by Mia Archer
I couldn’t bring myself to try and pray them away. Maybe it was silly, but I felt like praying would be admitting my sin to God.
Thoughts of flames surrounding me pushed out thoughts of Sarah for a moment, just a moment, but it didn’t take long for Sarah to push her way back in.
She had a way of doing that.
It wasn't fair! Why would God do this to me?
I took a deep breath. Held it for a long moment. Held it until my lungs started to burn. Finally the pain got to be too much and I let it out in an explosive sigh.
“Someone sounds frustrated,” a familiar voice said from my door.
I looked up and the burning in my lungs was replaced by a burning on my cheeks and a deep panic. I quickly shoved the papers behind me, though I knew mom had to have seen them.
"Mom! I didn't see you there," I said, trailing off as I blushed.
It's not like she could read my mind. It's not like she had any way of knowing I'd been thinking about Sarah. About another girl.
Yet I still felt guilty. I knew I looked guilty.
I also knew she could tell when I was looking guilty, and she was giving me that look now. Though she seemed more amused than angry.
"So what are you hiding behind your back there?" she asked.
“Just some school work," I said, willing my voice not to break or squeak. Miraculously I didn't, but it was close.
It’s not like it was a lie. Not exactly. It was school work. School work she wouldn’t approve of, but still school work.
She arched an eyebrow. Leaned against my door with her arms crossed. It was a look that said she knew I wasn't telling the entire truth, and that she wasn't in the mood for someone not telling her the entire truth.
She was never in the mood for anyone to not tell her the entire truth. That was one of the reasons dad wasn’t around anymore.
"If that's school work then why are you hiding it from me?"
I looked down and away. I could feel heat pulsing in my cheeks.
I hated that I reacted like this when I was embarrassed or upset about something. It made it impossible to lie about anything.
At least it made it impossible to lie about anything if someone picked up on that obvious cue. And my mom had known me long enough that she knew everything about me. Including that blush when I was trying to hide something.
"It is schoolwork," I said.
She didn't say anything. She simply held her hand out. The meaning was clear. I sighed. Stood. Walked across my room like I was an inmate on death row making the final walk to the electric chair or something.
I pulled the pages out and handed them over. She looked down and it was clear from the expression on her face that she expected to find me reading something forbidden.
And in a way she was right. She took me to church every Sunday, after all. I was pretty sure she would have a problem with this sort of thing. After all, it was the sort of thing Pastor Dave would have a problem with. It was the sort of thing dad would’ve had a problem with.
Her eyes darted back and forth across the page. My blush got brighter and brighter. I felt the heat in my cheeks reaching a point that it felt like I had a fever.
When she looked up at me there was only mild surprise there.
"Reading lines from a play?" she asked. "Why would you try to hide this from me? Is it for an English class or something?"
I looked down and away again. Dang it. Why couldn't I think about doing that before I did it? If I could think about doing it then I could stop myself from doing it and giving myself away.
I knew there’d be no hiding the truth. I kept acting like I was doing something wrong, at least something that I figured she would think was wrong, and she was going to keep asking questions until she got the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth out of me.
She always said she’d gotten pretty good at figuring out when someone was lying to her because she’d married one of the best liars out there. I figured that was one big reason why they'd split.
"What are you not telling me about this? What's wrong here?" she asked.
"It's for drama class," I whispered.
I braced myself. Waited for the inevitable explosion. Going up on stage and presenting myself for the whole world to see? That was the sort of worldly thing that was wrong. Not the sort of thing I should be interested in. It was a temptation of the world and I shouldn't be indulging in temptation.
Only that explosion never came. Mom looked confused, to be sure, but she wasn't angry.
"Drama class?" she asked. "When did you sign up for drama class?"
"I decided to change my schedule before I turned it in last year,” I said.
That was close enough to the truth without being the whole truth. I couldn't quite bring myself to say that I'd always been interested in taking the class and I hadn't said anything because I'd been worried she would tell me no.
Changing my schedule after I’d gone over it with her seemed easier. At the time.
I'd heard someone say it was easier to beg forgiveness than ask for permission, but now that I was in a position where I was probably going to have to start begging for some of that forgiveness the saying rang hollow.
"Why didn't you tell me you were interested?" she asked.
That wasn't what I expected. I figured there’d be a blow up. I figured she'd be upset. But instead she just looked more confused.
"I thought you wouldn't like me being in drama class," I said. "It's not exactly the kind of thing a good girl should do, is it?"
Mom's eyes darted back and forth between my own eyes. Again I found myself bracing for the explosion. For the inevitable moment when she told me exactly how wrong I'd been. And again she surprised me.
Her face split into a smile. She actually threw her head back and laughed.
“You’re crazy sometimes kid. You know that?"
Again. Not what I was expecting.
"I am?" I asked.
