Hearing those words sends painful daggers through my heart. Why does he have to be so sweet and caring and cute? Why does he have to be both everything I’ve ever wanted and someone I can’t have?
I swallow and reach for the crumpled paper in my passenger seat. I hand him the cast list with his name on it. “Ricky can’t perform tomorrow. I need you to fill in as his understudy.”
He flinches for half a second before regaining his cool composure. “Sure thing, boss. Is that all you need?”
Tell me all your secrets, I think. I miss you and I want you to be mine. But all I say is, “Yeah, that’s all.”
The auditorium in Lawson High School grows a hundred times larger when every seat in the house has a person sitting in it. Butterflies rise up in my stomach and flicker around my chest, making me grateful that I haven’t eaten in a while. Greg comes up behind me and peeks over my shoulder as I peer out of a tiny opening in the side of the curtain and watch the audience as they shuffle around, taking their seats and talking amongst themselves.
“This is going to be fun,” he whispers.
Principal Walsh greets people he recognizes, walking from row to row waving and smiling at people as if he’s a sort of celebrity himself. My parents sit in the front row with all of the other cast member’s parents in the seats we reserved for them. Mom fusses with Dad’s shirt collar because it never seems to sit right around his thick neck. Aunt Barlow sits next to Mom, her shoulders straight and her arms resting in her lap. She could pass for a mannequin with the way she stares straight ahead, face stuck in a perpetual expression of disappointment.
Backstage is a different story. My cast members put finishing touches on their hair and makeup and a few of them read over their scripts even though I know everyone has their lines memorized. Even me, ironically enough. I push Greg out of my way so I can call the group together for a pre-play pep talk.
But Greg has other plans. He pins me to the wall, using both of his arms as barriers. “I’m proud of you, Wren. This play is going to kick ass.”
“Thank you.” I squirm and try to duck out of his arms. He stops me and lifts his hand to my face. I’m about to slap him, but then he rolls his eyes and says, “I’m just fixing your scar.” The fake plastic skin had come loose on my upper lip, probably from all the nervous sweat I keep plotting off with the back of my sleeve. “Thanks,” I say, letting him push it back on and vowing to slap some more skin glue on it before the show starts.
My stomach creeps into my throat when I see Derek watching us from across the stage. In a twisted and mean way, I’m glad he’s jealous right now. He’s the reason we can’t be together, not me.
But I so can’t be thinking about boys right now.
I call everyone together in the middle of the stage while I think up an inspiring speech. Principal Walsh’s voice carries through the auditorium as he announces that the show will begin in five minutes. My cast and stagehands sit on the floor around me, just like they did in the first few days of rehearsal.
“Okay guys,” I begin, shoving my hands in my pockets. I’m so freaking nervous that even my nerves are nervous. It feels like I drank an entire pot of coffee and then chased that with a dozen energy drinks. “This is the night we’ve worked hard for.” A few people whoop at that, as if I’ve already said something whoop-worthy. I really love these guys even though they can annoy me sometimes. I continue my speech, saying the words the moment they come to me. “Even though we lost our two most important cast members, and even when everything seemed to go wrong, we still pulled together and we’re going to put on a really great show tonight.”
Maggie raises her hand. “What if we vomit on stage from being so nervous?”
“Just picture everyone naked,” Greg says, getting a laugh out of everyone.
The house lights dim, signaling that it’s time to start. The roar from the audience goes silent and the butterflies in my stomach morph into fire-breathing dragons. Everyone takes their spot offstage, Derek taking his spot on top of the fake bridge that he’s about to use to contemplate suicide. A stagehand pulls open the curtains and the play begins.
Derek’s acting is beautiful. It’s as if he’s been doing it his whole life. So when he comes close to jumping off the bridge, I step into Gretchen’s shoes and beg him not to jump. I tell him all of her lines, but they come from the heart. Derek’s superb acting brings out the talent inside of me that I didn’t know I possessed.
When the first act is over and we dart off stage, Derek’s hand presses against the small of my back. His breath hits my ear. “You’re doing great,” he whispers. Chills prickle down my arms as I turn to tell him the same, but he’s gone. He has another scene to do with Maggie.
The play consumes me as the scenes continue and soon I forget I’m just a high school senior pretending to be Gretchen on stage for an audience. I’m in the play, feeling the emotions that flow through the dialogue, caring about my cast members as they portray their characters.
I’m completely lost in my role until the last scene.
The big kissing scene.
Derek says Jeremy’s lines and I say Gretchen’s lines but I don’t hear any of them. All I can focus on is the very real fact that I will be kissing Derek in just a few moments. Thank god for the lip smooshing technique.
My heart thuds in my chest as Derek wraps his arm around my waist. A tingle shoots through my toes and up into my belly as he pulls me close. He says something aloud—whatever Jeremy’s lines are, I can’t remember and I don’t hear a word of it because all I can focus on is the shine from his bottom lip as he runs his tongue across it in a split second. He pauses, his line finished. Instinct has me saying my next line, a super romantic one about how Gretchen has loved him from the moment they first met as children on a playground. Derek smiles, just like Jeremy’s supposed to do and then he does something that isn’t in the script: he winks at me.
