“Please tell me that is NOT going to happen," Sara said, suddenly concerned.
My stomach tightened and, for a split second, I considered telling her everything. I had long wanted to, but instead all I said was, “No. Of course not.”
“Is this seat taken?”
“No.” It was a reflex reaction, and when I looked up to see who it was, I was immediately angry at myself as I saw Eric occupy the vacant seat next to mine.
“Oh, seriously?” Sara said, dropping her script on her lap.
“I asked her if this seat is taken and she said no,” Eric said coolly.
Sara lifted her chin, her nose flaring a little. I’d forgotten that despite her childish attitude, she was capable of being condescending when necessary. “But that doesn’t mean that she’d like to sit next to you.”
"I sat behind her during homeroom and three other classes.”
Sara’s jaw tightened. “Your point being?”
“She wouldn’t mind me sitting beside her.” Eric’s gaze shifted to my face and he added, “Or am I wrong about that?”
Sara glared at him but she didn’t say another word. She picked up her script and continued memorizing her lines.
I was practically burning with anger, and I was about to tell him that he was wrong when his expression softened, reminding me of the person who was probably wandering around the woods that very moment, waiting for me.
“I’m sorry about the other day at Connie’s.”
His words made my jaw drop, and it probably would have stayed that way if it weren’t for Mr. Blake yelling out my name.
“Kat Vanburgh! Where is my production designer?”
“That’s you,” Eric mumbled, before turning toward the stage where Mr. Blake was waiting for me.
I bolted out of my seat, grateful for the distraction, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened. Sara followed me with her eyes as I climbed up to the stage next to Mr. Blake. There was no hint of her hearing what Eric had said, and I highly doubted that she’d understand what it was all about even if she did.
“Ah, there you are. Are you ready?” Mr. Blake was smiling ear to ear as I stood next to him. He handed me a clipboard with the list of students’ names and their assigned characters along with some notes regarding props and costumes.
"Yes, sir,” I said, trying to look enthusiastic as I pretended to read through the words, when the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Eric.
It was totally unexpected of him, and it made me wonder if he was just toying with me, or if he was really sorry. Something that I never thought he was capable of.
I went back to my seat beside him without so much as a glance at him. I kept my eyes fixed on my clipboard, rereading the list over and over until I memorized everything that was written on it.
Somehow, having Eric beside me felt different than him being behind my desk in class. I could see him in my peripheral vision, his arms folded across his chest. I started imagining Adam beside me, which I realized was not a good idea.
“Hey, what’s up?”
I looked up from the list and saw Sara staring at me, although with one eye on Eric, who was attentively listening to Mr. Blake’s words, or at least pretending to be.
Mr. Blake started briefing us about our rehearsal schedule. We were required to stay at school from three thirty to five in the afternoon every day, which meant I would be spending less time with Adam.
“Is he serious about the three thirty-to-five schedule?” I asked Sara.
“Yeah, I guess. You know how excited he gets when it comes to the play fest.”
“But do you think we all have to stay? I mean, I’ll be working backstage and I can also take stuff home if necessary.” Or to the woods where I could talk with Adam as I worked on some prop sketches.
Sara flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think so, and besides, you’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately. You need a social life. It’s been like three months and−" she stopped, placing a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Kat,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, Kat. That was stupid of me.”
“No. Listen to me. I’m fine, it’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile as I leaned back in my seat to pretend to listen to Mr. Blake.
I could feel her eyes studying me, and I tried my very best to look normal, or rather, bored.
“Yeah, you are fine,” Sara said a moment later. “You’re actually doing better than I expected.”
Now it was my turn to look at her, but she had already reverted back to her script.
I sighed. Yes, I was doing fine, but how come it felt like something was about to go horribly wrong?
***
“That’s nice,” Adam said, peeking over my shoulder as I did some sketches for the costumes.
“I’m still having a hard time with the ghost costumes.”
“Ghost costumes?”
“The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future,” I said, setting the sketchpad on the ground.
“Don’t you have assistants to do that for you?”
“You mean Tina and Diana?”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “You mean the emo-core twins?”
I poked him in the ribs, which made him chuckle. “Hey, don't be such a bully! They're actually okay, especially if they're not talking about their dark stuff. And they're not twins."
“I never said anything bad about them.”
“I never said that you did.”
“Okay I don’t want to play this game,” he said, brushing away a stray strand of hair from my face.
“How are you doing with Eric’s costume?”
“What?”
“How are you doing with Eric’s−"
“I heard you the first time,” I said, snuggling in to his chest. “Why are we talking about him? I thought you’re angry with him?”
“I can’t really be angry with him forever.”
“I’m sorry but he’s an asshole.”
“Would you please stop talking about him like that?” he said.
“Why? You hated him as well.”
“I never said that I hate him.” His voice softened a little. “I mean, I did. But not in that way.”
