by Shana Norris
Mr. Greeley continued to look at me silently, his serious gaze boring into me. His keys hung from one hand, his fist squeezed tight around them. I understood how Zac felt whenever his dad looked at him, as if he were being examined for imperfections.
But then the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile.
“I think,” Mr. Greeley said, “judging from how often my son mentions your name, he thinks you’re pretty amazing too.”
My breath caught somewhere in my chest and I was unable to respond. Mr. Greeley nodded at me and then got into his car and drove away.
The house behind me was still. I scanned the windows, but Zac was nowhere. I didn’t know if he knew I was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to risk having the door slammed in my face if I tried to talk to him.
So I turned toward his car and lifted one of the windshield wipers. I stuck the carnation in place and then added the little slip of paper I had folded into a neat square.
The note read simply, “Midnight comedy?”
Chapter 29
My shoes scuffed along the concrete floor as I pushed open the door to the Gas ‘N Drive. Jake leaned against the magazine rack behind the counter. I thought he was asleep until he opened his eyes and nodded at me.
“Hey. Avery, right?”
I nodded. “Right.”
He tapped the side of his head. “I never forget a face or a name. You here with Zac?”
When I had slipped out of the darkened house fifteen minutes earlier, driving across town at midnight for a slushie hadn’t seemed the least bit ridiculous. But now the absurdity of my situation struck me. I was in Zac’s gas station, wanting Zac’s drink, talking to Zac’s friend. But without Zac.
“No, it’s just me.” I held out my hands to indicate I was his only offering for company tonight.
This didn’t seem to strike Jake as strange at all. He nodded again. “Cool.”
I headed toward the back of the store before I lost my nerve. A sugar rush was exactly what I needed right now. The machines hummed as usual, swirling red and green and purple icy liquid.
I tried for nearly twenty minutes, but no matter how I mixed the combinations, I couldn’t get the cherry to lime to grape ratio right. It was a skill that apparently only Zac possessed. I stared into my slushie, frowning at the taste that was still slightly off. I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Nothing I tried worked.
Jake leaned against the magazine rack again, his head resting against the glossy cover of Time and his eyes closed. I was about to put the money on the counter and leave him to his nap when I noticed his lips moving.
He must have sensed me standing there because he opened his eyes again. “Studying,” he said in response to my unasked question. He rang up my purchase on the register.
“Zac told me you’re training to be an emergency medical technician,” I said as I handed him the money for the imperfect slushie.
Jake nodded. “I have one more semester to go. It’s been a lot of work, but I’m looking forward to graduating.”
“I’m hoping to become a doctor one day,” I told him. “I haven’t decided what I want to specialize in. Still exploring my options and reading as much as I can about the different areas.”
Jake bobbed his head in his slow nod. “That’s cool. Maybe one day we’ll be working on the same patients.”
“Maybe,” I said, laughing. “I have to get through medical school first. There was this study program I was hoping to do this summer in Costa Rica. But I didn’t save up enough money, so it’ll have to wait another year.”
“Have you checked out the summer programs at the hospital?”
I tilted my head to the side. “The Willowbrook Hospital?”
“The one and only. They have some great programs for high school students. You don’t do much, change sheets and follow doctors around all day, but it at least gives you some immersion into daily life in a medical career. And it’s free, since it’s a volunteer program.”
I hadn’t even considered checking with the local hospital for study programs. All my focus had been on Costa Rica. A grin spread across my face.
“Jake, you are a genius.”
He shrugged, giving me a goofy grin. “Well, I didn’t want to brag or anything...”
When I left the Gas ‘N Drive, I sat down in my car and took a sip of the slushie. Outside, stars twinkled and the red lights of a plane blinked steadily as it moved across the night, high overhead. Only a few cars drove by, rumbling softly before disappearing around the curve in the road. The blue light on my dashboard clock read 12:21 AM. The world felt quiet and still.
My legs squeaked on the plastic seat cover when I shifted a little.
I frowned. Something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t only the bad combination of slushie mixed into my cup.
I climbed out of the car and reached down to peel the plastic off the seat. Then I opened the other doors and peeled the plastic off all the seats one by one. I balled the covers up and stuffed them into the trunk.
Anyone watching would probably think I’d lost my mind. Panic swept through me at the thought of what I’d done. I risked ruining the car I had taken so much care of and kept as perfect as it could be. One spill would destroy all of that.
But then I giggled when I sat back down, rubbing my hands over the soft cloth of the interior. I had forgotten what the seats felt like under the plastic. Taking the covers off felt rebellious, fighting back against the voice in my head that told me I’d spill my slushie and the stain would never come out.
A flood of exhilaration worked its way through me, tingling in my fingers and toes. I felt as if I could take on the world.
I needed to hold onto that feeling for what I was about to do next.
* * *
The comedy show had already started by the time I reached the Rose Castle. I sat outside in the parking lot for several minutes, reciting my hand bone mantra to help settle my nerves.
