“This is bad,” I blurted. “Really bad.”
“Not the usual response from someone who’s just landed the lead role,” Miles joked.
My head was pounding. I cried, “What is that crazy lady thinking?”
“That crazy lady is thinking you have a lovely singing voice and an innocent air about you that tells me you’re perfect for our Eliza,” Mrs. Cobb said from behind me.
“Oh, God,” I whispered in embarrassment.
She ignored me. “You can also handle a cockney accent.”
I turned around slowly. My face was probably as red as the scarf draped dramatically around Mrs. Cobb’s neck. “I’m sorry. This is just… it doesn’t make sense.”
“Pish, posh. Rehearsals start tomorrow after school. And, I’ll be seeing you in class, Caroline. Or should I call you… Eliza?”
To: Hannah
From: Caroline
Date: September 18
Subject: The end of the world as we know it
Cast list was posted today and I’m Eliza. As in the lead role.
Apparently I have an innocent air about me and a lovely voice... Or should I say a ‘loverly’ voice????
:/
I’m still holding out hope that the world will end before opening night.
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 18
Subject: CONGRATS MISS DOOLITTLE!
That’s the spirit! When the going gets tough, hope for the apocalypse. I know that’s what I do when I’m out there on the pumpkin court.
So freaking proud of you!
Hannah
____________
To: Hannah
From: Caroline
Date: September 19
Subject: Armageddon
I need chocolate chip cookies and a PSL stat!
Btw, how is your writing class going? Have they dubbed you the next Jane Austen or J.K Rowling yet?
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 20
Subject: Re: Armageddon
Hardly. I suck.
____________
To: Hannah
From: Caroline
Date: September 21
Subject: Re: Re: Armageddon
You don’t suck.
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 22
Subject: You may be biased
You’re only saying that because you are my bestie and therefore required by law to love me.
____________
To: Hannah
From: Caroline
Date: September 24
Subject: If anyone sucks, it’s me
I do love you. What I don’t love are rehearsals! I know we are only a few days into it but it’s awful. I’m awful. Miles already has all of his lines memorized. Seriously??? How is that possible? Told you he wasn’t nearly as stupid as you thought.
Anyway, I seriously don’t know what Mrs. Cobb was thinking. Today was especially bad. Today we started learning the choreography and I kept messing up. I swear I have two left feet. :(
I’m pretty sure I heard Meredith Krauss and Selena Chalmers giggling back in the corner. Either one of them would’ve made a much better Eliza—something I’ve heard them whispering loudly behind my back so I know they know it too.
I’m going to take Aspen out to clear my head.
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 24
Subject: XOXO
Give Aspen hugs from me!
____________
To: Owen
From: Hannah
Date: September 26
Subject: We NEED to talk…
Please call me. You owe me at least that much.
____________
To: Cecilia
From: Hannah
Date: September 27
Subject: Update
Mom,
Everything is great like I knew it would be. Felicity is great. London is great. School is great.
Now, if you would, please tell Henry that I got his latest email and if he really is planning to sell the shoes I left behind on Craigslist, I will be forced to release the photo of him playing in the sprinklers (remind him it’s the one where he’s naked) on an unsuspecting public.
This is not an idle threat.
Love, Jellybean
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 28
Subject: What a loverly surprise!
Imagine my surprise when I opened up a box and saw that it was filled with Cheetos and FunDip and Kraft mac & cheese and Pretzel M&Ms and Reese’s and JELLYBEANS (of course LOL). YOU REALLY ARE LOVERLY!
When I get home, I am going to encourage the entire town to throw a parade in your honor.
XOXO
Hannah
Btw, random question… Have you heard anything from Owen lately?
____________
To: Owen
From: Hannah
Date: September 30
Subject: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH
Owen,
If I don’t hear from you today, I’m just going to assume that we’re through. I know that you’re mad and you’re hurt that I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear but just blocking me out is totally UNFAIR. You know that I had to make a go of this trip. It’s LONDON! I had an amazing opportunity and I think that if you really love someone (like you claim you do), you don’t want to keep them from following their heart. You want them to chase their dreams even if it means you don’t get to hold onto them.
I just can’t believe that after everything, we’ve come to THIS. It’s just me hashing it out with MYSELF through emails that you refuse to answer! I usually think of this kind of behavior as stupid. After everything we’ve been through, aren’t we better than that?
Hannah
____________
I had one running theory.
Joel Sinclair had developed a very acute and specific case of amnesia and I was the only thing wiped from his memory. I knew it was far-fetched, but why else would he choose to sit in the seat behind me during class but not even bother to say hello?