“But you used to say these things about him getting into different kinds of trouble, and I remember the time you practically said you wished wasn’t your brother.”
Adam lay back on the soft grass. “I didn’t really mean that,” he said slowly.
Adam was a good person. I knew it the moment we became friends, and he had always been good to other people. The only time I saw him really angry was whenever we talked about his twin brother’s latest escapade. But he’d always end up understanding him, even when their parents seemed to have lost their faith that Eric would change for the better.
I couldn’t blame them though, I for one believed that it would have been better if Adam was born as an only child. Did that make me a bad person?
“We’d have to put him in leg braces,” I said.
“Yes, about that. Doesn’t Tiny Tim walk with a crutch?”
“Yes, but he also needs the brace as well.”
Adam frowned, as if the idea of leg braces troubled him. What if the accident didn’t happen and Eric stayed in New York? Would Adam be the one playing Tiny Tim? Was this how he would have reacted when I told him that he needed to wear leg braces as well as walking around with a crutch?
“Would you promise me one thing?” he asked as I was trying to picture him as Tiny Tim.
“That depends.”
“Would you promise to be nice to my brother?”
“Eric?”
“Last time I checked, I only had one brother.” He touched the tip of my nose with his index finger and grinned.
“Don’t be such a smart−ass.”
He winked. “Well, you get my point.”
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe he’s the one who nee
ds to be nice? And I’m not just talking about me, I mean, anyone he comes in contact with,” I said.
“He’s just misunderstood.”
“So is the rest of the population,” I said gesturing with my hands to emphasize my point.
Adam turned to look at me with pleading eyes. “Just try. Please? Would you do that for me?”
Darn those green eyes! I would’ve done anything. I would’ve died with him, or even died for him. And since I could do neither of those any more, I guessed this was the closest thing I had to a sacrifice.
“Yeah, I’ll try."
Chapter Thirteen
Days went by in a blur. The play rehearsals had finally pushed through and people were starting to learn their lines.
Everything was running smoothly on stage and I wished I could say the same for us in the production design department, but working with Tina and Diana wasn't as easy as I thought.
Sure they were creative, and as much as I liked their vision of grandeur and extravagance, I had to remind them that we were staging a school play, not a Broadway production, and that we had to make do with what was available which, sadly, wasn't much. Needless to say, we spent more time arguing about design ideas than actually executing them. In the end, we were forced to spend our free time making up for it, which meant that I had less time to spend in the woods. I didn't like it one bit.
"You don't have to be here if you got a lot of things to do. We can always meet up sometime," Adam had said one day as I showed up an hour late.
I told him I wasn't really that busy, which was obviously a lie. I couldn't tell him the truth, that I was scared that if I didn't show up even just one day, I might end up not seeing him at all. I knew it sounded stupid, but I wouldn't risk it. I couldn't lose him again.
"Are you alright? You look terrible," Sara said as she plopped down in an empty seat beside me. As usual, she looked gorgeous even with her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. I envied her.
"Gee, thanks. I hadn't noticed," I said.
"You got bags under your eyes!"
"More like sacks actually."
She leaned forward to take a closer look and I immediately turned the other way, just in time to see Eric entering the room. He was earlier than his usual last minute grand entrance.
Our eyes met for a second, and I immediately thought of Adam asking me to try being nice to his twin brother. Something I wasn't having much success with. I mean, how could I be nice to him? Should I say "hi," and wave at him as if we were good friends?
I shifted my gaze back to Sara who was now talking about different eye care products that would help soothe my tired eyes. I smiled and nodded, pretending to be interested, all the while feeling Eric's eyes trained on me as he walked towards his seat.
"I mean, the cucumber does nothing," Sara was saying as she turned her body slightly to block Eric out of our conversation, though I highly doubted that he was even listening.
"It does actually."
Or maybe he was.
"Contrary to popular belief, cucumber does help in soothing the eyes, though it may be not as effective as lab based creams. But still, it's preferable to use natural products over chemicals, right?" Eric said.
"We're not asking for your opinion," Sara said, her eyebrows inching together, making a crease between them.
"Then be glad that I gave it to you free of charge," Eric said, resting his chin on his palm, a smug smile spreading across his face. "And you're welcome by the way."
Sara looked at me, and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable," she said through gritted teeth as she stood up and walked over to her assigned seat.
Eric tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, the smile never leaving his face. "What? I was just trying to help."
I felt the urge to snap at him as blood rushed to my face. But as I looked into his eyes, Adam's words played in my head like a warning.
Would you promise to be nice to my brother?
I swallowed back my irritation and looked away, aware that I wasn't exactly being nice by ignoring him. Why couldn't he just act like a normal person? Why did he have to be such an ass? Adam wasn't like that. They were twins. They shared the same DNA. Why couldn't he be like Adam? But then, the answer to that question was there all along. Because he's not Adam, and he never would be.