I decided to ignore her calling me kid. I was not a kid anymore. I was in high school and she needed to start treating me like the adult I was, but that was an argument for another time.
"Sure you are," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. A comforting hand. Not the angry hand I'd been expecting. "I had a lot of fun in drama club when I was your age.”
Her eyes seemed far away. "Yeah, some of the things we did…"
And then she looked at me. Seemed to realize I was staring up at her and wondering what sort of things she could have done in drama club that would have her getting that far away look in her eyes.
Suddenly she was all business. She cleared her throat and shook her head.
"Well what I did in drama club isn't important," she said. "The important thing is if you're really interested in something like this then you should go ahead and enjoy it!"
Again I blinked a couple of times. Again I was having trouble believing she was actually serious. She’d been in drama club? Who was this woman and what had she done with my mom?
"Really?"
Mom laughed. "What? Do you think I'm some sort of ogre who won’t let you take drama class? Where are you getting these crazy ideas?"
I opened my mouth and I was about to say that I got those crazy ideas from Pastor Dave, but then I thought better.
Best not to get him involved. That would lead to a headache and one of those “serious conversations” he was famous for when he thought someone was stepping out of line.
"I don't know," I muttered.
“So are they doing a play or anything? Are you going to be trying out? I know you're a freshman, but you never know!"
I looked up at my mom and I had trouble containing the surprise. Again I was left wondering who was this woman and what had she done with my normally buttoned up mother? The woman who took me to church every Sunday? The woman who always told me how important it was to always try to be a good girl?
"I suppose they will be doing a play, but I don't have a chance," I said.
I thought back to what Sarah had told me. How she'd tried out for a role when she was a freshman, and how she hadn't had a chance. If someone as experienced as her didn't have a chance then what were the chances I’d have a chance?
None at all.
"Well you never know," she said. "If they're doing a play you should totally try out!"
I couldn’t believe it. It was a secret desire that had been building inside me ever since I heard about the drama club plays, but I didn't think it was something I could actually do.
I figured the moment mom heard I was doing something like that she’d put the kibosh on the whole thing. And now here she was encouraging me?
What strange world was this that I'd landed in? I just didn't know. But if she was going to give me permission to do something I wanted to do then I wasn't going to turn her down.
"Yeah, well maybe I'll think about it," I said. “There's still a little time before tryouts."
I didn’t know if they were even having tryouts. I mean it made sense that Mr. Thompson would do something like that considering they had to do a fall play, but he hadn’t said anything about what he was planning
Mom fixed me with one of those looks that said she knew I was hiding something. And I was.
Sarah. I pushed that thought away as soon as it occurred to me though. Not a conversation I wanted to be having with my mom right now thank you very much.
"Well you do what you want to do," she said. "Don't let me push you into anything."
"I wouldn't," I said.
I felt weird explaining to her that it was a relief knowing that she'd just given me permission to do something I was convinced she wouldn't want me to do in a million years. She wouldn't understand. There were some things old people, and my mom definitely qualified as old people, just didn't understand.
Mom surprised me by pulling me into a hug. The pages fell to the floor between us, though it's not like there were that many pages to begin with.
"You know I only want the best for you, right?" she whispered it into my hair.
I was blushing again, but now it was for good old-fashioned teenage embarrassment over a parent who was acting ridiculous.
"Um, yeah mom. I know," I said.
I let her hold the hug though. It seemed like it was something she needed. I knew things had been hard for her since she split with dad.
Some people at church had been less than friendly since they split. Divorce might be a fifty/fifty thing in today’s world, but that didn’t stop the old ladies in the pews from judging people for going through with it.
Finally she pulled away. Looked down at me and she had this weird smile on her face.
"I can't believe my little girl is all grown up.”
Okay. Now this was starting to get really embarrassing. The last thing I needed was for mom to start getting all weepy about how proud she was.
It’s not like I’d done anything to be proud of. I was just in high school. Lots of people went to high school and they didn’t have parents getting all weepy over the fact.
“Sorry,” she said, stepping back and wiping a tear from her eye.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Ugh. Parents. At least we weren’t in front of anyone.
“So I know you’re in the middle of something important here. You keep right on doing that and I’ll get out of your hair,” she said.
“Thanks mom,” I replied.
“And remember. If there’s ever anything you want to talk about, anything you need to get off your chest, I’m here to listen,” she said.
An awkward pause stretched out between us. I knew she was here to listen, she used that line on me all the time, but I also knew there wasn’t a chance I was ever going to take her up on that offer.
There were just some things you couldn’t talk about with your mom. Especially things like Sarah. So instead of taking her up on the unspoken offer, an offer that almost made me wonder if she knew something, I walked to my door and started closing it in her face.
Rude? Maybe, but she was the one who said she was going to give me some time to myself.
“I know mom, and thanks,” I said.
