by Dawn Klehr
“I have something for you,” she says, reaching for my hand. She drops one of her bracelets in my palm. “It’s for luck.”
“Cool, thanks,” I say, touched.
“Knock ’em dead, Riley.”
I clench the bracelet in my hand and smile.
She stops before heading to the back. “Oh, by the way, did Dez find your necklace?”
“Necklace?”
“Yeah. He was here earlier looking for it. Did he find it?”
Before I can answer, Homer interrupts us.
“Riley, I need you over here for a minute.”
I run through my monologue with Homer, but I can’t concentrate. Dez is still a no-show.
“He’ll be here, Riley,” Homer says. “Let’s just get you through your scene.”
He works with me in a small room down the hall from the auditorium. I wait until the last possible minute to get dressed. I picked out a tasteful white blouse and black pants, and I don’t want to stain it with the sweat that’s been secreting from my body for the last hour.
When I can’t wait any longer, I go to the dressing room. There’s still no sign of Dez.
DEZ
By the time I get to the auditorium, people are starting to file in. Homer grabs me like I’m his long lost son. Then he shakes me when he realizes that I’m okay.
“I don’t even want to know,” he snaps before pushing me toward the auditorium.
Moments later, I sit with the others and watch the auditions.
Except, unlike the others, I wait.
For disaster.
RILEY
In the dressing room, I put on my clothes while trying to do the breathing exercises Stella taught me. I must be in the zone because I don’t hear any of the commotion until Stella’s face is directly in front of mine.
“Where’ve you been?” she screams.
DEZ
INT. HIGH SCHOOL AUDITORIUM—EVENING
Slow motion—Riley on stage
RILEY is shaky when she comes out on stage. Each step is labored. The camera tightens on parts of her body: her chest heaving; her hands fidgeting; her eyes darting around the room.
DESMOND grips his chair so tight, his knuckles turn white.
Riley’s not at the top of her game like she wanted to be, but so far, I might be the only one to notice. She finds my face in the audience and gives me a questioning glance. Where were you? she asks with her eyes.
I look away.
Forget the butterflies; I have ugly, angry crows flapping away in my gut. Chewing on my insides trying to escape. I’m afraid for Riley.
Suddenly, I want to stop the audition. I want to take back everything I’ve done. What was I thinking? I am the world’s biggest asshole.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. It’s too late to do anything.
The spotlight shines on Riley.
“The Idle Man,” she says, then immediately looks down. That’s when I notice her first slip. She got the line wrong. She catches herself and tries again. “The Ideal Man,” she says in a small voice. It’s not enough for anyone in the audience to really notice, but there’s no doubt the Guthrie scout caught the mistake. Plus, he’s already pissed she was late.
At this point, Riley’s supposed to strut downstage, but her strut looks more like a limp.
I’m so nervous, I might pass out.
“Oh, the Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children.” She continues the monologue, but she’s only going through the motions. Her voice is flat; there’s no emotion.
And then, as she moves, her clothes literally start coming apart at the seams. She walks around the stage slowly and clumsily, like she’s bracing for a fall. She struggles to keep going.
It’s uncomfortable to watch.
When I see her wrestle with her pants and boot, I have to look away. There’s a gap in the waistband of her pants and she’s trying to keep them up with alternating hands. Meanwhile, the heel on her boot is bent, hanging on by one skinny nail.
People are frozen, watching. Stella has come out to the audience, and her face is one of horror. I act concerned as people give me looks, but all I’m thinking about is the greater good: Riley’s future perfect audition for Tisch and our lives in New York City—as they are meant to be. Someday the two of us will laugh about this night.
It’s the only thing that keeps me going.
RILEY
It’s a long walk of shame out of the audition. I get a few pats on the back, a ton of stares, and a smirk from Tori. She tells me told ya so with her eyes. I sneak into a quiet classroom to hide. I have thirty minutes before the screenings start.
I just don’t understand how so many things could go wrong in one audition.
Well, Guthrie is out of the picture now, but there might still be a chance with the other schools.
I wish Ms. Dunn was here. She’d know what to do.
I’m such an idiot. This is what got me into this position in the first place. My obsession with Ms. Dunn and playing detective like I could make a difference. It’s been nothing but a distraction, and all I’ve managed to do is screw everything up.
And piss Will off.
God, where is he?
When I finally get up the courage to leave the room, I see Dez outside the auditorium and run to him.
He grabs me and holds on tight.
I’m safe … for now.
“I’m so sorry, Rye,” he says. “But you have plenty of other options.”
“Tisch and Columbia, here we come.” I squeeze back.
“That’s right. You’re too good for Guthrie anyway.” He puts his arm around me. “Come on. It’s almost time for the screenings.”
This should be the greatest moment. Dez and I take our seats with the cast. The others try not to meet my eyes. Homer stands up at the front of the auditorium and thanks the organizers of the festival and the schools for their support.