Was it selective amnesia or was he doing it merely to torture me?
It had been weeks since we’d gone out after the library, and despite at least a dozen opportunities between class and afternoon practice, he hadn’t tried to speak me. Hell, forget speaking. He’d barely made eye contact.
I’d been over the night a million times, examining and reexamining it inch by inch, word for word. I thought about our easy camaraderie and the obvious chemistry between us and, of course, the kiss-that-never-was.
Had I ruined everything?
“What do you think, Hannah?”
I inhaled noisily and turned sideways in my chair to face Tillie. “I’m sorry—what?
At the blank expression on my face, she laughed under her breath. “Where were you? Off in Never-never Land? You missed the entire last half of class and—” she pointed to the notebook on my desk “—you didn’t even start your entry.”
I looked from the blank page in front of me to the clock above Mr. Hammond’s desk and saw that Tillie was right. The bell was going to ring in about three minutes. People were already starting to put away their writing journals a
nd, aside from my name and the date, I’d written absolutely nothing.
“I was just…” Sure that I could feel Joel shifting in the seat behind me, my heartbeat picked up and my breath caught in my throat. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, quickly changing direction. “Anyway, what were you saying, Tillie?”
“I was just talking about practice. I told Ruben that I was going to ask Mr. Hammond if we could work on service drills. I also could use some work on my straight drives.”
I moaned, “You’re not serious?”
But it was obvious that she was.
From a row over, Ruben dryly said, “Tillie is trying to make the national team.”
“Quiet, you cheeky monkey,” she said on a laugh. “I just want us to all be in good form when we play Weatherstone.”
“We play them in like a month,” I pointed out.
“Exactly. Time is running out.”
I pitched my head back and groaned. “It’s Friday,” I said. “FRIDAY!”
“I’m aware of the day of the week,” she answered.
“I just don’t think we should have practice today. Friday afternoons should not be spent doing anything remotely related to school or squash. God, especially not squash.”
Tillie blinked her large eyes at me. “What should we be doing?”
“Since I haven’t seen much of London outside of school or my house, I don’t really know.” I let go of a sigh. “Tagging walls with inappropriate graffiti? Hacking into government databases? You’re the natives so you tell me.”
“Hannah,” Ruben interjected, “you might as well forget a career in hacking. You couldn’t even figure out how to download the economics tutorial Ms. Lawrence sent out on Tuesday.”
Laughing, Tillie nodded her head in agreement. “He’s right.”
“Very funny.” I felt my neck go hot. Either Joel was watching me or I was coming down with the flu. I pulled a rubber band from the pocket of my school blazer and gathered my hair into a low ponytail.
“Back to squash,” Tillie redirected. “Mr. Hammond doesn’t take attendance at practice but you do remember him saying it would be beneficial, don’t you?”
“Well, if Mr. Hammond said it then of course it’s true,” Ruben said with a sly smile. We were both well aware of Tillie’s crush.
Her cheeks turned a startling shade of pink. “This isn’t about me. It’s about the team.”
I picked up my hand like I was taking an oath. “Hand to God, Tillie, the number of practices I make it to won’t help the team. I’ll never be ready for an actual game.”
Tille made a face. “Everyone is going to be there, Hannah. Ruben, Oliver, Pamela, Ava...” Her eyes slid over my shoulder. “What about you, Joel?”
Behind me, I heard a noise of uncertainty. “I—uh… probably.”
“You should at least try. We all could use the help. And, Hannah, you’ve got to keep in mind that you’re doing much better than you were a few weeks ago,” Tillie said diplomatically. “Didn’t you score a point off Mags in your final match yesterday afternoon?”
I leaned in toward her and whispered, “I only got that point because Mags’ contact popped out of her eye and she was temporarily rendered blind.”
Joel made a choking sound.
I glanced back and lifted one eyebrow, creating what I hoped was the picture of indifference.
“Amusing, isn’t it?” It was the first thing I’d said to him in weeks.
For a split second, he looked surprised that I’d finally broken the long-standing silence. Then he tried to cover it up by coughing into his closed fist. “Nope. Just got a little something caught in my throat.”
I wanted to scream, “WHAT GIVES, JOEL SINCLAIR?” Instead, I dismissively flipped my gaze to Tillie. “So, this afternoon…”
“This afternoon you’ll go to the practice with Ruben and me?” she asked.
I gave an exaggerated eye roll and laughed. “You’re relentless!”
