Again, I want to reiterate my congratulations for winning third place in the Change Council competition. You certainly lived up to all our expectations and I can’t wait to hear the recording of your speech. Please note that I cannot use it when considering your application, but that we are all very proud of you.
Kindest Regards,
Sandra Lladros
Over the next few weeks, I lost myself in a whirlwind of preparation for the fall play and catching up with all the classwork I’d missed for the competition. Kris and I were back to our old habits in class like nothing had happened. If we didn’t have to do interviews together for the class paper or the local TV station, we probably wouldn’t ever have to talk to each other.
There were moments—like in US history when Mr. Valla brought up Boston and our eyes met. Or the random inside jokes about Loyalists or peanut butter when we passed in the lunchroom. But, otherwise, it was like the competition didn’t happen. Reality number three realized.
It didn’t matter. I had my scholarship—maybe not as big as first place would have been, but it was definitely going to help, and in a few more months, I’d be away at school and would never have to see Kris again. Things weren’t perfect, but I could make them work, like how I’d slowly started convincing first Mom, then Dad, that applying to theatre programs was not a bad thing.
Opening night of the play, I stared at my reflection in the “vanity” our crew had set up in the hallway by the backstage door—a beat-up long cafeteria table with a full-length mirror propped lengthwise on it and bulb lights glued around the edges of the mirror. My Victorian gown was a dull beige shade that, combined with my minimalist stage makeup, did nothing for my complexion. I twisted my hair into a French twist, tugging at the curls to fake as much Victorian-style volume as I could get with short hair, but, combined with the high neckline of the straight-jacket-like bodice, the whole look was still severe. Nora was supposed to be the domestic ideal of beautiful, a doll, but—I looked over at the sexy, ribbon-y red and black Tarantella outfit hanging on the rack and the vain part of me wished I could wear that the whole time instead of this Victorian straightjacket. Phoebe’s sister had made it for me with the wardrobe master’s permission, and she had winked as she handed it over, saying something about how it would look extra flirty from the audience.
It was crazy, considering how much I wanted to play Nora and how I usually didn’t care how I looked in my costumes as long as it fit my character. But the same part of me also knew that Kris would be in the audience, cheering on his best friend, Matt, and that stupid part wanted to always be heart-stoppingly gorgeous in front of him.
Dev finished gluing on a handlebar moustache and reached over to steal my contour palette. “So, what’s up with you and Kris? You two have been acting weird since Boston.”
I sshed him. “Matt might hear.” Kris’ best friend had already finished his makeup but was pacing and doing breathing exercises only a few feet away from us.
“In character already, Nora, and hiding things from your ‘husband,’ hmm?” Dev twirled his ridiculous moustache and gestured with his eyes towards the curtain. “Here is one enigma, Mrs. Helmer. I peeked into the audience. If nothing’s going on with the two of you, why is our class president in the third row?”
I closed my eyes and set my lips in a straight line, breaking out of character so fast that normal people would get whiplash. “Because his VP is Torvald?”
Dev raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, instead smiling an infuriating smile. He made an annoyingly good Krogstad, with the potential to be as much of thorn in my side as the bank assistant was Nora’s.
It wasn’t hard to know what he was thinking. Phoebe told us ages ago that Kris never sat in the front during performances so he could sneak out and avoid actually watching the show. “Damnit, is Phoebe getting to you, too?”
Shaking my head, I stomped over to the backstage door and looked back to see if he was following. I wasn’t going to start reading into where people sat in an auditorium. Dev should have known better than to screw around with me right before the curtain went up. “I’m gonna have a talk with that girl when we’re done here. Just no more about this from you, okay?” I said in a stage whisper that got me a dirty look from Alexis, our stage manager.
Dev winked, and, without saying anything else, slinked off into the backstage shadows. He grabbed a paper off a chair and waved it like it was the blackmail letter in the play before disappearing behind the backdrop. Theatre people could be so weird.
