by Syms, Carly
I screw the cap back onto my water bottle. "I wasn't."
Amanda giggles. "Yeah, but you still did it anyway, so you're good in my book."
"I'm still not sure how I even made the play to begin with," I admit.
She looks over at me with raised eyebrows and starts to speak. "Really? I thought you knew the story about how -- "
"Hey ladies!"
John suddenly appears in between us, slinging his arms over our shoulders and falling into stride with us.
"Great game," he says, and I glance at him but he's only looking at Amanda, who's blushing and fidgeting with her hands like she's not sure what to do with them, and I realize she's not going to respond.
"Yeah," I step in. "That was fun. We should do it again."
He reluctantly looks over at me and nods. "Even when the play's over."
"I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry after that. Anyone down to grab some pizza?"
"I will," Amanda says.
"Me, too," John adds. "You gonna ride with Russ?"
"Actually, I just remembered my mom wanted to barbecue for dinner tonight. I probably shouldn't ruin my appetite," I say. "But you guys should go ahead. Carson's is a few blocks away and so, so good."
John and Amanda look at each other for a few seconds before he grins.
"Need a ride?" he asks her, and she bites down nervously on her bottom lip before nodding.
"Okay," she agrees. "Thanks."
I sigh with satisfaction as they walk toward the parking lot together.
One good deed done for the day.
Russ comes up behind me after he's done packing up the equipment in the gym bag. "What was that all about?"
"What?" I ask innocently.
"With Amanda and John just now," he explains. "Did they just get into his car together?"
I smile. "They did."
"And why do I get the feeling you had something to do with that?"
"Who, me? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh," he says as we start walking toward his car. "Those two have been dancing around each other for the last three play productions. You waltz in here, spend one afternoon talking to them and suddenly they're leaving together? What are you, a wizard?"
"Wizard, witch, magician, all of the above," I say with a shrug. "They're just going to grab pizza."
He shakes his head. "More than they've managed to do on their own, anyway. Not bad, rookie. You're hard to figure out sometimes."
"Better than being predictable."
Russ tosses the bag into the backseat and we hop into the car. He jams the keys into the ignition, and I reach over to pull my seatbelt on.
Nothing happens.
He turns the keys again -- the engine sputters but doesn't roar to life.
"What the..." he mutters. Russ pulls the keys out and sticks them back in and tries a third time.
And the engine cranks, coughs and dies.
"Ugh!" Russ shouts, slamming his hands against the steering wheel and flinging his body back into the seat. "That's great! Really just great! This is exactly what I need right now."
"Maybe it's just sleeping," I say helpfully, and Russ gives me a look that could melt steel.
"Thanks, Emma, that's brilliant."
"Just trying to lighten up the situation," I say. "Sheesh."
"I can't have a dead car right now. I have a hundred bucks to my name, I only work over the holidays and I need my car. This couldn't be worse timing."
"Does it have enough gas?"
As soon as the word 'gas' leaves my mouth, we're two-for-two on nasty glares from Russ, but I just shrug.
"Happened to my dad once when I was a kid. We had to hike two miles to the nearest gas station, and he says I sang songs from Sesame Street the whole way. Round trip. Dad's never run out of gas again."
"I'm not that dumb," Russ says. "The gas light came on last night so I stopped at the Fill N' Split on my way to practice this -- oh."
He stops talking and a slow smile spreads across my face. "On your way to practice this what?" I ask him.
"Yeah," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I spaced on getting gas."
"I'm waiting."
Russ blows out some air. "Sorry, Emma."
I raise an eyebrow. "And?"
Make that three lethal looks in the span of five minutes. Possibly a new record for me. "And you were right. I was wrong."
I pat him on the shoulder and unbuckle the seatbelt. "I know that was tough for you. Come on, let's go get some gas."
"I can just call someone and have them bring us a canister."
I wave him off. "There's a place up the street. The exercise isn't gonna kill you."
He sighs and climbs out of the car, locks it and we take off walking down the side of Thunderbird Road in silence.
"Good thing it's not July," he mutters when we're about five minutes in.
"I'm sweating anyway," I grumble, picking at the damp shirt that's clinging to my skin. "Who's bright idea was hiking to the gas station?"
Russ looks at me and laughs, and I can't help but smile. "I'm sure you had a better way to spend your Sunday," he says. "Sorry I ruined it."
I shake my head. "Nah, you didn't. This was fun."
"Walking down a street in the middle of a ninety-degree day is fun for you? I'll keep that in mind."
"No, I just mean the volleyball and getting to know some other people in the play. It was nice."
He nods. "There's a big whole world out there that you only find when you stop doing what you know."
"I like what I know," I admit. "It's comfortable and routine and I'm good at it. Really good."
"You're good at acting, too. It's not all or nothing."
"I guess that's true, but when you're banking on something taking you to college, there's not a lot of time left for anything else."
"Not even for fun?"
I smile wistfully. "No, I had a lot of fun. But that's what the weekend is for."
"Not hard to figure out what you did on your weekends."