His strong arms pull me to him. His neck tilts to the right and we lock eyes for the entire time it takes his lips to reach mine. I close my eyes and prepare for the smoosh.
Only the smoosh doesn’t happen.
Derek kisses me, really kisses me. His lips part as he draws me in, his fingers squeezing into my back as he pulls me into him, our bodies pressing together. My arms flail to gain my balance and I find myself wrapping them around his neck. His hands slide down my back, grabbing my hips as he lifts me off the ground. Oh god, Derek is kissing me and I’m kissing him back.
I never want it to stop.
The creaking sound of the curtains closing startles me out of my trance. A roar of applause sounds from the other side of the curtain. People shove into me as the cast members rush onto the stage to form a line across the front of it, just as we had rehearsed. My eyes open to see Derek staring back at me, his arms still cradling me as we stand in center stage, surrounded in an assembly of our cast.
The creaking starts again as the curtains open for the last time. Audience members stand and although I can’t really see them over the glare of the lights, I know my parents are out there watching me. Horrified, I drop my arms from Derek’s neck and turn to face the crowd.
Just as everyone had practiced, the cast grabs hands, lifts them in the air and takes a deep bow to our clapping audience. Derek holds my hand as if his life depends on it, not letting go after the bow, not letting go even after the person to my right lets go of my other hand. He’s got a smirk on his face the size of Texas. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
The moment the curtain snaps closed for the final time, I let out the breath I’ve been holding and yank my hand away from Derek’s conniving grip. “Let go of me,” I hiss, as I turn around and get swallowed up in the rush of my cast members as they hustle to get off stage through the side exit to where their family and friends await.
“Wren…” Derek’s voice trails off the further I get away. He could easily run up behind me, grab my arm and pull me into another kiss, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.<
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I try to pretend I didn’t see the pained expression flicker across his face at my harsh words. I try to pretend that my own heart doesn’t hurt a little bit because I have to walk away from him. As much as I want to stay and pretend that kiss was real, I can’t. I am better than the girl who falls for a guy who keeps secrets from her.
I shuffle down the few stairs that lead off stage and into the auditorium. People are everywhere but I can’t focus on anyone or anything but my own shoes. My mom runs straight toward me with her arms stretched wide. She encloses me in a suffocating yet proud parental hug. “Honey you were so great!” she gushes into my ear, making me wince with the pain of my eardrums almost exploding.
I feel my dad’s hand pat my back as Mom finally releases me from her painfully loving hug. The wrinkles on the sides of his eyes crease as he smiles and tugs on the tie around his neck. That’s definitely something Mom forced him to wear, which is so silly because this is a high school play, not a professional performance in NYC. “I’m proud of you, Wren.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Aunt Barlow steps forward, using her play brochure as a makeshift fan, even though it’s definitely not hot in the auditorium. Her face is a blank canvas. “Are you done yet? Your parents promised a fancy dinner tonight and I’m starved.”
Mom shoots her sister a warning look but I shrug it off. It would have been stupid of me to expect my aunt to congratulate me on the play. After all, I did everything exactly the opposite as she would have wanted. I’m surprised she didn’t get up and walk out the moment my “too fat in her opinion” ass walked out on stage as Gretchen.
It would have been nice to hear a kind word from her on my performance, but I certainly didn’t expect it. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to strive for her approval anymore. I don’t need a passing grade or even a standing ovation from her. School is over in a week and she will never again be Ms. Barlow to me. She’s just my crazy aunt now. And I can handle that.
My parents and Aunt Barlow head to their car and tell me to meet them at my favorite Mexican restaurant. After being stopped by a few cast members to say hello to their parents, I rush backstage to grab my purse and backpack, hoping to make it in and out faster than Derek can find me. You know, if he’s still looking for me and all. I roll my eyes at myself when I realize how stupid that is. He isn’t looking for me. He probably went home and called Lexie.
Principal Walsh stops me right before I make it out of the auditorium doors. A wave of panic hits me when I see his outstretched hand near the doorway, but then his smile makes me pause. He doesn’t look like he’s about to complain about anything. In his hand is a manila folder. I’ve seen that folder before.
“You did well,” he says, holding it out to me.
I take the folder and feel my future make one giant step toward where I want it to go. I can’t even contain the massive smile that spreads across my face. “Thank you sir.”
My phone rings on the drive to the restaurant. I glance at the caller ID from the cup holder, already determined not to answer no matter who it is. I’m high on the satisfaction of successfully directing a play and getting my recommendation letter and I don’t need anyone to call and give me bad news. But the caller isn’t my parents or Margot or someone who usually calls. I grab it and answer. “Hello?”
“Hey Wren,” Gwen says. “I heard the play was good.”
“Yeah everything worked out fine, luckily,” I say as I pull into the parking lot. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to thank you for being a good friend. I’m sorry I let you down and all, and I’m just really glad you didn’t get pissed off. And thank you for not telling the whole school or anything.”
