Dramatically Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  Phoebe tossed her wavy brown hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “Such a shame most of us aren’t ‘actors’ like you and Em, and aren’t cool enough to dress up in tights and poofy sleeves.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “It was Shakespeare. Literature? And if I remember right, you thought I looked hot.”

  “Yeah.” A goofy smile spread across her face. “But that’s beside the point.”

  Those two were annoyingly cute—like those nineties Bollywood movies Phoebe loved so much. They never even kissed in public, only hugged and held hands and stuff. Wil and I, on the other hand, would practically make our desk chairs spontaneously combust with our makeout hotness. Sometimes, I felt like the Rizzo to Phoebe’s Sandy. Well, without the teen pregnancy, smoking, or dressing Phoebe up in leather thing. I was totally okay with Phoebe’s shyness because PDA is really only fun when you’re the one PDAing, but it was still weird.

  If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have even gotten together last spring. Still, it didn’t mean I had to listen to them as they flirt-fought while I was mid-crisis of the soul. “Now I’m nervous and nauseated. Thanks.”

  “One sec, Leia.” Grace stopped mid-phone conversation with her girlfriend, pulled a Scharffen Berger chocolate bar from her purse, and passed it across the table to me. “Breathe, Em.” I was about to protest about my diet for the fall play when she narrowed her dark eyes at me. “And eat the chocolate. It won’t kill you.” She was always so put together, a cross between Veronica Lake’s blonde glamour and Katherine Hepburn’s steel. Popular, with perfect, straight blonde hair, and she and Alec always faced off for the yearly science medallion for our grade. Nothing fazed her and that drove me crazy sometimes. Like the yin to my dramatic yang.

  “Right. When I’m a varsity cheerleader with a perfect figure—” But her glare unnerved me and I quickly took a bite of the dark-chocolate-y goodness. I loved my curves and totally rocked them, but my jeans were not going to love me after this. As an acne-prone nervous eater, I would have to avoid any excuse to fall into a vat of chocolate and chips for the next twenty-four hours.

  “This isn’t the only scholarship out there, you know. If you don’t get this one—” Alec broke off when Grace cleared her throat and he cowed under her death glare, “—which is impossible because your speech was awesome, you could apply to different ones. Like the Greek one your Dad keeps talking about.” Since we’d been neighbors forever, Alec was practically my brother, down to people sometimes mistaking us for twins despite the fact that we looked nothing alike except for our hair color. The downside was that he knew everything about my family. Including all the Greek community stuff my Dad was always pushing on me.

  “Yeah, I’ll get started on it. Remind me later to write an essay about how inspired I am by all of Yia-Yia’s stories from the old country about her goats.”

  Alec tossed a balled-up napkin at me. “Doesn’t your grandmother live in Athens? I didn’t know her apartment building allowed goats.”

  “See what I mean? I can’t even be stereotypical.” I twirled my fork in the air. “C’mon. You know I’d lose to all those full-blooded Greek kids who went to Greek school and will apply in both languages just for laughs.” Alec opened his mouth and I cut him off, “Ditto the African American Scholarship Mom found. And don’t get me started on the church one. ‘Yeah, I kind-of stopped going to your church and became agnostic, but, hey, wanna give me a scholarship?’ Plus, none of those have the added bonus of judges from my dream program.”

  Dev paused in the middle of giving his order and said, “Use some of the creativity they’re making us channel in the workshop. I’m sure you can come up with something that sounds good.” He handed his menu to the waiter. “Veggie wrap with extra cheese, please.”

  “Right. Because the stuff we come up with in remedial playwriting for actors is the same as writing a scholarship application,” I said, trying not to face-palm. Mr. Landry had suggested we take some intensives in New York City and Dev and I were in the middle of a monthly playwriting one that was supposed to make us, as actors, more well-rounded and tap into our creative wells. I still hadn’t started writing my play.

  “You can’t win if you don’t even apply,” he pointed out.

