Unscripted

by Nicole Kronzer

  I shot a look at Sirena, but she was focused on Emily.

  “Well,” Emily continued, “we all need . . . supplies. Like, now. None of us brought any because we didn’t think we’d need them, but apparently altitude can also trigger this kind of thing . . .”

  Ben folded his arms.

  “So, can you please drive down the mountain and get us this stuff?”

  Paloma handed him a twenty-five-item shopping list and a wad of cash.

  “It’s two hours down the mountain,” Ben protested.

  “Sorry.” Emily winced.

  “Doesn’t the nurse’s office have . . . stuff?” Ben asked, scanning the list.

  Sirena shrugged. “Everything went bad because it’s been so long since a girl needed supplies.”

  Now I stared at Sirena. Menstrual products didn’t expire. They’re absorbent—not medicinal.

  But apparently along with Ben not knowing women’s cycles don’t align after being together less than a week, he also didn’t know about nonexistent expiration dates. Still, he didn’t agree to the errand yet.

  “Roger and Dion would go, but they left for a nighttime hike,” Emily continued. “And we’re too embarrassed to ask the Pauls. And we don’t know the other coaches.”

  “Would anyone like to drive with me?” Ben looked at me.

  “. . . Is something you’d say if staff were allowed to transport campers in their personal vehicles,” I blurted.

  Ben bit his lip. We all smiled expectantly.

  “Look, I’ll see if anyone has a trip planned down the mountain after dinner.” He turned to me. “Remember. We’re eating as a team.”

  “See, I’m not sure I can wait,” Emily said, her voice trembling.

  Ben sighed. “What difference is an hour going to make?”

  Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes. “It’s just . . . there’s blood everywhere. It looks like someone’s been murdered in our cabin.” She grabbed Ben’s arm. “Murdered, Ben!”

  He wiggled out of her grip. “I’m going, I’m going.” Locking eyes with me, he said, “I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks, Ben!” we all chorused.

  We waited until we heard him descend the stairs and turn the corner. Then I hugged each Gilda in turn.

  “You are all geniuses,” I whispered. “And I will pay you back every penny.”

  Sirena shook her head and hip-checked Emily. “It was her idea.”

  “Brilliant job, Emily,” I said. “And those tears at the end! What a finale!”

  “Why, thank you!” She curtseyed. “I figured my constant crying had to be good for something.”

  I looked at each of them as they chuckled at Emily. I took a deep breath to tell them about Ben in the woods. But then Paloma cracked her knuckles and said, “Time to go tell the Pauls.”

  “Whoa whoa whoa,” I put my hands up. “Tell the Pauls what? Ben was a jerk to me?”

  “Uh,” Paloma squinted at me like I was dumb. “That, and the other things. The things you told us. The nurse’s office?”

  If Paloma wanted me to talk to the Pauls now, there was no way she wouldn’t march me in there herself if she knew about what Ben had done to me in the woods. But wasn’t that partially my fault? I hadn’t told him no right away. And how could I prove what he had done?

  I decided to keep the woods encounter to myself.

  “How is telling them going to make me look?” I said. “Sure, yes, it’s been hard, but I can handle myself. Prime attack zones: spectacles and testicles.”

  Paloma rubbed my back. “You looked like you had PTSD or something coming out of that room with Ben. You can’t spectacle/testicle your way out of emotional trauma.”

  “I’m not getting emotionally traumatized,” I insisted.

  They frowned at me.

  “I’m not!”

  Paloma sighed. “Look. We saw what happened at rehearsal. That’s abusive. And you’re getting used to it!”

  I shook my head. “It’s never been that bad before.”

  “What makes you think it’s going to be buckets of sunshine from here on out?” Hanna asked. She rapped her knuckles on my skull. “Wake up, Zelda-girl. That guy is an asshole.”

  “I’m not telling the Pauls,” I said. “I mean, best-case scenario—they tell Ben to be nicer to me, and I look like a cry baby who can’t handle playing with the big boys.”

  “Didn’t you hear Dion and Roger today?” Sirena asked. “They thought he was out of line, too.”

