Unscripted

by Nicole Kronzer

  But for a week about improv, where I should pretty much be in the true-happiness present all the time, this week hadn’t been happy. There were moments, of course, with Will and Jonas and the Gildas. With the Boy Scouts. But maybe the improv hadn’t been happy because I couldn’t ever let the past or the future fall away. I couldn’t when I had to spend my energy protecting myself, worrying about what might happen. Dissecting what already had.

  Somehow, Ben had stolen my present.

  But what could I do? I couldn’t not think about the past or worry about the future with Ben around.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and stared at the fire.

  Something popped in one of the logs and sparks shot up above the flames.

  If Greek mythology was to be believed, humans had had fire since Prometheus stole it from the gods. Or maybe humans figured out how to harness it when lightning struck a tree.

  When we get home, I decided, Will and I should throw a backyard bonfire party for our friends.

  I coughed out a laugh. When we get home . . .

  I looked around at the people, the trees, the marshmallows. RMTA wasn’t forever. Ben wasn’t forever. I studied the fire. Since the dawn of humanity, there had been countless bonfires before this one, and there would be countless afterward. Even in my lifetime, this night was just—a blip.

  Hands on my hips, I blinked back some swirling feeling coming up from my chest, and I stared at the sky.

  Stars were starting to peer through the twilight. I shook my head. They had been burning for millennium, too.

  This camp, namely this Ben, was not the pinnacle of the universe. Not even close. I had worlds outside this place, outside him.

  I exhaled sharply. I had to get out of his orbit.

  I just wasn’t sure how.

  “You’re crying,” Paloma said, appearing by my side.

  I reached up to touch my cheeks. They were wet.

  I closed my eyes. “Paloma,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “I’m supposed to be smart. How could I let it get this bad?”

  In one second, Paloma had enveloped me in a hug.

  “You are smart—you’re just . . . a frog,” Paloma muttered over my shoulder.

  “What?” I pulled back.

  She gave me a half smile. “You’re like a live frog put in a pot of water. It slowly gets hotter and hotter until it starts to boil—how did it happen? But by then, it’s too late. You’re dead.”

  I took another step back. “What?”

  Paloma reached in and wiped a tear from my cheek. “I don’t mean you’re dead, I—this metaphor’s falling apart a little. I just mean it happens so slowly, you don’t notice at first. You’re not stupid.”

  I let out a shuddery breath.

  “Only . . .” Paloma led me several steps farther away from the edge of the crowd. “How bad have things gotten with Ben?” she asked carefully.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Has he . . . hit you?”

  I shook my head slowly. “No.”

  Paloma cocked her head. “But?”

  “He . . . touched me. Waist up stuff. I—I thought I maybe wanted it at first?” My voice was thin.

  She grew very quiet.

  “But then?” Paloma prompted me.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t want it anymore. I asked him to stop. He told me to relax. I kneed him in the . . . testicle region . . .”

  Paloma bit her lip. “Well done, you.”

  “He told me if I told anyone, they’d all know the only reason I got on Varsity was because he thought I was hot and they needed a girl. Which is ridiculous, now that I say it out loud . . . I know I should just quit, but I really want to do the show. This is the thing I’m good at. This show could really be the start of something for me. I just have to . . . tiptoe through a minefield to get there.”

  Paloma frowned.

  “Will told me to make a list of all the ways Ben is terrible,” I said.

  “And then I think it’s time to tell the Pauls,” Paloma said gently.

  “Paloma—”

  “What Ben has done is immoral . . . and illegal. You’re underage.” Paloma rubbed her forehead. “You shouldn’t have to go through all this to be in that show! You think the guys are worrying about this crap? Carrying around all this baggage? Tiptoeing through a minefield? No. They were at the bonfire. Having fun. When do you get to have fun, Zelda?”

  Tears threatened to overflow the banks again. “What happens if everyone finds out about Ben and me? What if they all say I’m only on Varsity because of him?”

