Unscripted

by Nicole Kronzer

  Xander mimed opening the door. “Welcome!”

  “I apologize for all the security,” I said, “but in this day and age, what can you do?”

  “Right,” Xander agreed, “Because you’re the president’s wife.”

  “Not quite,” I said, trying to quell my irritability. “This—” I gestured to Cade.

  “Oh, you’re the president!” Xander said.

  Ben applauded.

  I really felt like I was taking the reins here. Wasn’t it clear that between us, I was the one in a higher status position? But whatever. I could be the vice president. “Sure,” I said. “And we—”

  “Are you sure you should be out in public with him?” Xander hissed.

  “Uh, we’re in public together all the time,” I said, my stomach dropping as I guessed where this was going.

  “Really? The president is out with his mistress in public?”

  “I’m not his mistress.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Naughty daughter?”

  “What? No.”

  “Sexy intern?”

  “Buddy, I—”

  “Sexy buddy? That sounds fun, having a sexy buddy.”

  “It is,” Ben called, and everyone laughed.

  My face went beet red. Was he talking about me? I stumbled out of character.

  Cade spoke up. “We get that a lot, but she has a very important job to do for the American people.”

  “Really . . .” Xander smirked. “For all of us?” He took two steps toward me, and I flinched as he scooped me up in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder. “I’ll go next.”

  It was happening again. And Ben was doing nothing to stop it. I was numb as Xander marched with me over his shoulder and set me down off stage.

  “Woo! Quick, but satisfying!” He mimed zipping up his pants. Bile rose up in my esophagus.

  My jaw felt wired shut as I forced myself to descend the steps and sit on a chair in the audience. Leaving yesterday and standing up for myself had changed nothing. Ben and my connection in the nurse’s office had changed nothing. This situation was never going to change unless Ben stood up—for women, for people of color, for LGBTQ folks—but he wasn’t going to.

  I could guess why Donovan and Trey hadn’t complained about weird racial comments. If they’d protested, they could be labeled as “difficult” or “angry” and could lose out on future opportunities. I could, too, and my exclusion would be justified around the accusation of being “too sensitive.”

  Like “sensitive” was an insult.

  What was I supposed to do? Staying here was tantamount to condoning this scene—all the scenes. What Ben had shown me was it wasn’t just sexist and mean-spirited suggestions I had to deal with, and it wasn’t just sexist and mean-spirited teammates either—it was Ben. He was sexist. And mean-spirited. Or at the very least, he wasn’t standing in the way of those things . . .

  But he was under a lot of pressure from the Pauls. And his dad had just died . . . did that excuse any of this?

  “Great work!” Ben called when the scene was over. “Xander, you’re in line to host if we do this structure for the show.”

  Xander fist-bumped Brandon. “Thanks, Ben.”

  “Let’s get set up for a Montage,” Ben said.

  I hated to stand up and face them again, but sitting felt like defeat.

  I pushed myself to standing. My toes hurt a little as I climbed the steps to the stage where I stood next to High Ropes Jake.

  “Those guys suck,” he muttered to me.

  I turned to him, shocked. “Yeah. They do.”

  He gave me a small smile and faced the stage again.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  He leaned in.

  “Say something next time, okay? Stand up for me?”

  But he stepped out to start the first scene.

  The series of scenes in Montage was better than the last time; I wasn’t a dead prostitute, but it didn’t take much to improve upon that.

  Montage is my favorite structure, but with these guys, every scene felt like I was target practice. I was exhausted when Ben called lunch. Gathering up my bag, I hobbled out onto the porch, away from the tables. I wasn’t ready to tell my fellow Gildas they had been right about everything.

  I stopped briefly at the orange ribbed water jug to refill my bottle, then I took the path away from the cabins into the aspens. It felt good to walk. At least that was forward progress of some kind. My toes ached a little, which slowed me down some.

  That’s probably how Ben caught up with me.

