by Megan Stine
“Cool.” I nodded approvingly. I loved how excited she was. Her whole face lit up when she talked about things that interested her.
“I hope you don’t mind, I got this hat, too,” she said meekly. “I know costumes are your thing, but I couldn’t resist it.”
She thrust a bright blue satin pillbox hat at me. It had a veil, and the most amazing pale blue silk flower on one side.
“I love it,” I said.
“Sorry if I’m stepping on your toes or anything.” She was so apologetic.
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “It’s fabulous! You did the right thing.”
I swear to God, I think this girl would apologize to plants. Most of the cast members had straggled in and were milling around, talking, waiting for Mr. Richards to get things rolling. He clapped his hands to quiet everyone down.
“Chorus girls onstage,” he called. “Everyone else, work on your lines.”
“Let’s go sit in the back,” I whispered, motioning to Emily. “I want to watch the rehearsal, scope out some ideas.”
“Okay,” she said, slightly reluctantly. From the look on her face, I could tell she was calculating whether or not she would be invisible enough in the back row.
I could feel her relaxing as soon as we slouched down in the seats. The auditorium was dark, and we could whisper about everyone without being heard.
Onstage, Mr. Richards was having Stella Macaffrey work out some choreography for the Hot Box girls. Off to the side, Tyler and Natalie were working on their first scene.
“She’s pretty,” Emily said, watching Natalie with envy. “I can see why Mr. Richards picked her.”
“Yeah,” I agreed halfheartedly.
“Oh, wait!” Emily was all flustered. “Did you want that part? I mean, I thought you went out for Miss Adelaide. I mean, I wasn’t saying she was prettier than you or anything.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s not so much that I wanted her part. I wanted what she’s got.”
“You mean her voice?”
“I mean her leading man,” I admitted. I felt safe telling Emily things. She wasn’t the gossipy type.
“Ohhhh. Yeah. He’s definitely cute.”
“He’s way hot,” I muttered, letting my real feelings show. “And funny. He’s hilarious in Mrs. Raymer’s class.”
Wow, I thought. I suddenly realized something: Emily wasn’t treating me like she thought I was a slut. Was that because she hadn’t read Joey’s blog? Was she just too out of the loop to have heard the rumors?
Or was she taking me at face value, without assuming all the gossip was true?
“You should go after him,” she said, still watching Tyler.
“I’m working on it,” I admitted. For some reason, I suddenly wanted to pour my heart out to Emily. “I’m hoping I’ll get to hang out with him during rehearsals, and then maybe we’ll go out or something, and then . . .”
Did I dare say it out loud?
“What?”
“I’ve been secretly fantasizing that he’ll ask me to the prom,” I whispered, leaning close to her to make sure no one else would hear.
“That would definitely be cool,” she said. “He seems like your type.”
I turned to eye her. “Just what do you think my type is?”
“Nice,” she said. “And confident, like you.”
“What about you?” I said. “Are you going to the prom?”
“Oh God, I’d love to,” she whispered. “I’ve never gone. But I’m not counting on it.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “Guys aren’t into me,” she said matter-offactly.
“They should be,” I said, and I meant it. “You’re really pretty, and you look amazing when your face lights up. Guys just need to get to know you. You should . . . I don’t know . . . work on it. Maybe highlight your hair or something?”
I was trying to be tactful. Totally change your hair, try wearing some makeup, and do a massive makeover on that baggy wardrobe was what I was really thinking.
She had tons of potential. She just needed someone to help her pull it out.
“Do you think?” Her voice was really tiny. She looked over at me in the dark, waiting for my pronouncement. “I mean, would highlights make that much of a difference?”
“Let’s go shopping sometime and see what we can do,” I said. “I’ll help you pick out a killer outfit and show you what color highlights would work. But the real question is: who are you going to use it on? I mean, if you could pick any guy to go to the prom with—other than Tyler, of course, don’t even think about going after him—who would it be?”
“I can’t think of anyone,” she said.
Just then, David poked his head through the stage curtains. I guess he was trying to see what was going on out front.
“What about him?” I said, pleased as punch with my big bright idea.
“Who?” She had no idea who I was talking about.
“David.” I pointed in the dark toward the stage. “He’s nice . . .”
“He’s obviously in love with you,” she cut me off. “I saw him on Friday, stalking you backstage. He’s been in love with you since economics.”
This girl notices everything.
“Okay, well, anyway. We’ll have to think of someone.” She didn’t answer. I think she figured that getting a date for the prom was pretty much hopeless.
On the stage, Stella Macaffrey was doing some really cool stuff with the Hot Box girls, but the rest of the auditorium was in chaos. Most of the cast members were just hanging out, goofing off, or having fun with it. I saw Jacob and Becca read through a few lines from the script and then laugh and start playing around, making up their own dialogue.
Tyler and Natalie were off in their own corner, too far away for me to hear. From the looks of it, though, they weren’t really working on lines. More like having a private conversation. She had her megawatt smile turned on and was staring up at him like he was a rock star or something. I couldn’t see his face, as he had his back to me. Damn.
“You realize we’ve been talking so much, I haven’t heard a word of the rehearsal or gotten a single idea for costumes,” I said.