The post-show high was always my favorite part. Taking time to wipe off the makeup and become myself again was like a magic trick, like ending the ultimate game of dress-up. My ribs were finally starting to loosen up after so many hours compressed in a corset, and I was finally able to take deep breaths of modern, liberated air. My poor hair was going to need massive amounts of conditioner when I got home to keep from turning into a giant knot from letting it loose during the tarantella scene, then manhandling it back into a twist for the rest of the play. I checked myself in our mirror, tucking my bra strap under the strap of my gauzy top. Tomorrow, I’d leave in jeans and a sweatshirt, but it was tradition to look awesome on opening and closing nights.
“You’re both coming to the diner, right?” the girl who played Mrs. Lynde asked as she passed in a black dress, her hair tied up in a tight bun.
Dev answered for both of us. “Yup, we’ll be there.” He finished wiping his eyes with a cotton ball and cringed at the black film still visible, even in his reflection. “I swear, it’s like this stuff embedded itself in my skin.”
“Think of it this way, it’ll be less work to get into costume tomorrow. And, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I happen to know that Phoebe has a soft spot for guyliner.” I grabbed my makeup tackle box and costume bag. “Let’s go, our public is waiting.”
Out in the atrium, my family crowded around me, Mom pulling me into a tight hug, Dad saying I did a great job. It was awesome, but I couldn’t help but notice the little hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched Dev swing Phoebe into a kiss. I really missed that, the feeling of knowing someone who wasn’t a family member or friend but who cared about me was watching in the audience. I blinked back a tear that threatened to escape thanks to my stupid post-show emotional rollercoaster and gave Grace, Leia, and Alec the biggest, most enthusiastic smile I could muster.
“That massive butt-padding they put into your dress looks good,” Alec teased, miming a bustle with his hands. “Maybe you should bring the style back full-time.” He tapped me on the shoulder with his rolled up program when I stuck my tongue out at him.
“I didn’t even recognize you at first.” Leia went to private school, so she hadn’t seen the promo posters around the school. “That was fun, but I like your musicals better.”
“I agree. You have such a pretty singing voice, it’s almost a shame they didn’t put it in here.” Grace pulled me into a hug, and held me back out at arm’s length with a semi-serious expression. “That last scene broke my heart. You’re so talented; you know that, right? Don’t ever let anyone make you give it up unless you want to.”
I dragged her back into a hug, whispering, “Thanks,” before letting go.
Dev and Phoebe joined us, Phoebe already pulling on her shawl and looking adorable in a dress I was positive her sister had made for her. She’d come a long way from trying to copy book characters’ outfits.
“Sorry to break in,” Dev said, “but if we don’t leave for the diner soon, we’ll be at the outcast table.”
Alec snorted. “You’re theatre and band geeks. Doesn’t that already make you outcasts?”
“You should see what the outcast table looks like in geek-land. It’s not a pretty sight,” Phoebe said, grey eyes wide. “C’mon, Em.”
“The rest of you can come, if you want. If they let Phoebe in…” Dev laughed as Phoebe bumped him with her hip.
“That’s okay, I was going to watch a movie at
Leia’s house,” Grace said, just as Alec said, “Sorry, I have a science-meet tomorrow at eight. I need to go study.” Dev and I shared a look, and I could practically read his mind. Still, both of us had enough self-control to keep from making a “Who’s a geek now?” comment to Alec.
“Okay, so we’ll see you tomorrow. Are you riding with us, Em?”
I shook my head. “Mom let me borrow her car.” I caught sight of a familiar head of dark hair near the atrium doors. Shit. I thought Kris would be gone by that point. “You guys go ahead. I’m just going to talk to my parents and I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay, don’t get lost.”
“Cute, Dev. Real cute.” I waved goodbye to my other friends and hurried over to Mom and Dad, who gave me a five-minute lecture about curfew and not driving anyone else—the usual. By the time they were done, I had hoped Kris would be gone, but he was still there, talking with random people. My insides twisted on themselves again, like they were trying desperately to tie a knot.