  “Hey.”

  I stopped, not turning around. My body tensed as I felt his warmth a half second before he wrapped his arms around me.

  “You,” he started kissing my neck, “were wonderful.” He lowered my bag to the ground and turned me around. “You”—he kissed my neck again. I shivered—“kept your emotions in check. Xander was being an asshole, but you didn’t react. You’re becoming a woman who owns her sexuality. You’re becoming a professional.”

  I felt removed from his attentions like I was floating above my body. I watched as he backed me up against a tree.

  “Well done, Ellie,” he growled.

  Now his mouth was on mine. I tried to pay attention to what his lips were doing. What his tongue was doing. I tried to mimic their movement. Kissing was supposed to be fun? I was supposed to want this?

  Then his hand crept under my T-shirt and fluttered against the skin at my waist. Slowly, he took a step in closer to me and pressed his body against mine. He groaned.

  He was back to kissing my neck and then his left hand moved north. His right hand moved up my back. My breathing grew shallow. I had a guess where he was going. Did I want that? Would anyone else ever want that of me? Was it okay to let him touch me just so I could feel what it felt like for someone to touch me there?

  Before I had a chance to make a decision, the fingers of his right hand unclasped my bra and his left hand grabbed my boob.

  The moment he made contact, I knew I didn’t want it. I tried to step back, but I was still pushed up against the tree.

  “Shhh,” he whispered in my ear. “Relax, Ellie.”

  “Don’t. Please, Ben. Just—” I tried to push him away with my hands, but he ground into me.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re so sexy. I can’t help myself.”

  “Ben—” I protested again, pushing at his chest, but he covered his mouth with mine.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  I ceased my protests, stunned, but snapped to life when one hand started moving south.

  A switch flipped in my head. A message flashed in my mind with lightning speed and clarity: Ben was not what love looked like. He was what danger looked like. And that’s when Dad’s voice shouted in my head, Prime attack zones: spectacles and testicles!

  I jerked up my knee as hard as I could and rammed it into his crotch.

  “Jesus!” he shouted. But it had the desired effect. Bent in half, clutching his groin, he backed up, and I skirted around him and grabbed my bag.

  “Whoops! See you back in rehearsal!” I called.

  And then, despite my aching toes, I ran like hell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  whatjusthappenedwhatjusthappenedwhatjusthappenedwhatjusthappenedwhatjusthappenedwhatjusthappenedwhatjusthappened

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Somehow, it was lunch and I was sitting with the Gildas. I hadn’t told them what had happened yet. I couldn’t find the words. Plus, how much of that had I been responsible for? I’d let him kiss me, after all. I hadn’t protested right away when he’d touched me.

  Ben appeared. “Come sit with us,” he said coldly. “Team lunch.”

  I shuddered. I knew I was safe in public, but what was going to happen if he got me alone?

  “She’s eating with the Gildas.” Sirena smiled, but it was forced.

&nb
sp; Ben smirked. “I don’t think so.”

  Hanna and Paloma clattered to their feet, but I did, too, holding up a hand. “I’ll just go,” I said, figuring the calmer I could keep him, the better off I’d be. I avoided their eyes as I found my bag, grabbed my tray, and followed him.

  He pointed at the seat next to him. I sat.

  He reached for the salt and whispered, “Your knee slipped.”

  I stared at my tray, not daring to speak.

  “Right?” he said so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him. “It was an accident.”

  Except it wasn’t. I moved the turkey tetrazzini to the other side of the middle square of my divided tray.

  “Because I know you would never intentionally do that.”

  Yet . . . I picked up one pea at a time and nestled them into the mountain of tetrazzini.

  “Because if you did do that intentionally, and you told anyone, everyone would know you only got on Varsity because I thought you were hot.”

  “Think,” I corrected him, eyes still on my peas. “They would think that’s the reason.”

  “Know.”

  My head jerked up.