“So what? That just gives you an excuse to hang out at rehearsal again tomorrow,” Emily said, shooting me a knowing grin.
Yeah. More Tyler time. Was I complaining?
Finally Mr. Richards called it quits. “Okay, people, we aren’t making much progress here. Main cast, I want you all to learn your first scene by heart for tomorrow, so you can go off book for at least one scene. Chorus girls, come in here ready to sing ‘Bushel and a Peck’ without lead sheets. Chorus boys, I want you ready to sing ‘Guys and Dolls.’ Okay—that’s it for today, but tomorrow we’ve got to buckle down and really get to work.”
I stood up and tried to think of some excuse to walk past Tyler, who was still up front talking to Natalie.
“Um, you want me to put that hat in the costume trunk?” I offered, picking up the blue pillbox hat Emily had bought.
“Oh, I can do it,” she said.
“I don’t mind.” I practically grabbed it from her. “I want to see what else is in those trunks anyway.”
“Whatever,” she said. “I’ll put the drum in the props closet.”
She got up and took the most unobtrusive path she could find, slipping down the side aisle toward the door that led backstage. I marched straight down the center aisle so I’d have to cross in front of Tyler on my way.
“Hey,” he said as soon as he saw me, turning away from Natalie, who didn’t budge. He noticed the tiny hat in my hands. “Nice hat.”
“It’s for you,” I joked. “I thought Sky Masterson could use a nice little pillbox to bring out his softer side.”
Tyler laughed, but I glanced at Natalie, and the chill coming off her glare was so cold, it could have given me frostbite. “So you want to go out for coffee?” he said. “I mean, maybe we need to discuss my costume in a little more detail.”
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br /> “Sure!” I jumped at the invitation. “But don’t think I’m going to change my mind about the hat,” I teased. “My costume design integrity is worth a lot more than a mocha latte.”
“Not even if I throw in whipped cream?” he flirted.
Natalie put her foot down at that. “Tyler, I hope you’re not talking about going out now. I thought we were going to keep working and run lines together.”
Tyler looked trapped, like he didn’t know what to say. “Um, I think Mr. Richards is kicking us out of here,” he said, meaning the school would be closing up. What were they supposed to do?
“Yeah, but we could go out for coffee. We could work on our scene at Murphy’s,” she said, naming the best coffee place in town. She softened her voice a little, so she wouldn’t sound like such a demanding bitch. “I mean, I just don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of everyone tomorrow . . .”
What could he say? He wasn’t going to let his costar down.
“Okay.” He turned to me. “Rain check?”
“Whatever.” I shrugged.
“Promise?” He reached out and tugged on my sleeve. “Tomorrow after rehearsal, okay? We’ll get coffee?”
I smiled. “Okay.”
He looked at the blue pillbox hat in my hands again. “And don’t make any hasty decisions about my costume until I have a chance to ply you with a double mocha, extra whipped cream, and all the scones you can eat.”
“Okay,” I laughed.
Natalie glared at me, and I had to work very, very hard to suppress a triumphant smile.
I should get three Oscars. I mean, seriously.
Chapter 10
“So you want your usual?” the girl behind the counter at Murphy’s asked Tyler when he and I showed up for coffee the next afternoon.
She raised an eyebrow, her eyes darting back and forth from him to me.
Yeah, yeah, I get the point. He was in here yesterday with a different girl. Natalie. So what?
“Yeah.” Tyler laughed at her, like she couldn’t push his buttons no matter how hard she tried. “Call me crazy, but I can actually drink a straight black house blend two days in a row.”
I tossed my hair over my shoulders and stood extra tall—which for me was just barely tall enough to be seen over the counter. I wanted this evil spawn barista to see how hot I looked in my tight little gray V-neck sweater and burgundy corduroy pants.
“Same for me,” I said.
“Whoa! What about the whipped cream I promised you?” Tyler said.
“I’m immune to your bribes,” I said. “Or let’s say you’re going to have to do better than that.”
At least I hadn’t forgotten how to flirt.
“Hmmm,” he said, pretending to consider my offer. He stroked his chin dramatically. “I wonder what, exactly, Carmen Salgado would succumb to? No—don’t tell me! Let me guess.”
“Your coffee’s ready,” the barista interrupted.
We grabbed our coffees and found a place to sit in one of the old, overstuffed sofas that filled the corners of Murphy’s. I loved the place, I had to admit. There were bookshelves all around the walls filled with books you could read if you wanted to but no one ever did and tons of board games: checkers, Scrabble, Candyland, Parcheesi. I had always wanted to sit on one of the comfy couches, drinking coffee with someone and taking a game of Candyland way too seriously. Someone other than Rachel or Ariel, I mean.
But right now, I was having too much fun just talking to Tyler. I didn’t even glance at the board game shelf.
“So go ahead and guess,” I said. “What do you think you could actually bribe me with? And what are you trying to bribe me to do, anyway?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m hoping you were kidding about that pillbox hat.”
“Ah. Well, I’ll think about it,” I said playfully.
I waited while he sipped his coffee and pondered the question.