  I shrugged. “Did they go talk to the Pauls afterward?”

  Everyone looked at each other. “I don’t think so,” Sirena said.

  “So? It was just a difference in philosophy. It’s not going to stand up in court. You know, Paul court. We’re not going.”

  After a moment, Emily asked in a small voice, “So all those tampons were for nothing?”

  “You should see that list.” Sirena smiled. “We asked for triple allday protection extra-strength tampons with wings.”

  “Tampons don’t have wings,” I said.

  “Ah, but, we figured Ben doesn’t know that.” Hanna slid an arm around me and led me down the steps where we ran into Will.

  “Are you going to tell the Pauls?” he asked. The Gildas passed around us, giving us some privacy.

  “You, too?” I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

  He pulled on one of my curls—a habit from childhood that always delighted him and infuriated me. I batted his hand away.

  “Okay. Still fighting,” he said. “I’ll take it . . . for now.”

  It was close to midnight when we were all in bed with the lights off. I had just closed my eyes when I flashed back to the feeling of Ben’s cold fingers unclasping my bra. He did it with one hand like it was nothing. How many bras did you to have to unclasp before you could do it one-handed? How many girls had Ben told he was falling in love with? How many more would he pursue after I was gone? If someone before me had said something to the Pauls, would I even be in this situation?

  Maybe I’d tell the Pauls. After the show was over. And after Nina Knightley.

  “Ellie . . . Ellie.”

  God, now I was hearing his voice, too.

  “Ellie. I’m back. Open the door. I’ve got all the . . . girl supplies.”

  He was here. My bunk was right by the window, which we’d cracked open just a little for some fresh air. He could see me. I could hear him through the screen. We’d barricaded the door with the extra bunk beds after swearing up and down no one was going to have to pee in the middle of the night and then finding a bucket in the closet to use just in case.

  So I was safe. As long as he thought I was asleep. And as long as he didn’t have a razor blade to cut through the screen. He wouldn’t go that far, would he?

  Would he?

  I heroically slowed my breathing and tried to look as unconscious as possible.

  “Ellie . . . Ellie . . . I know you can hear me . . . Ellie . . . Ellie.”

  Paloma moaned a little.

  Ben dropped his voice to a whisper. “Ellie.”

  I probably looked more dead than unconscious, but I was terrified to move. Just when I was tempted to open my eyes and see if he’d left, I heard his voice one more time.

  “Bitch.”

  My blood boiled as he thumped away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It took a long time to fall asleep, but when I woke the next morning, I was sure about two things: 1) Ben was never getting me alone again. And 2) If I was a bitch, I was going to be the funniest bitch that asshole had ever seen.

  Ben kept trying to catch my eye at breakfast, but I stared at Hanna as she told an elaborate story about when she and Paloma tried to get into this secret restaurant back in Milwaukee called the Safe House.

  “What kind of business model is that?” Hanna demanded. “You have to know a password to get inside? You’re willfully keeping out customers?”

  Paloma kicked me under the table. “Laugh, Zelda,�
�� she muttered, “you’re having a great time.”

  “What?” I breathed.

  “Ben is looking over here. You’re having a great time. You don’t need him.”

  Automatically, I turned my head to look at him, but she grabbed my hand and called out, “Hilarious, Hanna!”

  Right. I forced a smile on my face and tried to join in the laughter.

  “I’m just nervous,” I muttered when the laughter ebbed. “If I know where he is, I feel better.”

  Paloma pursed her lips. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Zelda.”

  I nodded. “I just have to hang in there for one more week,” I said. “It’s not like he’s going to follow me back to Minnesota.”

  She tried to smile. So did I.

  At rehearsal after breakfast, my eyes automatically swept the main room of the Lodge for Ben. Jake and High Ropes Jake were tying their shoelaces together on stage, and Trey and Donovan were throwing grapes into the air, trying to catch them in their mouths. But no Ben.

  I exhaled.

  “Get the girl supplies? I left them on the porch.”