I could do this. Mr. Throckmorton would probably kill me for it and most certainly would fire me, but it would be okay. Sometimes the risks were worth the payoff, right?
I slipped into the diner without drawing much attention to myself, despite the big bag I carried over one shoulder. Elliott had helped me sneak it out of Diggity Dog House after my shift earlier in the night. A young woman was on stage, telling some joke about her ex-boyfriend. I scanned the crowd, but I didn’t see Zac anywhere. Sweat broke out along my forehead. What if he wasn’t here? Had he chosen this one night not to come for the comedy show?
Staying close to the wall, I made my way over to the person who looked to be in charge. “I’d like to add my name to the list of performers,” I told him.
The man eyed me under his thick, bushy eyebrows. His head was bald in contrast to the vast amount of hair on his forehead, making him look a little funny.
“You ever performed before?”
I shook my head. “First time.”
He checked his list for a moment. “You can go on in fifteen, I have an opening there.”
“Okay.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Could you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”
He pointed to a vague area over my shoulder before turning away. I made my way through the tables, accidentally bumping a couple of people with my bag.
After chanting a repeated series of “Sorry, sorry” I found my way to the restroom and pushed open the door. The sounds of the rest of the diner were muffled in the bathroom.
I leaned against the sink and staring at my reflection in the spotty mirror. My hair had half-fallen out of the ponytail I’d pulled it into and my cheeks were flushed. My eyes definitely displayed the wild appearance of the early stages of a panic attack. I splashed some cold water on my face, telling myself everything would be fine. If Zac wasn’t here tonight, I’d come back every night until he was. I had tried apologizing. This was my last hope.
A toilet flushed and I stepped out of the way for the woman who emerged from a stall to
wash her hands.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted me in her chirpy voice.
I looked up to find an older woman with wild, curly blonde hair grinning wide at me. The smell of peppermint arrived with her and she wore a bright blue shirt with the words “ZAC PACK” emblazoned across the front.
“I’m Ally,” she reminded me as she washed her hands. “You’re Zac’s friend, right?”
I nodded, smiling at her despite the fact that I felt certain I was about to be sick. “Right. Avery. Nice to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you.” She enveloped me in a tight hug, once again breaching my personal space without a second thought, as if she went around hugging everyone so easily all the time.
Maybe she did.
“Do you know if Zac is here?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “Haven’t seen him. But the night is still young. He could show up later.”
I groaned. “I’m on in about twelve minutes, so I hope he gets here soon.”
Ally’s eyes widened and she let out a shriek. “You’re performing? You go, girl!”
I laughed at her excitement. “Don’t cheer yet. You haven’t seen my act. I might be horrible.”
“As long as you make the audience laugh, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.” She clapped her hands. “I can’t wait. I’ll be out there front and center.”
She squeezed me into another hug before leaving me alone in the bathroom. I slipped into the stall and locked the door, dropping the bag to the floor.
I leaned my head against the cool metal door and let out a long breath. Had I completely lost my mind? I had no business going on stage at a comedy show.
The last time I was here flashed through my mind. When Zac had called me onstage and everyone had turned to look at me, I felt as if I’d been split wide open and laid out for everyone to criticize.
“The point of comedy is make people look at you,” I reminded myself. “Making them laugh is a good thing.”
Taking another deep breath, I reached down and unzipped the bag.
It felt like hours before I heard the muffled voice of the announcer saying, “And now, some new talent here at the Rose Castle tonight. Appearing for the first time onstage, please welcome Avery James!”
I had stayed in the bathroom during the wait, but now I pulled the door open, propped it with one foot as I shoved my hand back into my white puffy glove, and then made my way into the dining room.
The faces of the audience all turned as one toward me.
And then they laughed.
Making my way toward the stage dressed as Bob the giant hot dog and carrying my portable CD player proved to be a little difficult. I stumbled and bumped into a few tables and chairs before an old man took pity on me and helped me ease myself up the few steps to the stage.
“Hello, everyone,” I said into the microphone, jumping at how loud my voice sounded in the dimly lit room. “How are you all doing tonight? I’m doing really good today. I’m doing these daily affirmations each morning. It’s very important to start the day off on an optimistic note. So I look in the mirror and tell myself, ‘Go out there and face the world, Avery. You can do it. You’re the best. You’re a wiener!’”
Seeing the audience through the mesh screen over my face was almost impossible. But I could hear their laughter just fine. It sounded polite, but I had never expected to win them over with my jokes.
“But the thing that really helps me is this trick I learned from a good friend of mine,” I continued. “He has dance parties for no reason at all. Even when there’s no music, he dances because he feels like it. And we had a bet that if we made an A on our school project, I’d dance for him. So what better way to celebrate than shaking my bun around onstage?”
Several people cheered me on as I set the CD player on the floor and then took the microphone off the stand, setting it near the speaker so the audience could hear the music.
When “Who Let the Dogs Out?” blasted through the diner from my little stereo, I didn’t pause to think. I didn’t worry about what anyone else thought either. It didn’t matter if I was perfect or not, it only mattered that I made the audience laugh.