As I headed out, I stayed close to the atrium wall and tried to pretend I didn’t see Kris as I passed him, but his hand snaked out and caught my arm. “Hey, Em, do you have a minute?”
I nodded and leaned against the wall, trying to look casual by crossing my arms. At least it was him and not me who literally reached out. “So, you came to the show.”
“I always do. Matt’s my friend.” Kris leaned against the wall, close, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the crowded atrium or not. I couldn’t help but peek over his shoulder to make sure my parents were already out of there. There was no way I wanted them to come over and introduce themselves, or worse, for Dad to jump to conclusions and start his “touch my daughter and I’ll kill you” Greek-mafia-style lecture.
“Yeah, but you don’t actually watch. What, nothing interesting to read in the library tonight or something?”
He at least had the grace to drop his eyes and look somewhat sheepish. “Phoebe told you about that, huh?”
“I was shocked to see you in your seat the whole show.” Every nerve in my body screamed at me to notice how his shoulder barely brushed mine, shivers running through me with every tiny shift in contact.
His eyes grew wide with a cross of what looked like surprise and a little bit of satisfaction, like when Chloe got the last of Grandma’s double chocolate s’mores cookies. “You looked for me?”
“Third row center is pretty hard to miss.”
“Great seats and a good cast are impossible to resist, you know.” That satisfaction was starting to turn ever so slightly into smugness. He pushed his hair back and I noticed he hadn’t used even a little bit of gel. A part of me hoped it was because of my comments back in Boston. “I really liked Nora. The actress who played her was incredible.”
My lips completely ignored my attempts to act cool and went straight into a goofy smile. After an embarrassingly long second of this grinning and gazing like a freshman gaping at a hot senior, commonsense kicked me back into motion. “Thanks. And thanks for coming,” I pushed off from the wall, but since he didn’t back up, I was practically chest-to-chest with him. “But right now, I have to go. Cast party at the diner.”
He still didn’t move, and I had to tilt my head up to look him in the eye. “Can I ask a huge favor?”
“What?”
“Meet me at Marrano’s after your cast party? I think we need to talk.”
Why? I almost said, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. My heart stopped beating for a second and I had to wait for it to restart before saying, instead, “It’ll be late…”
“They’re open ‘til one; we can get some coffee or something.”
I found myself nodding, like I was a puppet and Kris somehow knew which strings to pull to make me say yes. Right now, his smile and proximity were pulling all the right ones. “Okay. Does ten-thirty work?”
I didn’t need a midnight rendezvous with Kris, but I could spend half an hour with the cast and crew, and then head over to Marranos. I’d still be coherent at that hour— exhaustion plus a hot guy usually meant mistakes thanks to sleepy judgment I regretted later.
“Ten-thirty’s perfect.” He pulled back so fast I didn’t have the time to adjust to the sudden loss of his body heat. “See you in a few.”
The wall was the only thing that kept me upright as I watched him walk away, a little badass in his step like the hero in a disaster film. Despite my natural cynicism, hope crept into me and I felt like breaking into a musical number like something out of a thirties film. Maybe it was his smile that made me think this wasn’t going to be bad or it could have been his insane confidence, throwing me off in a good way. Whatever it was, I couldn’t wait to see what he had planned for later.
It was like a scene out of movie. The patio was empty except for us because it was too cold for most sane people to be outside. Still, Marrano’s kept their twinkle lights lit, in shades of white and orange leftover from Halloween, wrapped haphazardly around wooden posts and draped over nearby tree branches, giving the whole place a warm glow.
Kris sat at one of the corner picnic tables, picking at its peeling green paint. The second he saw me, he stood, a relieved smile on his face. “I was wondering if you were going to blow me off for your theatre friends.”