"You saw for yourself," I tell him. "Drive to a party, get drunk, watch Blaine make a fool of himself, fall asleep on the floor, wake up in the morning, go home, lather, rinse, repeat. But when watching Blaine stumble all over himself with that toilet brush stopped being funny, I figured maybe I'm over it."
Russ presses his lips together. "Are you? Over it, I mean."
I nod slowly and turn to him, my stomach feeling kind of funny all of a sudden. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."
"Emma." He stops walking and looks right at me. "You just broke up with him."
"I know." My voice is soft and quiet.
"I don't want to do something half-assed. That's never been me."
"It won't be," I promise him. "It's not."
He takes a step toward me and I swallow hard. "Are you sure?"
I don't look away. "Positive."
As soon as the words touch my lips, Russ has closed the inches that remained between us, and his hands are on my back, his mouth on mine, gentle, very gentle, and my eyelids flutter closed and my brain stops working, but only after it reminds my lips that they need to pull their weight and kiss him back dammit!
So I do.
I kiss Russ.
It's not Prince Alex and Miss Halpern. It's Emma and Russ.
And it feels pretty darn good.
Russ pulls back first and looks down at me, smiling. He brushes a wayward strand of brown hair out of my eyes. "Was that okay?"
I burst out laughing at his concerned expression. "No, it was completely horrible. Of course it was okay! Way to ruin the moment, dude." I shake my head and start walking toward the gas station again.
It takes Russ a second to realize I'm moving and he jogs a few steps to catch up to me.
And when his strong, warm hand reaches out and encloses mine, I know I'm right.
I'm most definitely done with the past.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"I feel like I don't know you anymore!" Stella says two days later. We're grabbing dinner at a local bagel store, just the two of us, for what feels like the first time in years. "I don't even see you."
"It's been crazy lately," I say, spreading cream cheese across the sesame seed bagel on my plate. "Sorry I haven't had a lot of time for hanging out."
"It's cool, but jeez, fill me in! It's like you've gone silent since you and Blaine broke up. You're doing okay, right?"
I press my lips together; Russ and I have both agreed it's better if we don't flaunt our relationship -- or whatever it is, I'm not sure I'd even call him my new boyfriend right now-- around at school. I don't care that Blaine is running through the halls draped all over his Jasmine, and I don't care about the whispers and gossip that I know are fueling the rumor mill.
Let them think what they want to think. Nothing I say is going to change their minds, and I know these people: if I step out hand-in-hand with Russ, they'll all just think I'm using him to get back at Blaine. It'll make us both look pathetic, and that's not fair to Russ.
But that doesn't mean I like keeping a secret of this proportion from Stella.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm great," I say, biting into my bagel. "Never better."
She narrows her eyes. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd accuse you of lying, but I know you aren't. What gives? I never thought you and Blaine would break up, but I definitely never figured you'd be this happy a few days later."
I shrug. "No break-up is a good thing, but some are better than others. It was time."
"Yeah, because he was cheating on you. That's not a casual ending, Emma."
"It doesn't matter," I insist. "It really doesn't. I wasn't in it the way I used to be, even if I didn't know it and even if I didn't know he was cheating. Seeing him with Jasmine was just like the catalyst that officially ended us, I guess. But we were over before then and obviously we both knew it."
"I never would've guessed that," Stella says, reaching for her glass of water. "You surprise me sometimes."
"Good. I don't want to be predictable."
"So you'll be there on Saturday, right?"
"Be where?"
Stella looks at me strange. "Seriously, Em? At the game, duh. Your cast is off."
I shake my head. "I already told you I have to miss the football game."
"No!" she practically shouts. "Not that. Jeez. The conference championship. You know it's this week, right?"
I do a double take. "Wait, what? You mean for volleyball? Already? It's still September!"
"Emma, it's halfway through October," Stella says in a tone that implies she thinks I might need some help. "Where have you been?"
"I didn't realize it was here already," I say at last. "But it's on Saturday. I can't go on Saturday."
I realize I'm actually disappointed about this, too. The conference championship game is a must-win if the team is going to have any kind of shot at a third straight state title, and that hasn't been a problem in the past.
And it's a game that we always play against one of our toughest rivals.
"It's Maricopa Prep this year," Stella says as if she's reading my mind. "You have to be there. We need you. "
"No, you don't. I haven't been there all season and you guys are playing for the conference championship. You'll be fine without me."
The crease in Stella's forehead deepens. "But you're healed now," she says, looking pointedly at my wrist. It's still a lot skinnier than the other one, but it feels stronger with every passing day. "You're back."
I tilt my head to one side and study her, realization dawning on me. "Oh, Stella, you don't think I'm -- "
"Holy crap," she says at the same time, pushing her chair back from the table and jumping up. "Holy crap. You're not planning on coming back to the team."
"Stell, I don't know why you thought I was," I say. "I told Coach Morris in the beginning that I was out for the season. Dr. Marsh said I had to be out for the season."
"Yeah, but look at you now! You're fine!"
"My wrist is the same size as a pencil! I can't play volleyball like this. Not competitively, anyway. Not the way I did."
"What's Michigan Tech going to think?"