“Now, without further ado,” he says, “let’s take a look at one of the films from this year’s host school, my school, the Heights. This is Alternate Realities by Desmond Brandt.”
I try to stay positive for Dez. This is his big moment. I smile at him and he puts my hand to his lips. It’s work to concentrate when the film starts. My mind is racing.
Then it starts to really hit me. Dez’s words echo in my head.
You belong in New York, Riley.
Why are you even bothering with Guthrie?
Don’t waste your time on Guthrie.
The lights go up and the applause snaps me back. The audience is going crazy. Dez stands up with a quick wave and shy smile and Homer takes the stage again.
“The next nominated film is from Madison, Wisconsin. Please give a round of applause for Misguided Youth by Cody Miller.”
The lights dim again. The various stories take up the screen, but I don’t process any of them.
I don’t like the way things are stacking up. Libby’s accusations, even Stella’s question: Did Dez find your necklace? He was here.
I now remember seeing Dez’s camera bag backstage, before the festival.
Maybe he has been lying to me.
The lights go up and I race out of the auditorium. We don’t have to be back here until the awards ceremony in the morning.
Dez chases me.
“Oh my God, oh my God.” The realization is coming down on me all at once. “What did you do tonight, Dez?”
“What do you mean?” He looks panicked.
“What necklace were you looking for?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You told Stella you were looking for my necklace. You were late. And you gave me the wrong time for my audition! What did you do, Dez?”
I don’t like this. I
don’t like it one bit.
“Calm down, Riley.” Dez holds up his hands. “It’s not what you think.”
I tremble.
“I know it looks bad,” he says. “But I did it for you. All of it.”
All of it? You ruined my clothes and shoes, too?
“You fucked up my entire audition!” I yell. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Riley, you should be concentrating on Tisch, not Guthrie. Can we just get out of here? Go talk?”
I can’t believe my ears. I feel so exposed. Naked. My heart hurts so much I can barely speak. “That wasn’t for you to decide, Dez. Who the hell do you think you are?”
I’m too shocked to move or cry or yell or hit or break something. But I want to. In my head, I’m beating on his chest. I’m screaming. I’m bawling my eyes out.
By this time, a crowd is surrounding us. I see Stella out of the corner of my eye, trying to shoo them away.
Dez moves in again. “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” he says urgently. “Let me explain. Please. I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
There’s only one thing to do.
I walk right past him. Right up to Stella. “Think you could give me a ride?” I ask.
Her eyes are warm when she nods. “’Course.” She flings her arm around me. “Let’s get you out of here.”
DEZ
“This is a chemical burn.”
That’s what Tyler Durden says in Fight Club as he pours lye on the narrator’s hand. It’s this deeply disturbing part in the movie when Tyler says that without pain and sacrifice, we would have nothing. It’s something I used to believe. Something I now think is complete bullshit. Meanwhile, the narrator’s skin melts right off the bone. Tyler Durden calls it premature enlightenment. He waits until the narrator can’t take it anymore. Then he douses his hand with vinegar to neutralize the burn.
After Riley leaves with Stella, I wonder who will neutralize my burn. Everyone is glaring in my direction—everyone but Tori. She smirks and gives me a fake sympathy pat on the shoulder. Our cast and crew heard the whole thing. I can feel their contempt, disgust, anger, even pity, as well as the silent insults they’re all hurling at me. One after another. As I walk to the guys’ dressing room, everyone looks away and whispers. Even Jonah shakes his head at me.
I am officially scum. Worse than the dog crap you scrape off your shoe.
And I’ve hurt Riley.
I stomp out to the parking lot, open the car door, smash the flowers I got for Rye, and head home in silence.
She’s gone.
This is my chemical burn.
There’s only one way to salvage the mess I made, so I pick up the phone and make the call.
RILEY
Stella drives me home while I sit in shock. It’s too much to process. I can actually feel my heart splitting wide open. The one person I loved and trusted the most has hurt me in the worst way.
Just breathe.
It’s all I can do at the moment. Focus on the smallest of things. I’m suddenly so exhausted, I just want to sleep. To lose myself in my dreams. The pain is too much to take.
We pull up my driveway.
Stella puts her hand on my thigh but I can’t feel it. It’s like I’m not even in my own body.
“Do you want me to come in and sit with you for a while?” she asks in her soft voice.
I shake my head. “You’ve done so much already.” I’m so thankful to her for getting me out of there. “I’m just going to go to sleep. It’s been a shitty night.”
She pats my leg. “Okay. But you can call me. Anytime.”
I feel the tears prick my eyes, so I rush out of the car and give Stella a quick wave.
She jumps out after me.
“Oh, Rye,” she calls out. “I got Will’s records for you. Everyone was distracted, so I took the chance. I know this isn’t a great time, but I thought you’d want them right away.”
