by Deb Loughead
On Thursday after school, everybody who was trying out for a part in the play got to sit in the audience and watch their rivals perform. Friends came along, too, to cheer the actors on.
My audition for Ophelia was the last one of three. Madeline and Taylor were ahead of me. They were both pretty good actors. I had my fingers crossed that my audition would be better than theirs. And as excited as I was, it was hard to ignore the feeling of guilt that kept poking at me like a knobby elbow.
I knew perfectly well that Ophelia was the role Lucy was planning to try out for. But she wasn’t here. She was lying in a hospital bed across town, hooked up to all sorts of beeping machines. I could hear the whispers all around me from the other actors. Everyone was certain that if Lucy were here, she would ace the audition. And she would totally get the part of Ophelia too. Alice’s voice was the loudest, of course. I was positive that she wanted me to hear her too.
“Poor Lucy,” Alice practically yelled. “Too bad she couldn’t be here today. She would have done an amazing job! I helped her to rehearse. Before her accident.” When I glanced over, she was leering at me. I quickly looked away.
Madeline did a great job. And wouldn’t you know it, she used the exact same speech as I did for her audition. Everyone clapped when she was finished too. Argh! I guess I wasn’t so clever after all.
When Taylor’s turn came, she tripped over her words a few times. Alice laughed and whispered to the kids she was sitting with every time Taylor blew a line. And my turn was coming up next. Gulp.
Sitting there beside Seema, who’d come along to watch, my stomach churned. I felt a wave of heat spreading from head to toe, like I’d stepped into a sauna. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or guilt. Why did I feel guilty anyway? The fact that Lucy wasn’t here had absolutely no connection to me at all. Did it? I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me the whole time I was sitting there. But whenever I turned my head to check, it wasn’t true. Nobody was looking at me. I was paranoid just the same.
And that’s why I bolted—just before they called my name to try out for the part of Ophelia. Because I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t try out for the part that Lucy deserved to get. It didn’t feel right.
I stood in the hallway alone for a while, trying to catch my breath. I wondered if I was totally losing my mind. I closed my eyes and leaned my cheek against the cool wall outside the auditorium. I breathed deeply. I sighed. I tried to muster up the guts to walk back inside and wait for my turn. Then I decided that I might as well try out for the role of Queen Gertrude or even Rosencrantz or Guildenstern instead. Eyes squeezed shut, I tried to get into character and focus on my lines. I ran through them quickly in my head. Then I heard someone sidle up beside me.
When I opened my eyes, Eric was standing there. He had his own cheek pressed against the wall. He was staring at me. He had a smug grin on his face.
“Can I kiss you?” he said.
“What?” My heart fluttered like a dizzy moth.
“You heard me. Let me kiss you, Claire. Like right now. I’ve been wanting to since we talked the other day.”
“Shut up. You have not,” I said. “You lie, Eric.”
Why did I say that? Hadn’t I been dreaming about this moment since the start of school this year? What is wrong with you, Claire? This was the guy who made my limbs turn to jelly. The guy I had sweet fantasies about. But for some reason, even though my whole body was saying YES to his odd request, an unfamiliar voice in my head was screaming NO!
“Uh, I don’t think so,” I said, backing away. “I’ve got to get back inside for the auditions. Aren’t you trying out for a part in this play?”
“Nah,” he said. “I hate Shakespeare. Let me kiss you, Claire. Come on.”
Why were the hallways so empty? Where was everybody? Usually the halls were busy as an anthill after school. So many kids were around for clubs and sports teams. But not right now, when Eric was acting all sketchy and freaking me out. And—I couldn’t believe I was even thinking it—reminding me of my dad! Ugh!
“Um, look, Eric, I’ve gotta go. Like right now.”
Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and planted a wet mushy one right on my lips. There was way too much tongue involved. And for some wild reason, all I could think of at that moment, the one I’d been dreaming about for so long, was my mom and dad making out on the sofa! Gross!
I shoved him away from me. “Stop it, will you! What are you doing?”