“Gwen, I’d never do that. I know I don’t know you that well, but I’m here for you if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I can tell she’s smiling from the way her voice sounds. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m living with my grandparents and they’re helping me get enrolled in online college classes.”
“Wow, that’s great news. What about Blake?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “We didn’t work out. But that’s for the best. He was kind of an asshole.”
We both laugh. I’m not exactly sure what to say next because like I said, I don’t really know her that well. She breaks the silence instead. “Hey, so I know this isn’t really my place and all, but I want to tell you something about Derek.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I really want to hang up the phone now. Instead, I bark out, “What is it?”
“I ran into him the other day when I was at the women’s clinic getting a checkup. He didn’t see me at first. He was with this girl and he like gave her a hug good bye when she got called back to see the doctor.”
Gwen’s voice gets swallowed up by the thudding of my heartbeat in my head. Derek was with a girl at the free women’s clinic? The place teenagers go when they get knocked up is the last place I’d expect to see Derek. Unless… ugh. An overwhelming feeling of hatred for him rises up in me. He didn’t care about me at all. He never did.
“Are you still there?” Gwen asks, bringing me back to the conversation.
“Yeah,” I choke out through my dry throat.
“So anyway, I thought he would ignore me when he walked past me and all, but he didn’t. He stopped and said hello and asked how I was doing. So then I’m like freaking out because he’s talking to me like it’s no big deal that I found him at the clinic with another girl when it was pretty obvious that you and him were dating, ya know?”
“Mhmm,” I manage to answer even though all I want to do is hang up the phone and forget that I ever heard any of this.
“So then I decided that if he’s screwing around on you then you deserve to know because you’re such a nice person and I don’t want you to get fucked over like Blake did to me.”
“Um, yeah, thanks for the call,” I interrupt. “But we’re not dating and we never really did so it doesn’t matter what he does with another girl.”
She laughs. “Oh please. Just listen to the rest of the story, okay?”
“I’m not really sure I want to.” Gwen doesn’t understand that I’m about to walk into a family dinner and that no matter how much my acting ability has improved this semester, there is no amount of talent in my bones to cover up how absolutely shitty I feel while eating dinner with my parents. “Was she prettier than I am?”
Oh GOD, Wren. Why did those words slip out of my mouth? Why am I so freaking stupid?!
Gwen laughs again. “Nooooo. For starters she was like five years younger than us. Just listen, okay?”
I groan in reply. She continues. “Okay so I tried to act casual like I wasn’t even thinking about you or anything and I asked him if that was his girlfriend and he said no. So I asked if she was his sister or something and he said she was like a sister and he was just there to support her.”
The wheels in my head turn as I try to recall anything from my times with Derek that would hint to him having someone who was like a sister to him. He is an only child as far as I know, and his mom never mentioned anything about anyone else. Still, she must not be the Lexie from his phone. Because ‘almost sisters’ don’t have hearts next to their names.
“That’s…interesting,” I tell her as my nerves go from being super heartbroken back to just mildly heartbroken. There’s no sense in crying over someone who isn’t really your boyfriend. This information didn’t really tell me anything about Derek. Just that he’s a good friend when someone needs him.
Too bad he can’t be honest to friends who need honesty.
Since my parents are paying for dinner and the food is fancy like Aunt Barlow said, I decide that I should drown my sorrows in a large plate of nachos with extra queso. All the delicious carbohydrates do an excellent job of filling the hunger in my stomach after a long day’s work but they do little to quell the pain I feel over Derek.
Sometimes, even now when I’ve complete
ly given up on him, I’ll still find myself getting caught up in thoughts of him in this weird alternate universe where things suddenly change and everything is perfect and I get to be his girlfriend. And then, before the thoughts manifest into daydreams, I’ll snap out of it and tell my brain to shut the hell up with the Derek thoughts already. I mean, come on.
So I tell myself to stop thinking of him and then I dive into another bite of food. I politely answer whatever my parents ask me during dinner. Although I forbid my brain from repeating the cycle by bringing up Derek again, it doesn’t really listen.
It’s like my brain has a mind of its own.
I’m doing all right though, I’m getting by. High school is almost over and college awaits. There will be more boys in college and soon Derek will be just a memory. In fact, I’ve almost forgotten about him by bedtime.
And then Mom pokes her head in my door and she asks me if the Senior Prom is still going on tomorrow and if so, will I be going with that nice boy with the long hair?
I tell her yes it is, and no.
There’s only so long you can lay in bed with the pillow squished over your ears before the constant beeping of your cell phone will drive you crazy. Sure, I could have turned off the ringer but that would mean getting out of my comfortable and oh-so-warm bed and walking across the room to where it’s plugged into the charger on my desk.
So not happening at seven in the morning.
At least, not until about an hour after the text message beeps woke me up. I know it’s Margot before I even glance at the phone. She’s the only person I know who would be awake this early on a Saturday morning. I also don’t even need to read her texts to know what they say. Unless some freak accident happened, like her house burned down in the middle of the night or her dad discovered he had a child he never knew about, again, then the only thing her texts will consist of is a repeat of what she’s been asking me all week.
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