  “You think you’re as talented as Brandon? Xander?” he smirked. “You’re hot. And the Pauls told me to cast a girl because Nina Knight-ley’s coming.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”

  That wasn’t true. He was just saying that because he felt I’d rejected him. I’d heard those guys laugh at my sketch. I’d had a great audition. And Ben had remembered my application materials. I was talented. I’d earned my spot—I deserved to be on Varsity . . . Right?

  My eyes returned to the tetrazzini.

  “It was an accident,” he murmured.

  I poured milk onto Tetrazzini Mountain.

  Say yes . . .

  “It was an accident,” I repeated, my voice flat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “JV will be our audience this afternoon,” Ben announced. “Let’s get set up for 185.”

  One-liners. Great.

  I felt like a zombie. Every time my mind flashed back to the memory of panic at his body pushing mine against the tree, I tried to replace it with a happy memory. Being in the car with my family. Performing on stage back home. Hiking with the Boy Scouts. But keeping my mind out of the woods with Ben was taking a lot of working memory.

  High Ropes Jake called out, “Why doesn’t Zelda control 185? She’s got great timing.”

  Even in my haze, I could tell he was trying to help in some small way. I nodded, making eye contact with him.

  “I’ll control it,” Ben said. “Ellie needs the practice.”

  Both JV teams chattered as they filed into the room. I tried to pretend I hadn’t heard Ben. I tried to go back to only a few short hours ago when I was defending him.

  “Okay. Start with teachers,” Ben said.

  I looked into the crowd to find my people. Will and Jonas and the Gildas smiled and clapped. But I felt like I was looking at them through a tunnel.

  “185 teachers walk into a bar,” Brandon started. “The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve teachers here,’ and the teachers say, ‘Bartender, you fail!’ ”

  Not a great joke.

  Now it was Xander. “185 teachers walk into the bar. The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve teachers here,’ and the teachers say, ‘We’ll “chalk” that up to your bad mood!’ ”

  I nodded slowly. Better.

  I listened, but never jumped. I should have, but I couldn’t bring myself to put one foot in front of the other, much less tell a joke.

  After three rounds like this, Ben called, “Ellie. Step up.”

  The audience cheered.

  Blankly, I stared at the crowd.

  “Three in a row, Ellie,” Ben commanded. “185 . . . prostitutes.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “Come on, Ben.” Dion and Roger were leaning against the wall of windows with their arms crossed. Dion rubbed the back of his neck. “Give her something else.”

  Now Ben crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge. Looking at them made me realize how strong he was. How lucky I’d been to have escaped relatively unscathed.

  “People will suggest ‘prostitute,’ ” Ben protested.

  “Doesn’t mean you have to take it,” Roger argued.

  “It’s my rehearsal,” Ben reminded them. When he looked away, Roger and Dion exchanged a glance and shrugged.

  “185 prostitutes,” Ben repeated, staring at me in the eye.

  No one laughed.

  Trembling a little, I stepped downstage. “185 prostitutes walk into a bar. The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve prostitutes here,’ and the prostitutes say . . .” I swallowed. Be in the moment. You can do this. Just logic it out: How would a sex worker feel being denied a drink at a bar? I swallowed again. “And the prostitutes say, ‘Well, that seems discriminatory.’ ”

  JV chuckled. So did High Ropes Jake.

  “Stick to the format, Ellie.” Ben widened his stance.

  I set my jaw. “185 prostitutes walk into a bar. The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve prostitutes here,’ and the prostitutes say, ‘First Planned Parenthood funding, now this?’ ”

  JV laughed louder. Even Brandon and Xander smiled.

  “The format, Ellie. This is a pun structure,” Ben said.

  “Hey, it’s working for her. Who cares?” Hanna called out.

  “I care, because it’s the rules of the structure,” Ben said. “Again.”

