Jack & Louisa: Act 3

by Andrew Keenan-Bolger

  “Not much,” I answered flatly, unsure as to whether he was actually looking for an answer. “Shoe shopping.”

  “Yeah, same,” he said, scanning the walls of footwear. “Good thing we’re in the shoe department.”

  “Yeah.” Once again, I could think of nothing to say. He’d said something funny, and all I could come up with was “Yeah”? I was an actress! Why couldn’t I pick up my cues?

  Inside my head was a tiny Lou screaming at me to say something hilarious. But I was too distracted by how much taller Tanner had gotten over the summer, and by the way he’d let his hair grow out. As if reading my mind, he raked his fingers through his hair, pushing shaggy strands off his forehead.

  “You do any plays this summer?” he asked.

  “Um, well, not exactly,” I replied, trying to sound casual, “but Jack and I just got back from a theater camp yesterday.”

  Tanner smirked.

  “They have theater camps?”

  “Yeah, they’re really fun.”

  “Is that where the ‘Four Musketeers’ are from?” he asked, gesturing toward my phone.

  I nodded, wondering just how much of my text thread he’d actually seen.

  “Mm-hm.”

  A moment of silence passed, and I realized it was my turn to ask him a question. Acting like a normal human engaged in a normal conversation had never been so challenging.

  “Um, you went to soccer camp, right?”

  A look of surprise crossed Tanner’s face—maybe because he wasn’t expecting me to know what he’d done over the summer.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It was cool. I broke a kid’s nose.”

  My horrified reaction forced him to add hastily, “Not on purpose, it just happened while we were scrimmaging.”

  “Oh.” My ignorance of soccer terms must have been fairly obvious, because Tanner went on to explain, “A scrimmage is like a friendly game.”

  “Yeah, until you break someone’s nose.”

  Finally! The tiny Lou inside my head leaped and cheered. I knew I’d gained points by the way Tanner chuckled approvingly.

  “Well . . . I guess so,” he said, grabbing his Godzilla-size sneakers from the floor and lurching off the bench. “All right, Benning, see you back at school. Hope they’ve got some doll shoes in the back for ya.” He cocked his head toward my tiny feet and let out a snort.

  “Ha-ha,” I replied, then stared after him as he sauntered toward the checkout counter, where his mom stood waiting, credit card in hand. My phone chiming snapped me to attention, and I turned it over to read the latest texts from the Musketeers.

  JACK: LOU WOULD MAKE SURE I WALKED W/ A LIMP IN REAL LIFE IF I SABOTAGED AN AUDITION.

  KAYLEE: LOU, R U JUST GONNA LET US TALK ABOUT U LIKE THIS?

  TEDDY: MAYBE SHE’LL ONLY TEXT BACK IF WE CALL HER BRIGITTA.

  JACK: SHE’S PROBABLY HIKING THE ALPS RIGHT NOW 2 PREPARE.

  TEDDY: WHATVR SHE’S DOING MUST B PRETTY IMPORTANT IF SHE’S GOING 2 IGNORE THE 4 MUSKETEERS!

  KAYLEE: WHAT COULD B MORE IMPORTANT THAN US???

  I glanced up as Tanner and his mom wandered away from the shoe department, still feeling a little buzzy from our encounter. The thought of seeing him back at school made me both nervous and— I couldn’t believe it—a little excited. My fingers shaking slightly, I finally typed back:

  ME: NOTHING’S MORE IMPORTANT THAN U GUYS! SORRY! I’M JUST DOING SOME SHOE SHOPPING!

  Jack

  IF THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL after summer vacation is a shock, then the first day of school the year that you become an eighth-grader is like sticking your finger in an outlet. Walking into school with Lou by my side, I felt like a kid sneaking into a PG-13 movie. Girls who were my height just last May now looked like mini-adults, wearing makeup and towering disinterestedly over the sixth-graders. Boys whose voices cracked reading oral reports in seventh grade now sounded like leading men in police procedurals, making wisecracks as they were forced to remove their snapback hats. Some kids had gotten braces. Others had gotten them off. Even though my parents swore I’d gotten taller over the summer, I sure didn’t feel like it today.