  Whirling around, I pointed at Ben’s chest and demanded, “Please don’t sneak up on me.”

  He twisted his features into a “you’re-crazy” face. “Okay, jumpy.” Then he dropped his voice. “I came to your cabin when I got back. Thought you might like to go for a midnight hike.”

  I made a noncommittal noise and started digging through my bag to give me something to do and someplace to look that wasn’t Ben’s face.

  He took a step and we were facing opposite directions, our shoulders touching. “Want me to come by tonight?” he muttered, pretending to watch the others.

  It felt like cold water had washed over me. “The Pauls are strict about curfew, remember?” I said evenly. “Plus, I’m much funnier when I’ve slept.” I selected a pen out of my bag like it was the prize I’d been searching for this whole time. “Hey, Jake!” I called and walked away, not waiting for Ben’s answer.

  Neither Jake discovered which one of them I was calling for, though, because Ben clapped his hands and said, “Edge of the stage, people!”

  After we seated ourselves in clumps, he folded his arms. “We have one week until the performance. That’s seven days before improv reps and an increasing number of high-profile alumni will be in the audience. Past Varsity performers have been recruited straight to the big leagues from here. And I know I don’t have to tell you where alumni of those places go: Saturday Night Live, Hollywood, and television.”

  “Did they ever recruit you?” I asked. I was baiting him, but it came out before I could stop it.

  “I was invited to audition for Second City mainstage, but I didn’t want to move to Chicago,” he said, meeting my eyes, daring me to ask why.

  “Too bad,” I said.

  He shrugged. “Too cold for my taste.”

  “Yeah,” Brandon said, “Ben likes it hot.”

  Whether the snickers that followed were in support of the innuendo or to make fun of Ben, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, the tension broke.

  “We’re putting the cold open on its feet, and then Ellie will go off and revise.” He nodded to me. I stared back. He pursed his lips and turned to everyone else. “Okay. I’ve cast ‘Sleepwalking Bear.’ ”

  I frowned. Back home, the convention is whoever writes the cold open sketch for the beginning of the show also casts it. But I knew what little good it would do to say anything, so I bit the inside of my cheek instead.

  “Xander, Brandon, you’re the hikers. Jake, Cade, and Donovan, you’re the circus performers. Trey, you’re the pilot, and other Jake, you’re the bear.”

  He passed out scripts and the others got to their feet to start rehearsal.

  Did I miss something? Had he called my name, and I didn’t hear him?

  “Uh, Ben?” I followed him as he climbed the steps up on stage. “Who am I?” I had been hoping to play the pilot, but I wasn’t even one of the circus performers?

  He didn’t even turn around. “The writer.”

  “Right.” I hurried to catch up and snagged his shirt.

  He paused, turned around, and folded his arms. “Yes?”

  “I know I’m the writer. But who am I in the sketch?”

  “No one. Traditionally writers aren’t in the sketches they—”

  “That’s not true,” I interrupted. “Amy Poehler. Tina Fey. Kristen Wiig. People on SNL both write and perform all the time.”

  “Well Marcus didn’t here, so we don’t.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “If you’re trying so hard to prepare us for the professional world, why have special rules here? Aren’t special rules a crutch?” I was pushing it, but the moment he’d sidelined me in my own sketch, I’d stopped caring.

  He met my eyes. “I will run my team the best way I see fit. And you will accept that.”

  We were getting too loud—the others had quieted to listen in.

  “Have a seat, Ellie,” he said. He handed me a script. We stared at each other.

  Part of me wanted to walk out. But then I’d look like a bad sport. So I didn’t get cast in my own opening sketch. At least it was my writing coming out of everyone’s mouths. Surely that would count for something with the reps from the improv companies, right?

  I tried to smile, but it came out like a grimace. “Will do, coach.” I started to cross to my bag for my notebook, but Ben snapped his fingers. Automatically, I looked over my shoulder.

  “Sit by me, Ellie,” he demanded.

  I seethed. “Just getting my notebook first,” I snapped.

  “Hallway. Now.” He dropped his clipboard with a clatter and pointed.