  I shifted on my feet. “185 prostitutes walk into a bar. The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve prostitutes here,’ and the prostitutes say, ‘That’s fine. I’m saving for law school anyway.’ ”

  The room erupted, and Ben banged his fist on a table. The laughter evaporated. “Pun. Structure. Do you need instruction on what a pun is, Ellie?”

  “Ben,” it was Roger this time. “Lighten up, man. She did three, she used prostitute, what more do you want?”

  “I want them to know what the real world is like!” he exploded.

  No one said anything for a moment.

  “The real world is the one we help create,” Dion said softly. “Hey. You okay?”

  I suddenly realized that last part was addressed to me. I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was okay.

  After a moment, Roger muttered, “We’re going to head back upstairs.”

  Silently, JV filed out. I didn’t try to meet anyone’s eye.

  When JV had gone, Ben climbed the steps onto the stage. Slowly, he passed behind each of us.

  “Who is coaching this team?” His voice hung heavy in the room.

  “You are,” everyone mumbled but me.

  “So, who is in charge?”

  “You are.”

  “And when I give a note, what do you do with that note?”

  “Follow it.”

  “Correct.” Ben stopped right behind me. “You follow it. Understand, Ellie?”

  I hesitated, my heart thumping in my throat.

  Say yes . . .

  I nodded.

  He leaned in. I could feel his breath on my cheek.

  “Prostitute. Again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  We rehearsed for the rest of the afternoon without a break.

  “Team dinner,” Ben said by way of dismissing us. “No exceptions.” He stared at me.

  I tried to gather my things and go help set up tables, but Ben held me back.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Ben called to the others as they hopped off stage. I tried to catch High Ropes Jake’s eye, but he was gone.

  Ben placed a hand on my back and tried to lead me toward the stairs.

  “Uh . . . where are we going?” I asked in a tight, thin voice, resisting the movement.

  “Upstairs. For just a second.”

  Panic welled in my chest. “Uh . . . I’d rather—rather—”

  “Ellie . . .” He smiled with his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I just want to
have a conversation.”

  I scanned the room for a friendly face, but he leaned in. “You’re making a scene. People will talk. Do you want them to talk?”

  I bit my lip and followed Ben upstairs to an unused rehearsal room. Behind him, the door closed and so did my throat. Then he turned to me. “You must be . . . furious with me.”

  I shook my head and swallowed. Petrified was more like it.

  “I scared you today. First in the woods, then on stage.” He stepped close and took my hand. “I’m sorry, Ellie, I really am. It’s just my feelings for you are so strong—I can’t control myself.” He smiled and tucked yet another curl behind my ear. “You . . . drive me crazy.”

  He was moving in for another kiss, and I did not want that. But I was worried about how he might use his physical strength to get what he wanted if I protested too much. I stepped back and held up my hands.

  “It’s fine,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice. “Let’s just go to dinner. I’m hungry.”

  He pouted. “Come on, Ellie.” He reached for my hand again. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have . . .”

  This I was interested in. “You shouldn’t have what?”

  He shrugged and smiled sadly. “Look: you can’t imagine the kind of pressure I’m under from the Pauls. Money’s really tight, and they’re counting on alumni donations to get out of the red. This show has never been more important. Plus . . .” He looked at me like I was a puppy. “I can’t help how strong my feelings are for you.”

  “Yeah. You said that. Can we go?” I tried to take my hand back. He held on.

  “Give me a smile first.” With his other hand, he stroked my cheek. I twitched. “See? You have strong feelings for me, too.”

  “Yup.” That wasn’t a lie. They were strong feelings of revulsion.

  “Let’s go,” he said, tugging at me like I was the one who was reticent to leave. He pulled me to the door. As he opened it, we were greeted by the Gildas, running up the stairs. I thought I was going to cry from relief.

  “Hey, girls,” Ben said, shaking off my hand like it was diseased. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, we’re kind of embarrassed.” Emily wrung her hands. “You know how when girls live together, their . . . cycles align?”