***
As much as I loved anything art related, I hated making backdrops. I could sense that Tina felt the same based on her frown as we sat side by side on the floor painting what's supposed to be the town's backdrop for some outdoor scenes.
It was boring, and the only source of entertainment we got was the rehearsal itself.
Nigel Armstrong couldn't act. Mr. Blake's patience was put to the test as Nigel, a.k.a The Ghost of Christmas Past, stuttered his lines with Waylon Nettly, a.k.a Ebenezer Scrooge.
Nigel couldn't deliver most of his dialogue without stuttering, and if he did, he'd end up forgetting his lines.
"You think Mr. Blake will have to replace him?" Sara asked as she settled down on the floor beside me.
"Nah, I doubt it. Mr. Blake wouldn't acknowledge his failure even if it slapped him hard across his face."
"Yeah, right. So what's this thing?" Sara asked, gesturing to the giant cardboard with her chin. "Abstract art?"
Tina glared at her.
"I think I want to trade roles with you," Sara said before I could answer her question.
"Whatever happened to your love of drama?"
Sara puffed up her cheeks and sighed. "I can't handle being Drake's wife."
"Are you considering divorce then?"
"That's an option."
"On what grounds?"
"Irreconcilable differences of course," she said matter−of−factly
We both laughed at this and even Tina couldn't help but crack a smile.
Suddenly I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a flustered Diana standing behind me, a crumpled sheet of paper in hand.
"I can't do this," she said.
"What?" I asked, trying to sound serious, but I couldn't stop smiling at Sara's joke.
Diana blinked at me as if the answer was pretty obvious. “Eric is being difficult about his costume," she said. "I couldn't get him to cooperate."
I finally stopped smiling. "What did he do?"
"He wouldn't let me take his measurements for the leg brace. He said it wasn't necessary."
Tina dropped her brush on the floor, splattering tiny bits of paint on our shoes. "What? But he's Tiny Tim!"
"Why am I not surprised?" Sara interjected, looking utterly bored. "It would be weirder if he started cooperating."
"Should we tell Mr. Blake?" Diana asked, glancing from Sara to Tina and back to me.
I looked around the room for Eric. He wasn't hard to find considering he always stayed in the same spot during rehearsal time. Right beside the door.
My gaze drifted to Mr. Blake as I considered Diana's question, but seeing how his lips were pressed tight in a thin line as Nigel stuttered his lines, I didn't think it was a good idea.
"I'll talk to him," I said, handing my paint brush to Diana as I scrambled onto my feet.
Eric was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. As usual, he wore black from head to toe. His head snapped in my direction as I made my way to him.
"Do we have a problem?" I asked, stopping a few feet away.
His eyes narrowed for a second, then he blinked. "None I can think of, why?"
He had an air of nonchalance that irritated me. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
"Diana says you won't cooperate with the costume fitting."
"Oh, that." He scratched his forehead and frowned. "I really don't think that's a problem."
"We're staging a play here and we need costumes."
"I am well aware of that."
"We need to take measurements for your leg brace."
"I can do it myself."
"What?"
"I can do it myself
," he repeated with a shrug.
I stared at him. "You're kidding, right?" My voice came out louder than I intended, and people started glancing our way.
"No," Eric said. "I can also provide for the crutch if that would help make things easier."
"I am in charge of everything props related, and I want to make sure that everything goes well."
"I know. I understand," he said quietly. "Look, this actually favors you seeing you're busy with a lot of things."
I clenched my teeth together, reminding myself that people were watching. "I don't need your help. I didn't ask for it. Don't make this hard for me."
"I'm not making things hard for you. I just said that I'm doing you a favor. Seriously, Kat, what is wrong with you?"
The room became quiet, all eyes shifting in our direction, waiting for me to respond. It was like walking on the street the first few weeks after the accident when people scrutinized my every move, waiting for me to break down. I knew I was allowed to do just that, but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of proving them right.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my mind was blank. I was angry, but I wasn't sure why. In the end, I asked myself the same question. What is wrong with me?
I spun around on my heels, turning my back at him just in time to see Sara walking up to us, her eyes fixed on Eric.
"Let it go," I said, grabbing her arm to stop her.
Sara opened her mouth to protest but I shook my head and she stopped. Not without glaring at him of course. Then she looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"Yes, I just need some air." I headed to the door, slamming it behind me.
I’d overreacted and I was clearly aware of it. But I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stand being with Eric, seeing him perfectly fine.
I wanted to see him hurt. To see him wrecked about his brother's death. To see him suffer. To see him blame himself.
I reached the parking lot without realizing it and I contemplated about going back to the gym. My pride wouldn't allow me though. I had made a fool out of myself by showing people that I couldn't handle Eric. I couldn't even answer a simple question.
What is wrong with me?
Understudy Page 9