I throw my hands up in the air. "Who really cares about them? They don't want me, anyway. They made that perfectly clear when I got hurt."
Stella goes silent and drops back down into her chair. "What?" she whispers, and that's when I realize I've only told two people outside my family about the horrific news I'd gotten from the coaches at my dream college.
"Yeah," I say bitterly. "I lost my scholarship almost as fast as I broke my wrist."
"That blows, Em, but isn't it, like, all the more reason to come back? Show them you're fine?"
"I'm not supposed to play," I protest. "I could hurt it worse."
Stella shakes her head. "I don't get it. This isn't like you at all. I really don't know who you are anymore."
"I'm still me! But people change."
"Clearly."
"Besides," I say. "Saturday is Opening Night of the play. I couldn't come to the game, anyway. I have to be on stage."
"Oh." Stella snorts. "The play. Well, that explains it."
"Explains what? What's that supposed to mean?" I snap, agitated that our friendly let's-catch-up-after-an-insane-week dinner is deteriorating fast.
And it seems to be turning into a let's-all-talk-about-why-we're-not-happy-with-Emma fest.
Fantastic.
"You and that stupid play," Stella goes on like I haven't spoken. "I don't know what it is, but it's got some kind of hold on you."
"Yeah, because I like it. And I like the people I get to hang out with. That's never been a bad thing before, but suddenly it is now."
"You're right, it is now, because you're neglecting everything you committed to!"
"You just can't handle it because I have an interest that doesn't involve you."
"That's ridiculous."
I shake my head and get to my feet, my half-eaten bagel forgotten on the table. "No, this is ridiculous. I don't have time for this. When you realize that I'm doing nothing wrong here, you know where to find me."
I grab my purse off the back of the chair and start to walk out of the restaurant. We're only a few blocks from my house, and I have no plans to call anyone to come and get me.
Stella doesn't call after me, and that's the first time one of us actually gets out the door without the other one apologizing after we've had a fight.
It's just one more line on a long list of ways my life isn't anything like what it used to be.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I'm happy.
And it's nice to admit.
I'm standing in the locker room just a few minutes before our true dress rehearsal is set to start, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now.
The cheerful buzz of conversation that fills the room only makes me more grateful that I took a chance on the play. Even if I got involved for all the wrong reasons in the beginning, I don't think anything in my life has ever turned out so right.
"It's so awesome Russ made Mary put you in the play," Amanda says as she finishes adding more blush to her face so she looks just like her character, Maizie.
I stop in the middle of fastening the buttons on Miss Halpern's first outfit, the crazy yellow rain jacket and pink rubber boots ensemble.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"That I'm glad you're in the play," she repeats happily. "You weren't gonna get a part but Russ stepped in at the last minute and convinced Mary to give you a shot at Miss Halpern. He said he'd quit if she didn't." She shakes her head. "I don't know how he knew you'd be perfect for the role, but you are." She stops what she's doing and faces me. "Oh. Um. You knew all that, right?"
"Oh!" I say, swallowing hard and trying to keep my face calm and neutral even when I want to pounce on her and demand more information than what she's given me. "Yeah, of course." I pick up another bobby pin and look back at the mirror
.
Tomato Thompson stares out at me.
I'm flushed from the top of my forehead and all the way down my arms, the red rash even spreading across my chest. My breathing is labored and my stomach is tightening and I feel like I'm about to have a real hard time keeping down the turkey sandwich I had at lunch.
And the worst part is I'm dressed in some ridiculous-looking outfit that clashes like crazy.
I don't even get to look dignified while I have a total freakout.
What is Amanda talking about?
I only have a part in the play because of Russ? I mean, yeah, it's true, I only auditioned in the first place because I'm spiteful and wanted to prove him wrong, but Mary wasn't going to cast me?
It wouldn't have surprised me then after my oh-so-rousing audition song, but Russ pulled strings for me to get a part?
What?
And why?
I decide the clothes are good enough for a stupid dress rehearsal and I'm ready to stomp out from the dressing area to confront Russ when Amanda grabs onto my elbow and squeals happily, tugging me toward the stage.
"I just love dress rehearsals, don't you?"
"Oh, um, yeah."
"The smell of the fresh costumes and all the over-the-top makeup and it's so real!" She lets out a gleeful sigh, clearly oblivious to my discomfort. "It's the best time of year."
When she drags me out onto the stage and I see the rest of the cast is already gathered, I realize I'm not going to have a chance to confront Russ about what the heck I'm doing here until after the dress rehearsal.
Until after I have to kiss him.
Great.
Mary gets to her feet and launches into some long speech about how far we've come and how this is our last chance to fix everything that's wrong with us before the play opens and blah, blah, blah. I can barely concentrate and my gaze keeps wandering over to Russ. He catches my eye at one point and winks ever so slightly. It makes my stomach churn even though it's sort of become our code around the halls and during the play -- a way for us to be cute without everyone around us figuring out what's going on.
Now I don't know what to think.
But I know Russ. And him cornering Mary to demand I get a part in the play or he'd walk doesn't seem like something he'd do.