  “French Dip, please.” I ordered, and then shot back at him, “I can’t lose, either. I prefer that.”

  “I give up. You’re such a drama queen,” Alec finally said, laying down the menu and crossing his arms.

  “You wrote your speech about drama?” The voice came from over my shoulder and I jumped. Kristopher Lambert stepped into my line of sight, a smug look in his light-brown eyes. “Figures. You should have stuck to acting. Thanks for making sure I have the best speech in the school, Katsaros. I guess we know whose name they’re announcing tomorrow.” Of course he’d know about the announcement. Kris must live in the office, kissing principal and vice principal butt all the time.

  I wrinkled my nose at him, but Grace was the one who spoke, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Excuse me, but did anyone ask you to jump into the middle of our private conversation? No. So, go away.” Her eyes then widened and she quickly turned to say into her phone, “No, I wasn’t talking to you. It’s that guy, you know, the one who hates athletes?”

  “I don’t hate athletes,” Kris said, his smile morphing into a grim straight line. “Anyway, good luck, Em. I promise to thank you in my acceptance speech when I win the competition.” He tapped me on the shoulder, and then headed over to the counter. “Later.”

  “Bye, Kris,” Phoebe said with a wave and smile.

  I glared at her. “Traitor.” At least the class president from hell was too far to hear us. I didn’t need him to know he got to me with his mind-game ass-hattery.

  Phoebe actually rolled her eyes at me. “He was joking, Em. Kris isn’t that bad.”

  “You only say that because you had a crush on him.” I had no idea what she saw in him. Even in his out-of-school clothes, from a polo to jeans I swore had a crease ironed into them, he looked like he was applying to the young politician’s club or something, and he slicked his dark-brown-bordering-on-black hair into a style that would have made every male actor from the forties jealous. If it weren’t for his ridiculous wardrobe and attitude, he had the potential to be hot, but hot probably wasn’t “class presidential” or something.

  Next to her, Dev stiffened, then tried to look nonchalant. Phoebe bumped him with her shoulder. “Had. Past tense,” she said, more to him than me. Big grey eyes met mine and her smile grew wider. “He’s probably just as nervous as you. Kris deals with things by trying to sound confident. You deal with stuff by either going all control-freak on us or panicking.”

  I didn’t dignify that with a response.

  Grace reached across the table and lay one perfectly manicured hand on my arm. “You’ll be fine. And by this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over and you can find something new to blow out of proportion.”

  “Real supportive, Grace.” I slumped on the bench and focused on my salad. In twelve-ish hours, I’d know my fate.

  No one else in homeroom was on edge. This was the downside of being alphabetically incompatible with any of my close friends except for Alec, who kept throwing me sympathetic looks from his desk in the back corner of the classroom. None of the other “late J” to “early M”-s understood why I was bouncing in my seat like I’d eaten two bags of chocolate-covered espresso beans, or why I kept looking over at the TV monitor in the corner of the classroom. Everyone else regarded the morning announcements as nothing more than the start of a school day. Today, for me, it meant learning my ultimate fate.

  I fidgeted through the Pledge of Allegiance, then sat and gripped the underside of my hard plastic chair as I willed the sophomore reading the announcements to shut up and let MacKenzie take over the microphone. Finally, the vice principal’s face filled the screen and I held my breath as he started to talk. I barely heard half of his words as he went on and on about t
he speech competition and how it was so prestigious and everything the state and national winners would get. “… and that’s why I’m very proud to announce that New Jersey’s female representative to the US Youth Change Council speech competition this year will be Ephemie Katsaros…”

  Oh. My. God. First reaction: cringing at my full name. Second reaction: The held breath rushed out of my lungs and I dropped my head onto my desk. I was still too wound up to feel anything beyond relief. This had been a million times more unnerving than any casting.

  Alec made a whooping sound that echoed through the classroom, a happy scream that could only be Phoebe’s echoed down the hall from another homeroom, and the people sitting around me reached out to pat my back, give me high fives, and grin at me.

