“This way,” he said, leading me across the bridge. “Hyde Park connects to Kensington Gardens and that’s where they have the best ice cream.”
“With a flake,” I reminded him, blinking up at the sky.
“Try it again,” Mrs. Cobb suggested. She made a rolling motion with her hands. “Take a deep breath Caroline.”
I looked down and squeezed my eyes shut. Why wasn’t I getting this? I didn’t want to let everyone down, but we’d been rehearsing for a while now and it was time to face the facts: I was not meant to shine. The spotlight was not the place for Caroline McKain. That much was glaringly obvious.
“Do you need to look over the lines again?” Miles asked and pulled a sheet of paper from the back pocket of his brown dress pants. We were in the middle of a partial dress rehearsal and aside from an archaic suit that smelled like mothballs, he was wearing a wig and glasses.
“It’s not...” I paused long enough to suck in a lungful of air. I knew that the entire cast was watching us and I could imagine what they were thinking. Me flubbing my part was becoming a running joke. “It’s not that I don’t know the lines. I know them backward and forward and probably diagonally too. I can sing The Rain in Spain in my sleep. At home, I get everything perfect, but once I’m on stage with you, my mind just—”
The play, the scenes, the songs… all of it was running on a tiresome loop through my head. I was so exhausted and defeated, I wanted to drop to the stage and scream at bright lights.
I had told everyone in the beginning that playing Eliza was too much for me to handle. But nooooo. No one had listened and look where that had gotten us. Opening night was less than a month away and each practice was turning into a bigger failure than the last.
“So the problem isn’t memorization?” Mrs. Cobb asked, looking me up and down.
“N-no,” I said, getting more and more flustered.
The problem wasn’t memorization. The problem was that when I was on stage like this, everything got out of whack and shaky. My heart started to clack around my body. My head started to pound. Even my vision went foggy.
“When I’m up here, all of the lines and the choreography are bouncing against the side of my skull,” I told her. “It comes my turn and I draw a complete and total blank. I end up standing here like a brainless zombie. Actually, watching a zombie on stage would probably be more interesting than watching me stutter my way through a scene.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said and gave my shoulders a soft motherly squeeze. “This is a classic case of stage fright and I think with a few breathing and imagery exercises, we can get you past this.”
Breathing and imagery exercises?
“Let’s try it again. This time, I want to see Miles enter from stage left.” She pointed as she made her way down the stage steps out toward where the audience would sit. “Caroline, remember to breathe and relax your body. Forget about the audience and anyone watching. Maybe try to visualize yourself in a meadow surrounded by daffodils. There’s a soft breeze moving through your hair. The air smells sweet, like the first day of summer.”
Was she being serious?
“Got that?” Miles asked with a half-smile on his face.
“Um, yeah. I’ll try it,” I said skeptically.
“Great!” she shouted back. “Let’s take it from the top! Cassie, cue the music please!”
As predicted, the meadow thing didn’t work and the rest of practice was embarrassing and horrible. I knew that despite what Mrs. Cobb thought, the rest of the cast and crew were quickly zooming past understanding to frustration and annoyance. Of course knowing that did nothing to calm my already-frazzled nerves.
Loverly voice or not, I was obviously the wrong choice for this role and at this point, quitting seemed like the best option. Mrs. Cobb would be disappointed and my grade would take a nosedive, but wasn’t stepping aside actually doing everyone else a favor?
“You okay?” Henry asked on our way home.
“Not really. I suck.”
“You don’t suck.”
“Except I do.”
He glanced my way. “Caroline…”
It was a Wednesday, just five days after our “sleepover” and something between Henry and I had definitely shifted. We hadn’t talked about it and it was nothing I could put my finger on. Still, it was there…
“I keep messing up my lines,” I grumbled. “I think the best thing to do for everyone involved is to walk away.”
“You can’t quit after you’ve already put so much work in,” he said. “Plus, you have the time to get it right. Opening night is—”
“Only a few weeks away,” I interjected. “And I’m the only one up there who still needs to reference the script.”
He shook his head. “But everyone else has done this before.”
“Does that matter?”
“Of course it matters. A month ago you were worried about throwing up on stage. I’d call this progress.”
I sighed. “That’s nice of you to say but I’m not used to… failing.”
“You aren’t failing.”
“That’s what it feels like.”
After a moment, he said, “Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I can help you.”
I turned in my seat. “How?”
Henry’s shoulders moved. “We’ll run lines together or whatever works. I can read for Professor Higgins and whoever else you need me to.”
I was sure my jaw was hanging. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would. Especially if we can include pizza somehow.”
I giggled. “I-uh… don’t remember pizza in the script.”
“Artistic license?”
I laughed some more. “You know, now that you mention food...”
“You’re hungry?” he asked.
“Starved.”