“Okay, my guess is that you’re a total iTunes freak, you download tons of indie rock songs every week, and you’d kill for a free account,” he said.
“Wow!” I was blown away. “That’s close. I’m actually into world music, too—anything with a salsa beat, or an African beat. But I love indie rock. How’d you guess?”
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I was just hoping, because that’s my thing. I love Belle and Sebastian.”
“Oh, they’re awesome,” I agreed. “And what about the Magnetic Fields?”
“Oh, yeah, for sure. 69 Love Songs? Amazing.”
“But, no, you couldn’t bribe me with a free iTunes account,” I said. “That wouldn’t do it. Keep trying.”
“How about a gift certificate to Anthropologie?”
“My favorite store! How do you even know that?”
Now I was impressed. I mean, I loved Anthropologie’s stuff, and I’d ordered from their catalog a bunch of times. But the nearest store was in Columbus, more than a one hundred miles away. How did he even know what it was?
“I’ll never tell.”
“Come on! You’re freaking me out!” I said, my mouth hanging open.
Tyler laughed and brushed his sandy hair away from his face. “I heard Becca saying she thought that thing you wore the other day was from their catalog,” he confessed.
“The shrug?” I said.
“Yeah, that thing. Whatever a shrug is.”
Guys.
“Hmph. Well, she’s right. It was, and I love their clothes. But nope—you couldn’t bribe me with something so basic and crass and material as a gift certificate.” I paused. “How much is it for, by the way?”
He laughed and changed the subject. “Have you ever thought about auditioning for American Idol or that new wannabe show, American Superstar?”
I cocked my head. “Are you mocking me? Because you know I seriously messed up my audition the other day.”
“No, I’m serious. I think you’re hot. You’d be great on television.”
He thinks I’m hot! I took a minute to process that, and I tried to keep my head in the conversation.
“Yeah, I thought about it a year ago when American Idol came to Cleveland, but my mom wouldn’t drive me,” I said.
“So do you want to go?”
“Go where?”
“To Cleveland. For the auditions. Didn’t you see it in the paper?”
I shook my head.
“American Superstar is holding auditions in Cleveland in two weeks. A bunch of the cast are going. It should be wild, you know? Mini road trip. Anyway, I was hoping you’d come.”
“Are you serious?” I was so surprised. How come I’d missed this? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I never picked up a newspaper, unless I needed something to put on the floor in the studio when I was cutting my hair or doing an art project.
“It’ll be cool,” he said.
Uh, yeahhhh. Understatement.
I could see us now: me and Tyler and Ariel and a bunch of other people from the cast—hopefully Natalie would get the flu that day and be stuck in bed—all camped out in a huge football stadium or something, sleeping on the floor and waiting for our turns to audition. Maybe I could even talk Emily into coming along, just so there’d be more people on my team in case Natalie showed up ready to bitch-slap me into letting her have Tyler all to herself.
“I’d love to!” I said, beaming at him, staring into his eyes.
Did I mention that he has the most incredible coffee-colored eyes I’ve ever seen?
“Great,” he said.
“I’ll ask Emily if she wants to come, too. She’s shy, but boy can she belt a song.”
He sort of frowned. “Don’t invite too many people. I mean, it’ll be more fun if we have time to hang out alone, don’t you think?”
Uh, yeahhhh.
After that, we just talked about school, mostly, and he asked me how Norton was different from Woodward Baines. He was so easy to talk to, I had no idea it was getting late. All at once his cell phone rang. It was his mom, aski
ng him why he wasn’t home yet for dinner, and by the way, there wasn’t any dinner, so could he pick up a pizza on his way home.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he walked me out to the parking lot.
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say. Was this a date? Should I dare hope that he’d say he’d call me? Or try to kiss me good-bye?
Or was it just coffee between two theater friends?
I clicked my car locks open with the remote just as he reached in front of me to open my car door. His arm brushed my stomach accidentally as he did.
I felt a chill, and I had to use all my willpower to keep from leaning against him.
Honestly, I’m not a slut. I’m not! More like a horny virgin.
“Thanks.” I slid into the driver’s seat and rolled down the window.
He turned to walk toward his car but called over his shoulder, “I’m still thinking.”
“About what?” I called.
“About what I could use to bribe you,” he called, totally flirting again.
Hmmm. I still didn’t know what he wanted to bribe me to do . . . but the price was rapidly coming down.
I popped in a CD of 69 Love Songs and listened to it, bouncing my head and singing along all the way home. I hadn’t been in such a good mood since . . . When? Last summer?
I guess that’s why I wasn’t ready for what hit me the minute I walked into my room and turned on my computer.
There was an e-mail from some address I didn’t recognize, sent to a long list of names. Normally, I wouldn’t have opened it, but the subject line grabbed my attention. It said: JOIN THE HOT BOX CLUB.
Oh, no, I thought. Now what?
I opened the e-mail and had to wait while the photo unfurled.
It was a picture of me. Me! And not from last year’s yearbook, either.
A picture of me at the auditions last week. In my sexy vintage dress.
Someone had added text in a large font, splashed across my picture. It said: “I’m in the Hot Box Club. Don’t you want to come in, too?”
Oh. My. God.