  Paloma scoffed. “Everyone saw your audition, Zelda,” she said, rubbing my arms. “Only idiots would think Ben chose you simply because you’re a girl.” She hugged me again. “It’s time to jump out of the pot, Zelda. Make a break for it. You can’t stay in this thing for womankind anymore. That way is death. Metaphoric death. Spiritual death. Choose life.”

  I closed my eyes and let the tears drip off my chin.

  Paloma stroked my hair. “You look exhausted. My parents say sleep should be the entire bottom level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.”

  I choked on a laugh.

  “So sleep. This problem won’t go away, but you’ll feel better equipped to handle it. Plus, tomorrow is our free morning—we’ll circle up and talk more then. Let me walk you back, okay?”

  I did feel exhausted. There was no way I was going off in search of Jesse anymore.

  “Hey,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You want me to put on Pacific Coast Whale Sounds?”

  I smiled around my tears. “Not for ten million dollars.”

  Paloma laughed and we hugged, and I let myself be led back to the cabin to sleep as hard as I could for tomorrow. Because tomorrow was going to be a big day: for being a frog, for getting to the bottom of this thing with Jesse . . . if there even was a thing. But no matter what happened, tomorrow wasn’t for Ellie.

  It was for Zelda.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The next morning at breakfast in the Lodge, I reached for my juice and found Ben sitting across from me. I looked left and right—where had the Gildas and Will and Jonas gone? After I went to bed, Paloma had filled them all in on what had happened, so they knew I needed their protection.

  Then I smelled it before I saw it—someone from the kitchen depositing a fresh tray of coffee cake onto the buffet line.

  Animals.

  “Hey,” Ben said.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I couldn’t meet his eye. “Fine.”

  “Cramps feeling better?”

  I shrugged.

  “Not a morning person?”

  I closed my eyes. “Nope.”

  “Hey,” he whispered. “I miss you. Weren’t we going to start those kissing lessons?”

  I stood up so fast, I knocked over my chair with a bang.

  A collective “whoa” gave way to silence. Neither Ben nor I moved. But as people realized it was only a chair, they slowly returned to their eating and chattering. However, the noise had also drawn the attention of my coffee cake glutton friends, and they rushed back to our table.

  “Ready to go on that hike?” Paloma chirped, scooping up and righting my chair. Will looked ready to pound Ben. Jonas stepped in front of Will, a human barrier between my brother and his target.

  “Yup. Let’s go,” I said and swept up my bag.

  “I’ll be around for . . . extra rehearsal if you change your mind,” Ben said. His voice sounded sincere, but I knew what he really meant. I spun away from Ben and strode out of the noise of breakfast into the hall by the stairs. The others followed, and Jonas closed the door behind us.

  “I’m going to find the Pauls,” I announced. Even with just those words, I felt a little freer.

  Will put his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said.

  I shook him off. “Nope. Alone. I don’t want a huge . . .” I waved my hands around searching for the right word. “Ordeal. I’m just going to
tell my story and ask for him to be removed. Maybe one of the Pauls can take over.”

  “Hold on!” Sirena caught my elbow. “Strength in numbers. Right?”

  I met Sirena’s unwavering brown eyes. Part of me wanted her steadiness with me as I faced the Pauls, but . . . “I’m the one who’s been in that room the whole time,” I said, squeezing her arm back. “I appreciate your support, but I’ve got to do this on my own.”

  Sirena and Paloma exchanged skeptical glances. I pretended not to see them.

  “Are you sure?” Emily asked, blinking quickly.

  “The time for talk is over,” Hanna said, smacking her fist into her open palm. “I say we take the industrial tubs of mayonnaise from the kitchen, sneak into the Varsity cabin, replace their shampoo—”

  I cracked a smile and touched Hanna’s shoulder. “I’m going,” I said. “I’ll find you after.” I gave them a bracing nod, waited until they filed back into the dining area of the Lodge, and marched down the hall to the Pauls’ office door.