“But that means you’ll go?”
I slapped my hands against my desk and dropped my head. “I’ll go.”
At that precise moment, the bell rang and Joel heaved himself from his desk chair. Then I heard his low voice. “I guess I’ll see you at practice?”
Okay, now the temptation was too much. Was he talking to me? I lifted my head and peeked and saw that Joel was standing in the aisle beside my desk. He had both of his thumbs hooked beneath the straps of his backpack and he was definitely looking at me. AT ME.
“So, I’ll see you?” he said again and this time there was something solid in his tone.
I had no idea what was going on or what to say, so I just nodded my head.
He smiled. “Great.”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled back. “Great.”
****
“Budge up,” Tillie said as she knocked her hip against mine.
“Ooomf!” I dropped the sweaty hand towel I was holding over my shoulder and scooted over on the bench to make room for her.
It was toward the end of squash practice. Half an hour ago, Mr. Hammond had paired Tillie and me to play doubles against Nathan Walsch and Ava. We lost the game nine to one and were now recovering on the sidelines.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking a sip from her water bottle.
I shook my head and used my forearm to wipe the salty sweat from above my lip. “It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. I’d been staring at Joel, who was currently playing Pamela, and thinking about that night again. The night of our almost-kiss.
“Somehow I don’t believe you,” she said.
“And why’s that?” I asked, taking the bait.
“Because of the look on your face.”
I turned to her. “How do I look?”
Tillie moved her eyes over my features. “Like someone murdered your kitten.”
I laughed for a second. Then I took a deep breath and reluctantly whispered, “I went out with Joel.”
“Joel?” Her eyes skidded to the squash court.
“Don’t look at him!”
Tillie made a noise and turned back to me. She bowed her head so only I could hear her when she whispered, “Sorry, I was just surprised. I expected you to say that you were actually an undercover spy, or that you were about to undergo a sex change operation. Anything but that.”
I laughed.
“Joel Sinclair?” she asked, glancing at the squash court. “Really and truly?”
I nodded. “Really and truly.”
“Bloody hell. You like him,” Tillie said knowingly. “You really like him.”
“I think I might,” I admitted quietly. Finally saying the words out loud made me realize just how much I needed to talk to someone about what I was feeling.
She shook her head and lifted up both of her hands. “I thought you told me you have a boyfriend in America. Owen? Is that not…?”
“Yeah, that’s not really a thing anymore.”
“Since when?”
“Since… “ I cringed. “Well, pretty much since I got here.”
Her eyebrows climbed her forehead.
“Yeah,” I continued, blowing out a breath. “We didn’t officially break up but we haven’t talked at all, so I assume that means we’re through.”
“Oh.”
“Yep,” I said in a flat tone.
“And you went out with Joel? When was this?”
“A few weeks ago we went out for sausages. And that is not a euphemism, okay? We actually went out to eat and we ordered a sausage platter.”
“Okay,” she said, holding back a laugh.
“And I thought we had fun but he’s pretty much ignored me ever since.”
“He talked to you today in class,” she pointed out. “I saw it myself.”
I shrugged. “Still… him saying that he’d see me at practice isn’t exactly a romantic gesture, is it?”
“Well, no.”
“See? I’ve been over that night a bazillion times. I’ve thought a
bout it so much that I seriously think I’m at risk for becoming one of those girls. You know the ones I’m talking about?” I waited for Tillie to nod her head. “Ugh, I despise those girls and I’m turning into one!”
She chuckled and shook her head. “You are not.”
“I am! Maybe he thought I was annoying? Or boring?” I said. “Maybe I didn’t talk enough… Or maybe I talked too much! Ugh, I probably talked too much.”
“Well you do talk too much,” Tillie said, grinning. “But my question is—does Joel know you’re single?”
I moved my shoulders. “I told him that Owen and I broke up.”
“Your Facebook page still says that you’re in a relationship,” she observed.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Tillie made a face. “If you ask me, I think that Joel Sinclair is pining for you as we speak, but he thinks you’re already taken so he’s protecting his fragile heart. You little heartbreaker,” she chided. “The poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Who doesn’t stand a chance?” Ruben asked, toppling onto the bench next to Tillie.
Mr. Hammond had just called the end of practice and everyone was scattering—rounding up the equipment, disappearing into the changing room, and collecting their things.
“Ew!” Tillie complained, moving her arm away from Ruben. “So sweaty.”
“You don’t like it?” He shook his sweaty hair like a dog and we all laughed.
Steering the Stars Page 11