“Kissing you, Claire. I know you want me to,” he said.
“Oh god! That wasn’t a kiss, Eric. That was a wet suction cup on my face! And it was totally gross! What is the matter with you?” He reached out and tried to hug me as I slipped away. I couldn’t believe it! I gave him another shove, just to make it perfectly clear.
Then I spun around, flung open the auditorium door and stepped inside. I wished Eric’s sloppy tongue would get caught in the door as I yanked it shut behind me.
“Claire? Claire Watkins?” the drama teacher called. “On stage right now, please. Your turn to audition for Ophelia.”
“I changed my mind, Miss Wilding,” I called out as I hurried into the darkness. “I want to try out for Queen Gertrude instead.”
Yikes!
chapter seven
I had to use my Ophelia monologue when I tried out for the part of Gertrude because that was the only part I knew. I put as much emotion into it as I could. It wasn’t too tough at that point. Eric’s weirdness had totally creeped me out, and I was starting to think I was going crazy myself. Ophelia’s mad rant wasn’t much of a stretch.
I even sang the parts that Ophelia sings. I just ad-libbed a twisted little tune to go along with the words, “Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny.” And wow. Everyone actually clapped at the end of my audition, just like they did for Madeline. It made me feel good for a change.
“Claire, that was amazing,” Seema said as I slid into the seat beside her to watch the rest of the auditions. “How did you pull that off?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “It just really worked for me today.”
“You’re so getting that part. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Of Queen Gertrude. That would be extremely cool.”
“No. Ophelia. You were the best one. Honest.”
Gulp. “But I don’t want that part,” I hissed. “That should be Lucy’s part.”
“But she’s not here, is she?” Seema said. “Relax, Claire. What’s wrong with you? It’s not your fault what happened to her.”
Then why did I feel to blame? I glanced over at Alice. She was watching me with that “ice princess” expression again. When our eyes met, I shivered and looked away. Alice had tried out for the part of Gertrude too, and she’d done a pretty good job. I figured she should be smiling. But right now, well, if looks could kill...
I made my decision after school. Instead of heading for home, where Mom and Dad would most likely be snuggling and smooching, or fighting, I hopped on the bus and headed for the hospital. I felt the need to see Lucy. I wanted to speak to her, even if she couldn’t hear me.
Lucy and I had never been close. We were just classmates who talked sometimes. I’d only considered her a rival since I’d become fixated on Eric and on the role of Ophelia. And now I couldn’t stop thinking about her lying in that hospital bed on the verge of death. Her poor family must be feeling awful. And somehow, in some warped way, I felt responsible.
That stupid, stupid umbrella. It was like a curse. The minute I’d touched it and been struck by lightning, my life, and so many others’, had changed directions. I’d been trying so hard to convince myself that none of it was my fault, that the lightning hadn’t triggered the changes. But it wasn’t working anymore. Everything was different, some of it good and some of it bad. And every bit of it was completely confusing. I desperately wanted to at least get my own life back on track! No wonder somebody else had pitched that umbrella in the trash! I wondered if their life was screwed up the
way mine was now.
I’ve never liked hospitals. The antiseptic smells, the hushed worried voices. Every corner you turn, you see somebody connected to an iv, shuffling along the hallway looking like they’re on the brink of death. Everyone looks sad and defeated. Ugh. That’s why it was so hard to walk through those sliding doors. That, and knowing what I had to face when I got to Lucy’s room.
A total nightmare!
In the gift shop I bought a tiny stuffed teddy bear to give to Lucy. It was hand-knit by someone, from the look of it. But it was cute and not expensive. The woman at the information counter directed me to the ICU up on the third floor. ICU . Intensive Care Unit. Where very sick people went. To recover, or not. Cripes!
I crept along the hallway like I was in a funeral procession. I kept my eyes straight ahead, fearing what I might see if I looked into one of those sad rooms. At the nursing station on the third floor I could barely look the nurse in the eye when I said Lucy’s name.