  The easiest thing to do was to follow him. But I couldn’t be alone with him. I’d promised myself. “Whatever you want to say to me there, you can say to me here,” I insisted, crossing my arms. I expected some sort of vocal reaction from the team, but they were still and silent.

  Ben barked out a laugh. “Fine. You sit where I tell you. You revise what I tell you. You play structures the way I tell you. You are a player. I am your coach. You. Will. Listen.”

  He held my gaze until a vein in his forehead started to pulse. Then he pointed at a chair in the front row.

  For a moment, I flashed back to the weight of his body against mine, pushing me into the tree. This was not like fighting with my brother. Ben could really hurt me. I glanced at the team. They all stared at the floor. No help there. Snappy comeback Zelda was not going to score any points here. In fact, she just seemed to set off Ben.

  “May I get a pen?” I asked quietly, not meeting his gaze.

  “Yes,” he hissed. Then he barked, “From the top!”

  I nearly opened my mouth to ask for a read-through of everyone in their parts before we tried to put it on its feet, but I clamped it shut. Ben had made it very clear what my role was. I sat.

  An hour later, I had notes scribbled all over the pages of my script. The fight with Ben dissolved as I became an invisible scribe, and he commandeered the players on stage.

  “Take five, everyone.” He handed me a list of notes. “Ellie, go and revise and be back in an hour.”

  I grabbed my bag and skittered out of the rehearsal room before he had a chance to pull me aside. I ran out the door, not even stopping to fill up my water bottle. I had to get out of there and disappear so he couldn’t find me.

  Before I decided in my head, my feet were running toward the Boy Scout lunch hiking path. I’d write on the rock. Maybe I’d still be there as Jesse and Ricky and Murph passed on their way up or back. But even if they weren’t, being there felt safe. And in order to focus on my revisions, I needed to not be afraid of Ben finding me.

  My sprint had slowed to a jog before I realized how much better my toes felt. Lungs, too. I knew it took months to fully acclimate, but even being at altitude for nearly a week felt like I was walking around in a different body.

  Before long, I arrived at the rock. I was negotiating with
my bag to climb on top when a male voice called out my name. I froze. Then I heard it again.

  “Zelda? Why are you hiding behind the—”

  “Jesse!” The relief threatened to pour out of me as tears, but I willed them back. I hopped off the rock and returned Jesse’s welcomed hug.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, still hugging me. I sighed and let myself be held, holding on to him, too. The tears I had willed away from their ducts were clogging my throat instead.

  Jesse pulled back to look at my face, and that’s when I spotted an ax on the trail by his feet.

  “Uh . . .” I began.

  He followed my gaze and chuckled. “My turn to clean up a felled tree across the path a bit up ahead.” He shrugged. “What. You don’t carry axes around at improv camp?”

  I smirked and stepped back, crossing my arms around my torso. “Maybe I should start.”

  He met my eyes. “What happened the other day? Your foot’s okay? That guy . . . he’s your . . .”

  “Coach—just coach,” I supplied before he had a chance to guess something more embarrassing. I shook my head. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay . . . I thought about coming to check on you yesterday, but . . .” he shrugged. “He seemed . . . angry.”

  I rubbed my eyebrow and shook my head again, not trusting my voice.

  “. . . Okay,” he said. Suddenly, the air felt awkward.

  Be in the moment. I looked around. “Hey—where are Murph and Ricky?”

  “We don’t go everywhere together.” He smiled.

  The awkward air slunk away. It was easy again. “You should,” I said. “You make a great team.”

  “I’m okay being alone sometimes,” he said, looking somewhere in the vicinity of my elbow. “Murph is constantly talking about missing his girlfriend, and Ricky . . .”

  “I like Ricky.” I smiled.

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “I’ve never met anyone who loves rocks the way that guy does.”

  Jesse laughed half-heartedly. “Yeah. Rocks.”

  We were quiet for a moment.

  Make active choices. “You want to go for a walk tonight?” I blurted. “Murph and Ricky, too? If they want?”