  I knocked. A deep voice called out, “Come in!”

  Paul Paulsen was perched at an old metal desk that mirrored another—presumably Paul DeLuca’s. P2’s desk enjoyed a neat army of binders, a plastic Chicago Cubs tumbler doubling as a pencil cup, and an old laptop. It contrasted starkly with Paul DeLuca’s desk, which was covered in stacks of files, well-thumbed books, and an array of used coffee mugs.

  Paul Paulsen ran a hand over his balding head and gave me a knowing smile. “Hi. Ellie, right? What can I do for you?”

  I looked around for Paul DeLuca, which was silly, considering how small the office was. Did I think he was hiding in a filing cabinet or something?

  I had imagined this meeting with both of them there. Should I come back?

  “Want a seat? Some water?” Paul Paulsen asked.

  Suddenly, I was too nervous to say anything. What was I doing?

  “Uh . . .” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I sat in the proffered folding chair, but shook my head at the water.

  “You know what we say here,” he said, pouring water from a pitcher into a glass, “Pee clear!”

  I forced a smile. “I remember.” I took the water to appease him.

  “Tell me, Ellie,” Paul Paulsen said, sitting back in his chair, elbows on his knees. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well.” I coughed, then took a sip of the water. Paul smiled with his eyebrows as if to say, “See? Told you!”

  I cleared my throat and straightened my spine. I’m here, I decided. I might as well just get it over with. “I’m here . . . I’m here to talk to you about . . . Ben.”

  Paul smiled kindly. “Ben said you might come by to talk about that.”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you have a little crush on Ben?”

  I flew back in my chair, which squeaked. “What? No! I—well, I did, I think, but—”

  “It’s perfectly natural to develop crushes at your age.” Now his smile seemed patronizing. “But we discourage that sort of thing between coaches and team members.”

  “I know,” I spat, staring at my knees. “I—”

  “And Ben told me he felt badly if he encouraged your little crush.”

  My eyes flew up. “My little—”

  “But it must be so hard with all those hormones flying!” He gestured at my . . . my what? My body?

  “I—”

  “It’s just not a good idea to . . . socialize . . . in that way.”

  Was this guy for real? I tried to breathe and flip through the talking points in my head. I glanced at the wall over P2’s shoulder. A poster of much younger Pauls with their arms around a vibrant Jane Lloyd from what looked like the 1990s promised, “A Summer of Theatre in the Rocky Mountains!” Would things be different if Jane were here?

  I shook my head.

  “Look. Mr. Paulsen. It’s not just Ben. It’s also the team. It’s a very misogynistic place to be and—”

  “Great vocabulary! Look. Honey.”

  I frowned. “Zelda.”

  “Improv tends to attract more guys than girls. And while we’re thrilled you’re here, you have to learn to—”

  “Play with the big boys.” Fire was burning in my eyes.

  “Exactly.”

  I gripped my chair and tried one last tack. “Sir, Ben has been emotionally abusive. And he’s . . . touched me when I asked him to stop.”

  Paul waved a hand at me. “Ben also said you’ve been very sensitive and probably misinterpreted his coaching. And as far as touching you goes, that’s just how theater people are! But . . .” His face grew serious. “You can always give him a little slap if he goes too far.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “Boys will be boys. We don’t always know when to stop.” He chuckled. “We rely on you girls to keep us in line! And look, since you came and confessed, you won’t get in trouble for fraternizing with your coach.” He gave me a wide smile. “So, you have a free morning! Are you going to go hiking?”

  I nodded a little, flabbergasted at his response. I wouldn’t get in trouble?

  “Okay. Toddle-oo!”

  I had been dismissed. That was it? I’d been holding in all of this hurt and these secrets . . . for this? Disbelieving, I slowly shouldered my bag and stood. I had one more question. “Mr. Paulsen,” I said.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  I huffed. “Zelda. How many women did you contact to be our counselor in Gilda Radner?”

  “Oh—isn’t it working out?”