“Lucy. Lucy Mantella.”
“Her family is with her right now, dear,” the nurse said without looking up. “She’s down the hall, third door on the right. Wait there until someone comes out. Only two people are allowed in the room at once. And only family right now. Are you a relative?”
“Um…yes,” I lied. “I’m her…her cousin.”
“Okay,” she said and tilted her head toward the room.
I sort of melted into a chair in the hallway, just outside Lucy’s room. The door was shut. Maybe the doctor was with her now. Maybe a nurse was with her now. Maybe I should just make a mad dash for it before the door opened. I could leave the tiny teddy sitting on the chair and bolt like a scared rabbit. I so did not want to face this.
And that’s when the door opened. A woman was standing there looking totally destroyed. Lucy’s mother, with circles under her eyes, her dark hair tangled. She jumped a bit, like she was startled to see me out there in the hallway. I’m pretty sure that I jumped too. And in that moment I lost my chance to make a run for it.
I stood up and tried to smile. It wasn’t working out very well, though, because my lips wouldn’t stop trembling.
“Oh. Hello. You took me by surprise,” she half whispered.
“Sorry,” I said. Then I held out the teddy bear, and she took it.
“How adorable! Is…is this for Lucy?”
Like a complete fool, I stood there nodding. I couldn’t even speak.
“Who are you, sweetie?” Mrs. Mantella said. Her voice was soft and kind.
“I’m…I’m…just a friend,” I told her. “My name’s Claire Watkins. We’re all really worried about Lucy at school. I just had to come by to see how she is.”
Mrs. Mantella’s face dropped, and she gasped. For one crazy instant I thought she was angry. Then she reached out, pulled me against her chest and hugged me hard.
“You can’t even imagine how much this means to me,” she said near my ear.
Apparently I was the very first friend of Lucy’s to make that awful trek to the hospital. And I wasn’t even a close friend! Alice hadn’t stopped by yet. She’d only called the house once. Mrs. Mantella frowned when I asked about Eric. He hadn’t been there either. And, for some reason, when she told me that, I wasn’t surprised at all.
“It’s because they’re all afraid,” Mrs. Mantella explained to me. “Afraid to hear what I might say. Afraid that I might cry.” Two huge teardrops trickled out when she said that. “And who wouldn’t be. This is a difficult thing for anyone to face.” Then she squeezed my hand.
“I just felt like I needed to be here for some reason,” I whispered. Because I feel as if it was all my fault, a little voice in my head was whispering.
“You were very brave to come,” she said. “And I’m sorry you can’t go into her room right now. The doctor is with her, and they’re doing some tests. The good news is that she’s stabilized.” She managed a weak smile. “There’s a fifty percent chance that she might actually pull through after all, you know.”
I heaved a huge sigh. That was the best news I’d heard in days. We both stood up, and she hugged me hard again.
“I’ll tell her you came by, and I’ll be sure to give her this teddy, Claire,” Mrs. Mantella told me. “She’ll be so happy to know that you were here today.”
Then she slipped through the door back into Lucy’s room.
chapter eight
Dad’s car was in the driveway when I got home—of course.
I walked through the front door and right up the stairs to my room. I didn't even glance toward the sofa, where I knew they were sitting. They were probably necking. Gross. I didn't need a reminder of pushy Eric and his pushy tongue.
I was still in a daze anyway, after what happened that afternoon. I didn't even want to play Ophelia, and I hoped Seema was wrong about me getting the part. I couldn’t get Lucy or her mom’s sorrowful eyes out of my mind now either. I thought about the guilt I’d felt looking into those eyes after all the strange coincidences. How weird that, after all the babbling that had been going on at school, nobody had even bothered to visit Lucy. As scared as I had been to go over there myself, I felt good about cheering Mrs. Mantella up for a least a few minutes.
I was just settling at my desk to start an essay, wondering if there would be any dinner tonight, when I heard it. The front door slammed—so hard the windows in my bedroom rattled. I froze. I dreaded what I might hear next. Sounds travel easily through the thin walls of low-income housing. Then I heard it. The wrenching sound of Mom’s gulping sobs.