  Thankfully, there was one person who had grown even less than me—Lou, and we were lucky enough to be placed in the same homeroom. We took our seats and listened as our classmates tried to top one another, bragging about their summer adventures. Sebastian Maroney had gone to soccer camp. Brooklyn Brown went horseback riding. Sarah Fineberg, our General Cartwright from Guys and Dolls, had spent most of the summer on a fishing trip with her dad.

  As we waited for our homeroom teacher, Mr. McGuire, to arrive, the figure of a tall woman appeared in the doorway. She wore espadrille wedges, a denim skirt, and big dark sunglasses.

  “Is that a new student?” I leaned over to ask Lou.

  “Oh, no.” Lou smiled. “That’s Jenny.”

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I hadn’t seen her since she’d left for her dance intensive at Cincinnati Ballet two months earlier, and it was clear that her technique was not the only thing that had grown over the summer.

  “Have you not been following her Instagram?” Lou inquired. “Yeah, she grew, like, five inches. She’s a real prima ballerina now.”

  Jenny strutted over to us, lifting her sunglasses and resting them on her head.

  “Hey, you two,” she said, sliding into the desk in front of us. Despite being a graceful dancer, she still looked awkward stuffing her long limbs into the desk clearly intended for a smaller student.

  “How was Cincinnati Ballet?” I asked.

  “It was everything,” she said, shifting her body to face us. “I can’t believe I have to come back to school. I mean, I already know I want to be a principal dancer at the American Ballet Theatre when I grow up. Why do I have to take math? Ballerinas only have to count up to eight.”

  “Yeah, until you have to do your taxes,” I replied.

  “Wait, what?” she asked.

  “Never mind,” I mumbled.

  “Lou told me you had a great time at camp,” Jenny said, folding up her sunglasses. But before I could respond, Mr. McGuire walked into the room. He launched into the usual first-day-of-school business—course syllabus, when after-school sign-ups would be posted, which of us had lucked out and got the early lunch period. While the excitement of meeting new teachers and cracking open fresh textbooks kept me engaged for a little bit, I still felt my mind drifting back to Camp Curtain Up and my friends who were embarking on their first days of school as well.

  As the bell rang, my classmates and I poured into the hallway.

  “Lou, do you want to come with me to the girls’ room?” Jenny said, more as a statement than a question. Lou didn’t even have time to answer. Jenny was already dragging her down the hallway, disappearing into the sea of new backpacks. I had no choice but to kill some time at my locker, unloading my math textbook and pulling my cell phone out of the inside pocket of my jacket.

  “2 New Messages from The Four Musketeers,” flashed a notification on my screen.

  KAYLEE: HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, YOU GUYS!

  Beneath it, Teddy had sent a selfie of himself wearing his school uniform, a maroon blazer and navy blue tie, making a twisted face like he’d just put a bag of Atomic Warheads in his mouth.

  CAREFUL TEDDY, I typed, I MIGHT MAKE THAT MY NEW PROFILE PIC.

  I clicked off my phone and slammed my locker door shut, securing it with the new sky-blue lock I’d convinced my mom to buy at Staples. As I rounded the corner, I heard a familiar voice heckling someone in the distance.

  “Hey, watch where yer goin’,” the voice bellowed. “Don’t you know this is an eighth-grade hallway?”

  “Oh, sorry,” a wimpy voice responded.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure if you know this, but we’re upperclassmen now, which means you’re on our turf.”

  The voice belonged to none other than my former bully turned castmate, Tanner Falzone. And while his words seemed strangely similar to lines from West
Side Story, I decided to hang back.

  “Uh, okay,” the younger boy said, gripping the straps of his backpack and setting off.

  “Wait a minute,” Tanner barked, holding out his hand and pressing it against the kid’s chest. “I’m not done with you. I’ll let you go once you answer my question,” he said, cocking his head. “Whose hallway is this?”

  I couldn’t help feeling bad for this little guy. I’d spent a whole semester terrified of Tanner, and even though I knew his bark was worse than his bite, I felt this underclassman’s pain. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him to knock it off, when at that very second Lou and Jenny rounded the corner. In an instant, the tough look vanished from Tanner’s face, and a twinkle gleamed in his eye.