  I almost missed our Vice Principal’s next words. “And, in an incredibly rare but wonderful coincidence, the male representative will also be from Pine Central. Congratulations, Kristopher Lambert.”

  My gaze shot to the back of the room, where Kris looked as shocked as I felt. But the shock soon smoothed over into one of his more annoying self-assured smiles. Without missing a beat, he started taking in the congratulations like the polished politician he wanted to be. It wouldn’t surprise me if he reached up and slicked back his black hair, just in case there was a photo op.

  Cassie, one of Grace’s friends from the cheerleading squad, leaned over to bridge the space between our desks and whispered, “You know what this means, right?” I had to strain to hear her over the chaos that had descended over our homeroom.

  “That I’m up against the most pompous ass in Lambertfield history?”

  She cracked a smile. “No. Well, maybe, but also that you two get to spend an entire week together in Boston. Try not to kill him, okay?”

  “Crap. I didn’t think of that.” The finalists all spent a week in Boston, doing live versions of their speeches for the judges while touring the city and taking part in a youth summit. As the New Jersey reps, that meant Kris and I would be stuck with each other through all the summit sessions.

  Cassie pretended to think for a second, tapping her finger against her chin. “Actually, if he did happen to accidentally fall into the Boston Harbor, I don’t think we’d be too depressed. Just saying.” She let out a little laugh, probably at the expression of horror rushing over my face. “I’m kidding. Don’t look so freaked out. I’m sure you’ll have a great time, even with Mr. Class President over there.”

  “I—” I had no idea what to say. The bell rang and I shuffled through my backpack just to have something to do. Phoebe was probably already waiting out in the hallway and I needed another moment to absorb it all before getting caught up in her whirlwind of perkiness.

  A knock on my desk made me look up and, instead of Alec, there was Kris, his light-brown eyes focused on mine. If eyes could smirk, his were the smirkiest ever at that moment.

  “Go Jersey!” He held up a fist as if he expected me to fist-bump with him or something. “Looks like they had to fill their drama queen quota, but at least they stuck to Lambertfieldians. First and second place are in the bag, right?” Over his shoulder, I could see Alec roll his eyes and point towards the hallway before heading out.

  I ignored Kris’ fist and, instead, stood up, putting space between us. Part of me itched to tell him where he could put that fist, but self-control won. “Right. I’ll see you at the podium.” With that, I swept out of the classroom, like Clark Gable after he said, “I don’t give a damn,” and right into Hurricane Phoebe.

  She grabbed my arms and twirled me around like something out of a movie. “Oh my God, you did it.” The twirl ended in a hug.

  “State. I still need to beat everyone for national,” I said into her sweater. My stomach twisted itself again and the wool was already starting to make my face itch. “Including Mr. Ego.” Phoebe pulled back to arm’s length and regarded me for a silent minute, her lips quirking into a smile. I couldn’t help but grin back. “But, yeah, we did it.” The excitement finally started to bubble through.

  “I told you,” Alec said before giving me one of his “I love you, but don’t want to show too much affection so people don’t think we’re dating or something equally gross” restrained arm pats.

  Grace hurried down the hall and suddenly we were in a giant group hug. My stomach unknotted and I laughed as Grace started an impromptu cheer right there in the Language Arts hallway. Alec kept going on about how his editing obviously helped. We all ignored the warning bell.

  I had the best friends in the world.

  I was going to Boston.

  I bounced on my bed as I waited for Wil to log on to the video chat, trying not to let my nerves get to me. It was already 9:30 in Freiburg, which was so hard to process sometimes. It was always so weird to see the dark street through the window behind him while the sun still shone for me every time we talked.

  My tablet dinged as Wil’s videochat invite came up and I smoothed my hair one more time before tapping “connect.”

  “Hi,” I said as his face filled the screen, hating how I sounded a little breathless. Nerves twisted my stomach into knots I knew would stay in place until minutes after our chat ended.