So I danced every dance I knew. The Hot Diggity Shuffle. The Running Man. The Twist. Cabbage Patch. Even a few moves that would never have been called dancing. I let the music take over, guiding me into chaotic movements across the stage.
And the audience loved it. Their cheers and laughs drowned out the song so I didn’t know if I was even still dancing to music at all anymore. Most of them stood up and danced along with me at their seats.
When I finally stopped, breathless and sweating, I threw back my head, laughing inside the hot dog costume. I finally felt free of myself, of every rule and total order I’d ever placed on my actions. I felt like the girl I had once been, back before I’d been damaged by life, reemerging from the walls I’d been trapped behind all these years.
“A-ver-y! A-ver-y!” the audience chanted my name, begging for an encore. I waved as I made my way offstage. As exhilarating as it was, once was enough for my first time.
I slipped out the front door of the diner after a long journey through the audience. Everyone wanted to stop and shake my hand or pat my bun, telling me how great I was. Ally promised to change her shirt to say “AVERY & ZAC PACK.”
Once I was outside, I peeled the costume down enough to let my upper body free of the sweltering heat inside. I paused, closing my eyes and sucking in the fresh night air. It had finally cooled, the record heat wave breaking at last before summer officially began.
“I have to say,” said a voice nearby, “those were some very impressive moves.”
I opened my eyes and there he was, leaning against the hood of my car, his arms crossed over his chest.
I was almost too afraid to breathe, worried I might break the spell and he would vanish into the night.
But when I blinked, he was still there.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” Zac answered.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“And miss out on watching you shake your bun? A million rabid Zac Pack fans couldn’t keep me away.” He smiled, but it was a reserved smile, as if underneath the joking demeanor he was still a bit afraid of what was happening between us.
I grinned, trying to push back my own nervousness. “Better watch out. I might be stealing your Zac Pack for my own Avery Army.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Want to have a dance-off to see who wins? You may have some moves, but I’ve got style.” He did a short moonwalk across the gravel parking lot and then turned, moonwalking back to me.
I laughed and so did he, and for a moment the only sound was the muffled laughter and applause drifting from the diner and our own laughter in the quiet night.
Then my smile faded and I looked at him, hoping this time he wouldn’t walk away.
“I’m so sorry for everything I did. I was stupid and messed everything up. I really, truly never meant to hurt you.” I was rambling, unable to control the words coming out of my mouth, but it was important he understand how terribly I felt about what had happened. “I didn’t think about anyone except myself at first, but then as time went on and I got to know you, I realized how wrong I was. I never expected to feel the way I do about you. I didn’t take the money. I gave it back.”
Zac dug his hands into his pockets. I couldn’t read anything from his neutral expression. “What about Costa Rica?”
“I’ll have to wait another year, but it will be okay. Costa Rica will still be there and I’ll have the entire summer to save up the rest of the money. I couldn’t go with Hannah’s money, not after it cost me you. This whole thing was a huge mistake.”
“Some good did come out of it,” Zac said, shuffling one foot along the rocks in the parking lot. “We had a deal, after all. If we made an A on the project, you’d dance and I would talk to my dad.”
My eyes widened. “You told him about
the comedy show?”
Zac nodded. “I told him yesterday. He didn’t take it as well as I’d hoped, but at least he didn’t threaten to lock me in his store and force me to like it. Then today he seemed to accept it a bit better. He mentioned coming to see me perform sometime. So I’d say that’s a little bit of progress.”
Maybe what I’d said to Mr. Greeley had done some good. “He’ll come around one day,” I said, hoping it was true. Zac’s face shone when he was happy. He needed to be onstage performing for people.
“It was a pretty crappy thing you did,” he told me, not meeting my gaze. “I couldn’t believe all this time you were spending time with me because Hannah had paid you to.”
The hurt in his voice made my chest ache. “It wasn’t the only reason I spent time with you.”
When he didn’t say anything, I sighed. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend thief anyway, if that makes it any better. I’m terrible at flirting and have no idea how to win a guy over.”
“Actually,” Zac said, “I think you were pretty great at it.”
He looked at me through the fringe of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes, his head still bent, and a slow smile spread across his face.
There went my heart, plummeting into the bottom of my bun.
“Really?” I tapped my finger against my chin. “I was thinking of retiring as a professional boyfriend thief, but if I’m good at it, maybe I should keep up the job?”
Zac grabbed my wrists and pulled me toward him, crushing the foam hot dog between us. “Don’t steal anymore hearts,” he told me. “You’ve already got mine.”
He kissed me, his lips warm and soft against my own. His fingers tangled in my hair, pressing me closer to him.
When we finally came up for air, my lungs feeling as if they were about to burst, I said, “I thought we weren’t a good match. A to Z Love Matches didn’t calculate us to work together.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in matchmaking.”
“A good businesswoman should have confidence in her product.”