  “Yo, Benning,” he called out, swaggering toward the pair. He reached out one of his meaty goalie legs and gave the side of her foot a little scuff.

  “Nice choice on the kicks,” he said, gesturing to her shoes. “Guess they had doll shoes after all.” He laughed to himself, looking back and flashing a roguish grin.

  Lou regained her footing and tried to keep walking, staring at the ground as her face turned beet red. The scrawny kid seized the opportunity and scurried off in the other direction, pleased with how quickly his troublesome bully had turned into a distracted flirt. I must have been enjoying the moment a little too much because Lou immediately threw me a nasty look.

  “Well, I’m glad one thing hasn’t changed over the summer,” I said to Lou with a smirk. “Tanner Falzone obviously still has a crush on you.”

  “Ew, no he doesn’t,” Lou yipped.

  “‘Doll shoes,’” Jenny repeated. “What was he talking about?”

  “Nothing!” Lou said, swatting her hands like she was trying to bat away a fruit fly. “I don’t know. He’s Tanner! He’s always talking about something crazy.”

  I narrowed my eyes, sensing something fishy was going on. Maybe Lou didn’t see it, but Tanner’s focus had completely shifted the second she appeared.

  “You know, speaking of crazy things, is it crazy to learn two parts?” Lou squeaked.

  “Wait, what?” I asked.

  “For Sound of Music!” she blurted out. “I worry that depending on who else auditions, I might be too short for Louisa or too tall for Brigitta. So I think I’m going to prepare both sides. That way I have a much better shot at getting cast if they skew tall.”

  I realized what was happening. Lou was a master at diverting attention away from anything that involved Tanner Falzone.

  “Sure,” I said reluctantly, giving in to Lou this round. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  Back at home I slogged into my room, surprised by how exhausted and jarring my return to reality had been. First days of school were always cruel alarms, reminding you that summer vacation was officially over and you had 180 school days to go until the next one. I tossed my backpack into the corner and let my body fall face-first onto the bed. My nose was squished against the comforter, but I didn’t move. It felt nice to not think about anything but the clean laundry smell and the faint sound of my dad unpacking groceries in the kitchen below.

  Bzzz, the phone buzzed in my pocket.

  I fished it out and rolled over onto my back, holding it above my head as I faced the ceiling.

  LOU: HEY MUSKETEERS! HOW WAS EVERYONE’S FIRST DAY?

  Bzzz

  KAYLEE: MINE WAS ALRIGHT. LIKE ALL MY CHOIR FRIENDS ARE IN DIFFERENT CLASSES THIS YEAR. I CAN’T WITH PEOPLE WHO DON’T LOVE SINGING.

  Bzzz

  LOUISA: BOO :( I KNOW HOW U FEEL. I’M JUST COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS UNTIL JACK AND I CAN BE IN A MUSICAL AGAIN.

  Bzzz

  KAYLEE: BTW MY HOMEWORK TONIGHT IS TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF HUCK FINN. CAN I JUST LISTEN TO THE OVERTURE OF BIG RIVER INSTEAD?

  Back and forth it went, Kaylee and Lou dissecting their classes, teachers, and friends’ new hairstyles. Occasionally I’d chime in, but mostly I waited for Teddy to enter the conversation. After a particularly detailed account of Rustin Middle School’s lunch menu, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.

  I opened a new text message window, addressed not to the Four Musketeers, but to one person specifically.

  WHAT ABOUT YOU, TEDDY? I began to write. WE HAVEN’T HEARD ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR FIRST DAY.

  My fingers hesitated as I typed the next sentence. For some reason these three small words felt dangerous as they appeared on the screen.

  I MISS YOU

  My thumb hovered over the “send” button. Should I send it or not? I squinted my eyes and clenched my teeth. It’s just a text, I said to myself. For the past month, all the Four Musketeers had been doing was gush about how much we missed each other. This was hardly any different.

  And yet . . .

  But before I could hit delete, the weight of an invisible hand seemed to reach out and press down on my thumb.

  Whoosh. Message sent.