  I shook my head. “We’re fine. But—do you think maybe the reason you couldn’t get anyone to come up here is because word gets around?”

  He frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  I glared at him. “Clearly.”

  Before he could respond, I was gone.

  Will was waiting in the hall.

  “How’d it go?” he whispered.

  “Come on,” I hissed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We scurried down the hall, out onto the front porch, and got as far as the steps when we ran into Ben.

  “I thought you were going hiking.” Ben’s voice was an accusation, but he plastered over his tone with a smile for Will.

  “It’s a free morning,” I said, a pool of lead forming in my stomach.

  “Talk to the Pauls?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “That’s good,” he said, “because I hope by now, you know you can talk to me about anything.”

  I said nothing and ground my teeth.

  Ben leaned over. “If you want those lessons later,” he said into my ear, “I’ll be along our path.”

  “We don’t have a path,” I said at full volume.

  “I think you know exactly where I mean.” He smiled, stepping back. “And I know you need those lessons.”

  Fury bubbled up in my chest. I wanted to pound him.

  “Goodbye, Ben,” Will said firmly. I stood my ground until Ben left.

  “What is he talking about?” Will whispered as we hurried toward the cabins.

  “Kissing lessons.” I couldn’t help it. Tears were everywhere these days.

  Will wrapped his arm around my shoulder. This time, I leaned into it. “He is a monster,” he hissed. “Don’t listen to him. What did the Pauls say?”

  I wiped some tears away with the back of my hand. “It was only Paul Paulsen. And Ben beat me to him. Warned him I’d be coming. P2 told me to toughen up. That boys will be boys.”

  Will stopped walking. “You know, I’m offended by that. Guys everywhere should be offended. ‘Boys will be boys’? What—we’re so out of control we can’t be kind? Thoughtful? Human? ‘Boys will be boys’ aligns us with wild animals. I can think about what I say before I say it. I can anticipate how someone else might feel before I do something. I can keep it in my pants.”

  I smiled a little and squeezed him, pulling him forward again. “I’m going to itemize a list of every crappy thing I’v
e had to put up with. After this week is done, I’m going to send it to the Pauls and threaten to post it on social media if they hire Ben again next summer. You want decent human beings coming to your camp? You want your alumni to fund this place? Good luck after that.”

  Will stopped again and turned to me, frowning. “What if no one believes you? You could get your own reputation—as being someone who’s . . .”

  “Overly sensitive?”

  He wrinkled his nose and nodded. “For starters. Do you want that?”

  My conviction wavered for a second. But I shook my head. “If people think that, I don’t want to work with them. It might make it harder, but these guys don’t get to keep doing what they’re doing to other women. You know, at first I said I was doing this to show people women belonged at the top. But now I’m doing this so when other women get to the top, they don’t have to put up with this trash.”

  Will nodded. “Let’s go make the list.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  One hour and forty-five minutes later, my hands shook with rage as I folded the four-page, single-space, handwritten list of offenses committed by Ben and the team and tucked it into my backpack.

  “How do you feel?” Will asked. He had found a Tootsie Pop in the dresser drawer meant for the counselor and was sucking away on it.

  I shook my head at him, having used up all my words making that list. As I laced up my hiking boots, he bit through the last part of the candy into the Tootsie Roll center with a crack.

  I shuddered.

  “That bad?” His face twisted in concern.

  I snorted, adding my water bottle and trail mix to the backpack. “Yes,” I said, “but also that Tootsie Pop. It could be older than we are.”

  “I doubt it.” He chewed thoughtfully. “But you’re joking around. That’s a good sign, right?”

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing my hands to steady themselves. Finally, I admitted, “I don’t know.”

  The floor squeaked, and I felt his arms go around me.

  “Those guys suck,” he growled. “You’re doing the right thing. And it’s done for now. Don’t think about it. Just go have fun with Jesse.”

  “Thank you,” I muttered, laying my head on his shoulder. “You’re a good one.”