  Wil’s smile helped a few of the tighter knots loosen. Even through the sometimes-blurry connection, I could see the way the lights in his room shone off his hair like a blonde halo. With his square chin, sapphire blue eyes, and longish hair, he looked like a warrior out of Black Forest fairy tales. The perfect leading man. “Hello, beautiful.”

  I giggled, even though this was our daily ritual. It had been the first English phrase I’d jokingly taught him as an “American tradition.” Even after I let him in on the joke, he still kept it up.

  “I miss you,” I said, hating the needy note that crept into my voice. “You’ve been so busy, it’s like I never talk to you anymore.”

  “I have been very busy working. Oktoberfest season is very good for tour guides. They are giving me all the English and French tours I can do after school.” It was so cute how formal he always sounded. “They know I am saving for December travel.”

  “December travel? Really?” I tried not to get my hopes up, but he had been working hard enough that he probably had made enough money for a flight back here to see me again. Tour guides always made a killing on tips, at least that’s what it said online.

  “Yes, I hope to visit my aunt and friends in Dresden.”

  Or maybe he’d surprise me with tickets to Germany, like he teased before he went back. “That’s one of the places with a Christmas Market, right?” Dreams of wandering between the stalls in Dresden’s market, eating stollen, and stealing kisses from Wil between sips of hot chocolate as tiny snowflakes fell around us warmed me.

  “It is, but Freiburg has one, too, the best one, especially at the Munsterplatz. I will send pictures when it opens in November.”

  “That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see what you’re always talking about.” I took a deep breath and tried to let the excitement from the speech competition announcement wash over me again. A little part of me was annoyed that he hadn’t asked anything about the competition yet—I’d messaged him the second I got home from the diner about my nerves about today’s announcement, “I have news, too. Big news.”

  “News?”

  The distant way he said it started to bother me, but I pushed away any annoyance. I had to always remind myself that English wasn’t his first language and the poor guy was trying so hard. “You know that speech competition I entered? I—”

  “Wilhelm!” Someone said something over his shoulder in German. He held up one finger apologetically and turned his head to respond. I could pick out nein, computer, and Em, but the rest was babble to me. Sharp babble, because a lot of German conversation always sounded so angry for some reason. After another back-and-forth, he turned back to me, a frown marring his features. Wil raked a hand through his hair. “I have to go.”

  I tried not to let any disappointment show on my face. “Ok
ay.” I wasn’t going to try to cram my news into a few seconds.

  He must have noticed something in that one word, since his expression grew softer. “We can talk tomorrow, ja?”

  “Ja. Of course.” I touched the screen, my fingers tracing his cheek. “Good night. Ich liebe dich.” I had to have butchered it, but he still gave me a huge smile. That still didn’t mean he’d say “I love you” back, but it was worth a try.

  “Good night.”

  The chat screen timed out once he logged off and I stared at my tablet background, my heart sinking right through my grey comforter, through my mattress, and into my grey rug. I reached up to touch the dried corsage hanging by its ribbon off of my headboard, cringing as the edge of one of the rose petals flaked off onto my fingers. This bundle I made of his carnation and my roses from the Junior prom was one of the few physical pieces I had from Wil. Everything else lived in my memory, or in my inbox.

  “Life sucks,” I said to my walls, just as my door creeped open.

  A curly brown pigtail and one brown eye peeked into my room. “Are you done talking to your boyfriend?” a little voice asked, emphasizing “boy.” I answered with a groan, and my door popped opened all the way, my little sister Chloe rushing in and landing on my bed with a thud.

  I had to steady my tablet before it went flying off the bed. “You could have waited until I answered, at least. Or knocked.”

  Chloe shrugged and, in her usual self-important six-year-old fashion, ignored what I said. “Dad said you’re going to Boston. Are you going with Phoebe? Can I go, too?” I opened my mouth to answer, but she barreled on. “If I go, can I wear that funny hat Phoebe bought me? And see where they threw the tea into the water? Can we throw tea into the water?”