  Immediately I knew it was a mistake. I should have just said “we.” “We miss you.” My phone started feeling red-hot in my hand like the handle of a pot left on the stove for too long. I hurled it under my pillow; perhaps not being able to see it would help undo the last fifteen seconds.

  Bzzz, the phone whispered, muffled from beneath the pillow.

  Bzzz, it murmured again.

  I looked around the room, not sure at who exactly; I was totally alone. I clenched my fist for a second before diving under the pillow, clasping onto the phone like a magic lamp.

  “New Message from Teddy Waverly” a bubble on the screen announced.

  This was a personal message, not one from the Four Musketeers.

  Swipe, swipe, swipe, my fingers zipped across the screen.

  AW THANKS FOR UR MESSAGE STINKER, his text read. I MISS U2! WE SHOULD FACETIME.

  I could hardly believe it.

  RIGHT NOW? I wrote back quickly.

  Y NOT? he typed back.

  My heart began to race. I dashed around my room, throwing clothes into the hamper and straightening papers on my desk. I ran over to the mirror and smoothed down my hair. Then messed it up. Then smoothed it down again. I bounced onto my bed, reached for my phone, and pressed the green “call” button. After waiting exactly five rings, a rectangle popped up, revealing a shiny black swath of hair and that one-in-a-million crooked smile that I would recognize even across the busiest intersection of Times Square.

  “Jack!” He grinned into the phone camera.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” I replied, sounding more comedy-flyer-guy than intended.

  “How ya been, skunk?” he asked.

  “I’ve been great, how are you?”

  “Pretty good.”

  Teddy was seated in a big chair with fancy knobs carved out of wood at the top. Behind him was a gold-framed painting that looked like either a fox hunt or a cut scene from Sondheim’s A Little Night Music.

  “Are you in your . . . bedroom?” I asked.

  “No”—he laughed—“I’m in my dad’s study.”

  “Oh.” I nodded.

  I still hadn’t gotten used to the contradiction that was Teddy Waverly. Upon first glance he seemed like such a proper, preppy rich kid, but once you got to know him he was a lot less Prince Eric and a lot more Pigpen from Peanuts.

  “I’m supposed to be doing math homework,” he continued, “Pythagorean theorem stuff, but I’m glad for the distraction.”

  As we swapped first-day-of-school stories, I realized we hadn’t spoken since our awkward good-bye the last day of camp. Thankfully, we had fallen into our old routine, laughing and joking like we were back in cabin three, before everything had gotten . . . confusing.

  “We had our first meeting for the Ghostlight competition today,” Teddy said proudly.

  Hearing the words ghost and light, I immediately sat up in my bed.

  “Well, it wasn’t really a meeting,” he continued. “We actually have a class every day where we work on it.”

  “Oh right,” I teased. “Pri
vate school,” I said in an affected accent.

  Teddy stuck out his tongue.

  “Yeah, they announced what show we’re going to be using as our competition piece.”

  “Oh yeah, what is it?” I asked.

  “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.”

  “Such a good one!” I replied. “You’re going to audition for J. Pierpont Finch, right? I mean, you’re perfect for that part.”

  “Aw, thanks,” Teddy said, crossing his eyes. “I guess so. I’m not sure they’re going to take me seriously as the lead. But even if I got Bud Frump or Twimble, I would still be excited.”

  “You have a student director for the show, right?”

  “Yeah, they announced that, too,” Teddy said, his smile growing. “It’s this girl named Wren.”

  “Wren?!” I squawked. “Like the bird?”

  “Oh yeah.” Teddy grinned. “Don’t worry, she also has blue hair, so you know she’s gonna do something kooky and inventive. Her dad is a theater professor at Northwestern and directs at Steppenwolf, this fancy theater company in Chicago.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” I nodded.

  “I bet we do something crazy, like set the show in space or, like, Reno.”

  I was beginning to feel jealous again. Not only because Teddy and Kaylee were going to be hanging out in November but that his production of How to Succeed was beginning to sound a lot more interesting than the Shaker Heights Players’ Sound of Music.

  “Well, it sounds like a winning team,” I said. “I’m sure Kaylee is already practicing her fake ‘congratulations’ speech for when you guys steal the trophy again.”