Fury grabbed my throat. How could he do this to her again? I hurried downstairs into the gloomy living room. The lights were all off, and Mom was hunched over the arm of the sofa sobbing her heart out. I switched on a lamp.
“What did he do now, Mom?” I said.
“Nothing,” she mumbled into the sofa. “Go away, Claire. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Well, we’re going to,” I told her. Then I settled into the sofa beside her and started rubbing her shoulder. That was when I spotted the big red welt on her forearm. I hadn’t seen one for months. Coincidence? Don’t think so.
“What’s this?” I said, stroking it gently with my fingertip.
“Never mind,” she said and pulled her sweatshirt sleeve down to hide it.
“He did it again, didn’t he, Mom?” I whispered.
“No.” Long pause. “I banged it on a doorknob.” Her voice was muffled, but I could tell she was lying. She could never look me in the eye when she lied about Dad.
“Mom! Why do you keep letting him do this to you? And why did he do it this time, anyway?”
“Because…” She sniffed hard and sat up. Her eyes were pink, her face puffy and tear-streaked. But something was different this time. She was scowling, and that was a good thing. “Because he wanted money to buy beer, and I told him I don’t have any. We need all our money to get by, don’t we? There isn’t any to spare, is there? Then… then he asked where my purse was, and I wouldn’t tell him. I hid it, Claire. I hid my purse on him.”
“Mom!” I hugged her hard. “You’re brilliant. You really are. You’ve never had the guts to do that before!”
“I’m brilliant?” She looked surprised. “Nobody has ever said that to me before.”
“Why did you do it, Mom? Hide the purse, I mean. Not give him any money. How come you were so brave this time?”
Mom sighed. I handed her a box of tissues that was on the coffee table, and she blew her nose. Then she wiped her face on her sleeve. Her eyes stopped on the welt and she touched it.
“Because I remembered the look on your face the other day when you found him here. And I remembered all the hurt. From before. You were right, Claire.” She sighed again.
I snuggled up beside her and rested my head on her shoulder.
“Mom, you want to know something?” I said. “You absolutely rock.”
I didn’t want to be too hopeful. I knew he’d be back. He’d done stuff like this b
efore and slammed out of the house in a rage. But he always came back, with flowers that he picked himself or a big rainbow lollipop, something sweet and romantic. And she always softened and forgave him. And let him stay.
And the cycle would begin all over again.
Mom and I had pasta for dinner, and then I tried to focus on an essay for the rest of the evening. But every sound made me jump. I kept getting up to look out the window whenever I heard a car door slam. And that was often, because cars are always coming and going in townhouse complexes.
I made sure the doors were locked too. I didn’t want him coming back here tonight or any other night. I didn’t want Mom to get all upset again. I wanted her to keep trying to make a new life for herself. She was a different person when she had hope in her eyes. It almost made me think that we could do this, could actually patch a life together after all that we’d been through. We needed a life without him screwing everything up all the time.
I’d barely finished writing the first paragraph when the phone rang. I grabbed it before my mom could.
“Hello?” My voice was still angry. I couldn’t help it.
Long pause. “Claire?”
Oh no. “Uh…Eric?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Look, what’s your problem?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Come on. Don’t try to mess with my head. You know what I mean, Claire.” His voice was low and almost threatening. “You know you want me.”
“Are you totally kidding me?” Now he was starting to make me mad. How could he possibly think that I liked him?
“Why’d you ditch me in the hall today? I thought we had something going on.”
“We don’t have anything going on, Eric,” I said almost with a growl. “All we did was talk the other day. Then you tried to choke me with your tongue today! And now, for some bizarre reason, you think I owe you something.”
“But you were coming on to me. You were giving me the vibes.”
Was I? I hadn’t meant to. Or maybe I had. But at that point I really had thought that I liked him. And I hadn’t realized what a total jerk he was. Or what a crappy kisser!