Will was already shaking his head. “He isn’t. He isn’t!” he insisted. “I know I’ve only had a boyfriend for like five days or whatever, but we’ve known plenty of other people in relationships. I know it shouldn’t be this hard. Or this weird.”

  “But his dad just died—”

  He shook his head again. “No, Z. There are no excuses for how he’s been treating you. Can’t you see that? The two of you are just wrong together.”

  Fire rose up in my belly. “Not everyone gets a Jonas, okay?” I spat. “Would I like a wonderful guy who was my friend for a long time and then suddenly falls in love with me? You bet! But look around! I’m seventeen years old and no one has ever wanted to hold my hand, much less kiss me. And Ben likes me, okay? I’m sorry it’s not up to your pristine standards, but forgive me if I want to see what happens!”

  “This isn’t just about the kissing, okay?” he hissed. “And maybe keep your voice down?”

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

  “This,” he continued, “is about his coaching, too. He’s not being a good coach. You don’t have to put up with that. You—”

  “Yes, I do!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I sprang to my feet, momentarily forgetting about my toes. I yelped in pain and flopped back down. I settled for folding my arms instead. “I am the only girl in fifteen years to make Varsity. This isn’t just about me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Who else is this about?”

  “Women!” I exclaimed. Two guys in baseball caps walking down the path below the porch looked up. I forced a smile and waved. After a moment of hesitation, they waved back. I lowered my voice. “When I make a mistake, or have a bad scene, it’s not just about me, Zelda, the individual doing that. These guys add it to evidence that girls aren’t funny. It’s all women.”

  Will scoffed.

  My eyes pricked with tears again, and I hit Will’s arm. “It’s true!”

  “You think you’re a stand-in for all women? Come on, Z, you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Do you know what High Ropes Jake said to me during rehearsal yesterday? ‘You’re pretty funny for a girl.’ ”

  “That’s one jerk. Or he was joking.”

  “When I messed up on auditions during 185, Brandon muttered, ‘That’s because girls aren’t funny.’ ”

  “Two jerks.”

  I whacked Will on the arm again. “Will! Don’t make me feel like a crazy person! This is happening! Why haven’t there been any girls on Varsity for fifteen years?”

  “Well, maybe—”

  “If you’re thinking it’s because no one has been good enough,” I threatened, pointing a finger at him, “I seriously doubt that.”

  “Hardly any girls come here,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

  “Maybe because it’s not a safe place to be a girl!” I hissed. Rehearsal was letting out and people started streaming out of the Main Lodge.

  Suddenly, Will shook his head like he was waking up from a nap. “Z, I’m the one who said he’s a bad coach. You were defending him. And now . . .” He shook his head again, slower this time. “What are we even arguing about?”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

  “I don’t think you can have it both ways,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

  I leaned over to wipe that look off his face, but he dodged my hand.

  “Look,” I said, pressing on, “whatever. I have to be on Varsity. For Paloma and Emily and Hanna and Sirena. And whatever this thing with Ben is . . . that’s what I have. I didn’t come to you for a lecture, Will.”

  “Well, I just want—”

  “Will? Are you ready for our hike?” It was Jonas’s voice.

  I stared at Will, daring him to finish his sentence. He stared back.

  “Hey, guys,” Jonas said, but he only looked at Will.

  Will’s eyes held mine for a split-second longer, then broke away to beam up at Jonas. “Hey. Are they calling it for the day?”

  But Jonas had noticed my foot. “Zelda!”

>   “I tripped,” I said, forcing a smile.

  Jonas looked over his shoulder at the crowd. “Hanna! Paloma! Come here! Zelda hurt her foot!”

  I groaned a little as their footsteps thundered across the porch.

  “What happened?” Paloma asked, hands on her hips.

  I shrugged. “I tripped.”

  Hanna raised a skeptical eyebrow. “On?”

  Inwardly sighing, I forced another smile. “A tree root.”

  I picked at the paint chipping on the bench, but I could feel Hanna’s gaze.

  “You, Zelda-girl, are leaving out details.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I just wasn’t looking.”

  “Because you were looking at . . .”

  “Can we not—here?” I begged. “Are you done for the day or what?”

  Hanna smirked. “Done. Where are we going?”

  Will looked like he had something else to say, but Jonas swept him away.

  Hanna plopped down in Will’s chair. “You were saying?

  “I wasn’t,” I said. “Not here.”

  “To Gilda Radner!” Hanna announced.

  Ten very slow, hobble-y minutes later, Paloma and Hanna and I retreated to the inner sanctum that was Gilda Radner.

  Hanna dug into her bag and pulled out a package of Twizzlers. We climbed onto her bunk, side-by-side-by-side and leaned against the wall, legs out in front of us.

  “By the way,” Hanna said, ripping open the bag, “I stole these Twizzlers from some Varsity guy’s backpack.” She bit into one straight from the package.

  “Hanna!” Paloma and I protested.

  She smirked. “Also Jolly Ranchers. Candy stolen from jerks tastes extra delicious.”

  We shook our heads at her, but I accepted a Twizzler and secretly agreed.

  The screen door banged open, revealing Sirena and Emily.

  “We just ran into Jonas and Will,” Emily panted.

  Sirena crossed the cabin in a few short strides and plucked two Twizzlers from Hanna’s bag, passing one off to Emily.