I tried to look nonchalant as I made my way across the wooden deck, even though a big part of me wanted to run. Instead, I focused on not getting my heels caught in the floorboards and not looking cold. “It’s only opening night. Nothing special.” I let amusement flow into my last sentence since both of us knew opening night was always a big thing. I slipped onto the bench opposite him and dropped my keys onto the table. “Besides, how can I pass up a frozen custard blizzard?”
“Good point.” He pushed his hair out of his face. His usual confidence seemed a little subdued tonight. “So…”
I waited, and when he didn’t say anything, I played nervously with the long twenties-style necklace I wore. “So, I know we talked about it in the atrium, but what did you really think of the play?” I glanced up from studying my necklace, my heartbeat accelerating from fast-ish to staccato. I couldn’t believe how much I cared about what he thought.
Kris dropped his elbows to the table. “It was cool seeing you up on stage again. You’re so different up there; it’s amazing. Kind of like when you made your speech. Except with the speech, you were still you.”
His words made me feel shy, maybe even a little bit exposed, so I tried to break in with something lighter. “It’s the corset and bustle. Alec thinks I should try to bring them back in style.”
“I’d rather see you again in that Italian dance outfit.”
“Oh.” Heat snaked up my neck and over my cheeks as I thought of that very un-Victorian corset-and-skirt combo, “Well, we’re performing another two nights,” I said as breezily as I could while trying to not squirm under his smirk.
“I’ll have to stay out of the library during that part, then,” he teased, then turned serious. “I saw what you meant about bringing parts of you into the part. Everyone, even Nora— expected her to be this shallow...” he searched for a word, then seemed to give up and go with the obvious, “…doll, but she turned out to be smart and fierce and ambitious. And a little wild and rebellious. Sounds a lot like you.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. Either way, his comment threw me off. “I’m sure Mom and Dad wouldn’t like the whole ‘wild and rebellious’ thing. But maybe you would?” I said, and grinned as, this time, he was the one who squirmed.
“And, with that,” he said, “I’m going to get a sundae. What do you want?”
I resisted the urge to stop with the back-and-forth banter and just say, “to kiss you again,” but instead said, “A kiddie s’mores blizzard sounds good.” At his skeptical look on “kiddie,” I shrugged. “I got hungry at the diner and stole some of Dev’s fries. And ate before the show. I’m not being cute and trying to play the starving actress.”
“I think you
are,” he said as he made his way towards the ordering window.
“Pretending to be a starving actress?”
“No. Cute,” he threw over his shoulder. Oh. My. God, Kris was definitely flirting. And doing an awesome job of it. Who knew that was possible?
I wrapped my fingers around the underside of my bench and leaned back, trying not to giggle and feeling like I was back to being fourteen years old on my first “real” date. This part of Lambertfield didn’t have as many streetlights as Main Street and the building blocked the streetlamp, so the stars stood out brighter here than anywhere else in town. I tried to forget about the chill and the fact I should have worn a jacket, and instead focused on looking “cute.” Kris came to my show, stayed to watch, invited me out, and just flirted with me. And he’d moved mountains to make my speech as successful as possible.
Maybe years of perception weren’t reality.
A mug filled with heavenly-smelling coffee drifted under my nose and I straightened up. Kris slid the mug and a cupful of frozen custard onto the table in front of me, then sat, his tray with a coffee and a giant gummy-bear-covered sundae taking up half the table. “I thought you might want a coffee, too,” he said, leaning forward to nudge the mug even closer to me.
I picked it up and took a sip, basking in that smile and the fumes of pure energy. “You know me all too well.” As much as I wanted to just sit here and keep flirting up a storm, I steeled myself with another sip of coffee chased with a spoonful of s’mores-y custard goodness and said, “You said in the atrium we needed to talk? What about?” The heat and ice running through me didn’t have anything to do with what I was eating or drinking.
Kris’ spoonful of sundae was halfway to his mouth, but he slowly put it back into the bowl. “Yeah.”
As much as I was dying to hear what he had to say, I couldn’t help teasing him for that. “That’s an ‘eloquent’ answer.”
Dramatically Ever After Page 25