The door shut with a click. I leaned against it and took a couple of deep breaths.
That had gone way better than I thought it would, but I still needed to lie down and rest. I also knew I wasn’t going to do anything of the sort.
I needed to be the best I could possibly be when I delivered that monologue, so I gathered up the papers, put them back in order, and started pacing repeating it over and over.
At least I didn’t have to worry about being quiet now that that cat was out of the bag. Other cats could stay safely in that bag though, thank you very much, no matter how much they were hissing and spitting and clawing to get out.
8
Sarah
I paced back and forth in front of the mini stage. It’s not like it was as big as the real thing in the auditorium, but it felt like the real thing.
“You going to be okay down there Sarah?” Mr. Thompson asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.
And what a lie. My stomach was twisted into knots. My pulse was racing. Goose bumps kept moving up and down the length of my arm. I kept having the urge to run up to Mr. Thompson’s office so I could ralph in his tiny trashcan that definitely wasn’t big enough to hold everything I ate for lunch today.
So instead I paced back and forth. I got here before anyone else. Other people were filing in, but still no sign of Chloe.
Today was the big day. She would deliver her monologue from Mr. Farnsworth Takes A Bride and there was a big chunk of my grade riding on whether or not she did a good job.
Not to mention the nerves of wondering whether or not I could actually teach. If she got up there and did a bad job I think it would kill me.
“She’s going to do fine,” Mr. Thompson said.
He was sitting on the edge of the stage. Normally he’d kick his feet back and forth. If we were in the auditorium. We weren’t in the auditorium, though, and his feet easily touched the ground. Actually his knees were up just a little.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised what us old people know,” he said, giving me a look that was so knowing that I had to turn away from him.
I didn’t like the idea that I might be that obvious in the little crush I was developing on my freshman student.
It’s not like it was a big deal. Juniors and freshmen dated all the time. I’d even found out through our lessons that she was only about a year and a half younger than me. It’s just that the voodoo magic of school start times separated us by two grades instead of one.
No one would bat an eye if it was a junior guy dating a freshman girl. Then again there were a lot of people who would bat their eyes at any relationship I started.
I blushed and turned away from Mr. Thompson. I was annoyed that I blushed as soon as the color hit my cheeks. I was not the kind of girl who blushed.
I was the kind of girl who walked down the hall glaring at anyone who gave me any sort of attitude. I was queen drama bitch of this school. I didn’t go so far as to think black was the only color ever needed and the rest of the fashion industry was ridiculous for using other colors of the rainbow, but the preppy kids still stepped lightly around me as though I had gone full goth.
I didn’t act like this. I didn’t feel like this. Yet here I was pacing up and down in front of the stage and I couldn’t decide if I was nervous because I wanted Chloe to get in here and do her monologue or if I was nervous because I needed to see her.
Finally a familiar face stepped into the room and I breathed a sigh of relief. She was here. She hadn’t decided to flake out of drama today because she was terrified of delivering her monologue.
I’d heard of kids who dropped the class entirely before their first big day because they realized they were actually going to have to perform in front of people.
I walked up to her. I
couldn’t wait. I wanted to be near her, plus I wanted to go over a few things before it was her turn to get up on stage and deliver the monologue.
She held up a hand and stopped me before I could say anything.
“Please,” she said. “I’m already nervous enough and you look like you’re ready to pop so I don’t need it right now.”
That shut me up nice and quick. Well then. If she didn’t want to talk to me then she didn’t want to talk to me.
“But…”
“I’ve been working on this all week. I’m sleep deprived. Just let me do this. I’ve got it,” she said.
“Right,” I said, rather weakly if I did say so myself. “Just remember everything we went over.”
“Believe me I’ve been remembering it,” she said. “That’s part of the problem.”
She put her bag down. I wanted to ask her what the heck she meant by that, but the tone that told the whole school it was time for class to start sounded and Mr. Thompson stood and clapped his hands together.
“Right!” he said. “So you know what today is. If this was a real class teaching something boring like math or science it would be a pretty big test, but this is drama so you’re going to get up here and perform!”
Mutterings and mumblings rose from all around the room. It was clear there were more than a few people out there who weren’t happy about the idea of being forced to get up and perform.
What they were doing in a drama class if they didn’t like performing was beyond me, but whatever.
“So I do this all the time and no one ever takes me up on it, but do we have any volunteers to go first?” he asked.
Complete silence. It was completely unlike a play or a drama club event. At those you could always count on someone hopping up willing to show off.
It was the nature of the club. Everyone who was in there had self selected as the sort of person who likes getting up on the stage and performing for a crowd.
The people here in this class today couldn’t be any more different. They were here for a grade even if they were obviously interested in performing enough to come to the class. No one would…
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned and stared, astonished, as Chloe looked at me and smiled. Her hand raised proudly.