I turn around, take the paper, and shove it in my jacket.
DEZ
You would think that I would’ve tried harder to fight for my innocence and hold on to my lies when things went down that day. But when Riley looked into my eyes and demanded the truth, I guess I just couldn’t fight against it anymore.
Looking back, I can see how messed up I was, but I wasn’t so far gone that I didn’t at least try to fix it. That was my first priority, I remember that much. My second? Coming clean to my parents. I’d screwed things up to such massive proportions that I couldn’t undo it all on my own.
That night, the night, I sat them down and told them the whole story. Mom and Bernie sat and listened without moving, without saying a word. They just … listened.
They listened to my stories about ruining things with Riley’s girlfriends and boyfriends and how I used Bernie to do it. They listened to my plan to get Riley to mess up during her Guthrie audition.
When I finished, Bernie stood up to talk. But, in a surprise move, Mom raised her hand as if to say I got this. That’s when she finally grew a pair and went all military on my ass. She laid out her own plan—and punishment—and there was no room for argument.
Those demands included: family therapy, a string of apologies, meetings with my guidance counselor, and a two-month grounding.
When she was done giving my sentence, she put her arms around me and said in my ear, “You need to make this right, Desmond.”
RILEY
In the following weeks, I do my best to avoid Dez.
And Will.
Just as I thought it would, the report says Will was absent for three days after Ms. Dunn’s murder.
He was gone the same amount of time after the film festival. And now he only shows up to school a few times a week. Not that I’ve seen him. If I still trusted Dez, I would have him help me talk to Bernie about reopening Ms. Dunn’s case.
I even consider putting in an anonymous tip to the cops. But there’s no way I can do that without getting Libby into trouble.
No, the only person I trust right now is Stella.
Every morning, she checks to see if Will showed up to class and then she texts me. I don’t know which is worse, the days he shows up or the days he’s gone.
I keep my sanity with homework, acting classes, and time at Java. When that isn’t enough, I busy myself with internship applications for the summer and read every screenplay I can get my hands on.
As far as I can tell, Dez doesn’t leave his house except for school. About a week after everything happened, he wrote me a letter. He tried to explain what he did and why. He begged for my forgiveness.
And I couldn’t give it to him.
It didn’t help that Libby wanted to have his balls for breakfast. Over time, she gathered the rest of the nasty details about how Dez had been sabotaging my relationships since sophomore year. Like a good friend, she forgave me for not believing her. And I forgave her, because that girl knows not what she does. Still, I can’t let her in on my suspicions about Will.
As for the film, we won first place. Dez got a boatload of scholarship money. The rest of us made out pretty well too. I’ve used some of my award money to take classes at the Guthrie Theater. Dez and I made nice for the cause; we went through all the social events—the awards committee luncheon, the local newspaper interview, and the photo ops—as a happy team. It should’ve been the time of our lives. It wasn’t.
After all, the one person I trusted more than anyone had somehow become my worst enemy.
But life goes on.
And it’s going on without him.
The weeks roll by, like they do, and before I know it the holidays are upon us. And now I’m the one riddled with guilt. Especially for Mom and Dad. We had to cancel our annual Christmas brunch with Bernie, Trudy, and Dez. My parents understand that I don’t want to see Dez and they’re siding with me, keeping a dis
tance. But I know it’s hurting them.
It’s like my whole family is going through the break-up. We’re all moving a bit slower than normal, our dinners have been quiet, and even the house seems down in the dumps.
“You are our priority,” Dad says to me during dinner when I apologize again for Christmas brunch. “You need to do what’s best for you, Riley. I’m still so mad at that boy. I just wish I could fix it. I wish I could take the pain away.”
But we both know it’s too late for that.
Too late for a lot of things.
Until I get a call from the Admissions office at Guthrie.
DEZ
We decide to have the last film club meeting on the day before the holiday break. The seniors are busy with college interviews and internships and they just want to be done with it. And the sophomores and juniors are anxiously waiting for the changing of the guard.
It’s the end of an era.
By four o’clock, it’s almost dark. The sky is purple as the snow comes down in heavy, wet flakes.
I’m still on the outs with the cast and crew, but it’s my job to announce the director for next year’s film. The seniors huddle in the front of the room and fill out their ballots. Riley won’t even look at me. I’ve heard through the grapevine that she was accepted to Guthrie, early admission, and she’s decided to go. But I checked online, and her audition spot is still open at Tisch. I hold out hope that she’ll decide to go through with that audition. Then at least she’ll have choices.
Stella collects all the ballots in a hat and passes it to me.
“Think she’ll talk to me?” I ask her.
“I don’t think she’s there yet, Dez,” Stella says. I can tell she’s trying to be kind, but she seems genuinely freaked out by me.
Who could blame her.
“I never meant to hurt her,” I say, but whether I’m trying to convince Stella or myself, I’m not sure.