“Good,” he said with a sharp smile. “Because I am too. Let’s grab a pizza from Joe’s then we can go back to my place.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Joe’s Pizzeria was always packed, and tonight was no exception. There were some faces I recognized from school and a bunch I didn’t. We ordered a large with pepperoni, mushrooms and peppers, then we waited in two chairs in the lounge area for about a half hour. It was like a long time for pizza, but Libby Park wasn’t exactly chock-full of options and a pie from Joe’s was worth it.
While we waited, a few seniors came over to talk to Henry. I got the distinct feeling they were wondering what he was doing here with me. I tried not to care about that but truthfully, I felt all sorts of awkward. To try and cover up my unease, I let my eyes wander around the restaurant. A copper-haired guy in a letterman jacket standing at the front of the line caught my eye.
I’d recognize that head anywhere. Even from the back.
Quietly excusing myself, I walked over and tapped the guy on the shoulder. “Owen?”
He turned around and I watched his face collapse.
What was that all about? I didn’t need a fireworks display or a band to start playing but I at least thought he’d be happy to see me.
Owen Kilgore had been one of my best friends since the first grade. We grew up together. We learned to tie our shoes at the same time and we caught fireflies in jars in the summers and traded insults on the playground and taught each other how to make mud pies. Not to mention that he was Hannah’s boyfriend.
“Hi, Care. It’s great to see you,” he said even though it obviously was not great to see me.
I hugged him, which he returned with one arm.
Feeling awkward, I stepped back and decided to start over. Maybe he was just missing Hannah and I reminded him of her? That would make sense.
“So, Owen, how have you been? We haven’t talked in so long.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I meant to call you a million times but things got busy and one thing led to another.” I took a quick breath before blathering on. “I got the lead in the musical. Insane right? S
o I’ve been super busy with rehearsals. Not that you haven’t been busy with lacrosse and your new school. How’s that going, by the way?”
“It’s good,” he answered simply.
I gave him a minute to elaborate and when he didn’t, I said, “Have you talked to Hannah today?”
He shook his head and looked away. “Nope.”
“Oh, well… squash practice, you know?” I laughed thinking he’d join in, but Owen never even cracked a smile.
“She’s busy with her new friends and writing,” I offered helpfully.
He still wouldn’t look at me and I was getting the distinct impression that Owen wanted to be anywhere but here. A fact that was confirmed when the girls at the register called out his pickup order.
He grabbed the pizza box. “Hey, Care, I’ve got to run. See you around though.”
What the heck? Maybe I really did smell? I was going to have to do a discreet pit-test before Henry and I were back at his place. Luckily I knew where Hannah kept her extra toiletries for emergencies like this
“Owen… wait!” I called out, following him out of the restaurant. “What’s going on?”
Owen stopped walking and let out a heavy sigh. “What do you mean?”
“You’re acting… I don’t know. Really weird.”
“I’m not acting,” he muttered to himself.
“What?”
He started walking away. “Just...just ask Hannah. Okay?”
Not about to chase after him a second time, I reentered Joe’s and plunked down in the chair next to Henry.
“Was that Owen?” Henry asked.
“Yeah.”
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah…” I started uncertainly. Something was definitely going on in Owen’s life but I wasn’t sure what it was. His new school? Lacrosse? Or maybe it was his dad?
The last thought made my stomach tighten. Owen’s dad had always struggled with alcoholism, but for the past couple of years he’d been clean and in a program.
“Things felt off,” I told Henry. “It was like… like he didn’t want to talk to me. I’m worried about him. What if something’s happened with his dad?”
“You could ask Jellybean,” Henry suggested. “She might know something you don’t.”
“Maybe.” It would make sense that she would know more about Owen’s life than I would. A long time ago we were on equal footing—The Three Musketeers of Libby Park—but now Hannah was Owen’s girlfriend.
“You know, Owen could have just been in a hurry.”
“Maybe,” I repeated. But I didn’t really believe that.
****
Henry and I stuffed our faces with pizza and ran lines for about an hour before he declared that I had nothing to worry about and that it was all in my head and offered to drive me home. I said I would walk and he said I was crazy and we went back and forth for a while until he told me that if I didn’t get in the car, he would pick me up and carry me home.
I got in the car.
After a short drive home—just five turns—he pulled into the driveway and put the car in park and flipped off the headlights.
“You don’t have to get out,” I said.
Henry shrugged like it was no big deal. “I don’t mind.”
Honestly, neither did I.
When we got inside, Aspen immediately started making her rounds, hopping about and alternating between licking my face and putting her paws on Henry’s chest.
“Why is she making that sound?” Henry asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know…” He made a funny, whiny sound and I laughed.
“Huskies don’t bark. They ‘talk’ but it’s not like a normal dog bark,” I said, petting her furry head. “I think she’s trying to tell me that she’s mad I’m home late.”
“Sorry, Aspen. That was my fault.”
“I’ll make it up to her by taking her on an extra long walk.” Holding onto Aspen, I reached for the leash that hung on a hook near the front door. When Aspen saw what was happening, she got so excited, I thought she might pull my arm out of the socket.
“I’ll go with you,” Henry offered. “It’s late and you shouldn’t be prowling the streets alone.”
I made a funny face. “Prowling? What am I—a tiger? Technically, I won’t be alone with Aspen. And anyway, I do it all the time.”
I was never afraid to be out at night with Aspen. People typically stayed clear of us, throwing frightened glances at my wolf-dog. I let them be nervous even though in actuality my husky was the most gentle beast in the world. I didn’t think she’d be able to fend off a butterfly, let alone a killer.
Henry hadn’t budged. “I still don’t like it.”
“And you really want to go with me?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I’m wondering what it will take to run this dog into exhaustion.”
My gaze swung between them. Aspen was practically leaping at the door. “Probably more than you have.”
“Hey!”
I laughed. “But, tonight I’ll save your pride. No running for me. I’m not exactly dressed for it.”
“Then a walk?”
“Okay,” I said grabbing my keys.
With Aspen in the lead, we walked the length of Briar Trail and took a left on Freeling Road. A few blocks later, the sidewalk ended abruptly at Kirkwood Park. It was dark, but the playground and the surrounding area were lit up with towering domed lights.
“Come on,” Henry said, easily stepping over a short fence.
In no hurry for him to go home, I followed.
The temperature had dropped drastically in the past couple of hours, but that was nothing new for Oklahoma. As soon as the sun fell below the horizon, everything cooled down and the wind picked up. With her thick double coat, Aspen was thoroughly enjoying herself.
I, on the other hand, was beginning to shiver. It was also possible that my fingertips were turning blue.
Henry stopped. “Caroline, you look like you’re turning into an ice cube. We should head back to your house.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Take my jacket,” he said slipping it off his shoulders.
“No way. I already have one of your sweatshirts,” I reminded him. “And if you give me your jacket you’ll be cold.”
He draped his jacket over my shoulders anyway. “I don’t get cold.”
“Because you’re a manly man?”
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
“Well, thanks…” I pulled the sides of the jacket together. It was warm with his body heat and it did feel nice. “This is much better.”
We stood in the quiet for a minute, just letting Aspen sniff at the ground. From somewhere to my right, I heard a deep cooing sound. Aspen picked up her head and perked her ears.
“Was that…?”
“It was an owl,” Henry confirmed. “This way.”
We crunched over the mulch in the playground, our eyes scanning the trees that were outlined against the night sky.
“I think there,” Henry said, tilting his head toward a tall elm tree.
My eyes sifted through the dark and finally I made out the shape of a bird perched on the very tip of a bare branch.
“That branch is like the size of a twig,” I pointed out. “Isn’t it crazy how they can just sit there like it’s nothing?”
“When you have wings, you aren’t afraid to fall.”
I shook my whole body and mumbled, “I wish I had wings. If that were me, I’d go splat.”
Henry was quiet but I could feel him watching me. “Care?”
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m not suicidal or anything like that. I’m not jumping off a building anytime soon.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Then what?”
Henry straightened. “I was just wondering if you were going to Homecoming.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
He thought about that. “So
no one has asked you?”
I let go of a humorless chuckle. “No.”
Henry waited for second before saying, “You should go.”
“I’m already being forced to dance in My Fair Lady. I really don’t think I need to subject people to more of my uncoordinated moves. Don’t you remember the summer Hannah and I were nine and she talked me into entering that hula hoop contest?”
“We were at the cabin at Lake of the Ozarks and, yes, I remember it vividly.” He chuckled.
“You should. It was your nose I almost broke.”
He rubbed his nose. “I bet if you go to the dance with me, I could teach you how to dance. Or we could not dance. Whatever you want.”
I didn’t know what to say. It sounded an awful lot like he was asking me to go to the dance with him…
“Umm.” That was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment.
“So what do you say? Is it a bet? Winner gets a lifetime supply of Pumpkin Spice lattes.”
“But, they’re only here in the fall,” I said like an idiot.
He threw his hands in the air. “Care! Just say yes!”
“Y-yeah. I mean… yes. I’ll go to homecoming with you.”
Through the dark, Henry smiled at me.
And just like that, I was flying.
“I’m not doing well in class,” I said quietly. “I got another bad grade today and Mr. Hammond has told me twice that he wanted to see more of me in my work.”
“Then that’s what you’ll give him,” Joel said, steering me around the corner.
It was Thursday—a day we didn’t normally have practice, but Mr. Hammond had called an extra one and we’d begrudgingly complied.
When practice finished, Joel had insisted on accompanying me back to the apartment and now we were walking down Bridgeman Street with our hands linked and our arms swinging between our bodies. The pavement was drying out after a mid-afternoon storm and the air was cool and wet. I could feel it seeping in through my hoodie but I didn’t mind. It felt great after the sticky heat of the gym.
I sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Nah, not easy,” he said. “Writing is hard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I know you and I know what you’ve got it inside of you.”
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