“Speaking of which, has Alexis tried to get back at you since 'The Slap'?” Michelle smiled as she used finger quotes we could all see.
“Yeah, she's tried,” Kayla confessed. “She's done what she's best at – spreading false rumors. But I think most of our classmates have learned to see through her B.S. at this point.”
“She's doing the same thing to me,” I said. “Plus, I've gotten some really nasty texts.” I picked my cell phone up off the end table, pushed a few buttons, and showed Kayla the screen, which read: “Prepare 2 die, skank.”
Kayla gasped. “How many of these have you gotten?”
“Three, all in the past week. There's no name on the caller ID, but I'm sure it's her. I've had to block that number.”
“Jeez, Soph,” Michelle said, alarmed.
I shrugged. “Forget it. That's just Alexis being the sore loser she is.”
“What about Rhianna?” Marissa asked.
“She still glares at me in Science class, but other than that, nothing. I'm sure she's plotting something, but I've got my eye on her. She thinks she can scare me, but I'm not going to let that happen.”
“Neither am I,” said Kayla. “We've only got seven more months before we're done with middle school, and those two cobras can tell people whatever the hell they want. They can say I'm a drug addict, a sexaholic, or even that I assassinated JFK for all I care. In a few years, they'll just be a bad memory. And in the meantime,” she smiled at all of us, “I know who my real friends are.”
Marissa, who was sitting next to Kayla on the couch, patted her gently on the back. “Well, you're still the coolest person in this group.”
“Thanks, Riss.”
“Was there something else?” Simon asked. “You said 'a few things' before.”
“Yeah …” she murmured, looking down at the ground.
“What is it?” I asked, hoping this wasn't going to be bad news.
Rubbing the back of her head, she said, “I … I mean, I'm really happy to help you guys rehearse, and I know how much you guys want to be in the play, but … would you all be really upset if I didn't audition?”
The rest of us looked at each other silently for a few moments, not quite knowing how to respond. After an awkward silence, I said softly, “You don't like acting?”
“It's not that, it's just …” She exhaled. “For the last year all I've done is act. Act like a person I thought I wanted to be, and not the person I am. I mean, don't get me wrong, I understand why you guys want to do it, but … I'm kind of burned out right now.” She paused, looking at our faces. “Am I making any sense?”
No one spoke for a few moments. Finally, I broke the silence. “It's okay, Kayla. No one's going to force you to do something you don't want to do.” The rest of us nodded in agreement.
She gave a slight smile, visibly relieved. “Thanks, you guys.”
“Kind of a shame, though,” Ayden said with a wry smirk. “You'd be a pro at memorizing lines and stuff.”
“Yeah,” said Simon. “You'd only have to read the script once.”
“I still want to be involved, though,” Kayla said. “Maybe there's something I can do that doesn't involve acting?”
Marissa beamed as an idea came to her. “I've got it! You could help with set design! They're always looking for volunteers!”
Kayla seemed to consider this for a moment. “You know what? That's a great idea. I'm not all that bad with a paintbrush, so that sounds like something I can do.”
“Great!” I said. “I'm sure Mr. Danbury and Ms. Hough will be glad for the help.”
A puzzled look crossed Kayla's face. “Ms. Hough? The art teacher?”
“Yeah, she always organizes the set design for the school plays.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “I'll talk with her on Monday about helping.”
“See, there's a place for everyone,” Marissa said, sounding impatient. “Can we get on with rehearsals now?”
Before I could respond, there was another knock on the door, three loud raps right in a row.
Ayden rolled his eyes. “You expecting someone else?”
“No,” I said, standing up. I scurried to the front door, shouting at Dad once again that I'd get it. When I opened the door, I saw a boy I didn't recognize.
He looked to be a little older than me, though it was tough to tell as his eyes were hidden behind a pair of cheap-looking sunglasses. He was fairly tall, with short, wavy brown hair, and he was wearing blue jeans with a large hole over one of his knees and a dirty brown hoodie. Behind him, lying flat on our front lawn, I saw a cool-looking dirt bike, which must have been how he got to our house.
“May I help you?” I asked, quirking a suspicious eyebrow at him.
“Is Kirsten here?” he asked abruptly, as if annoyed that it wasn't Kirsten who answered the door herself.
“No,” I replied. “She's out with my mom.”
He turned his head away from me, and I heard a silent expletive escape his lips.
“Is she expecting you?” I asked, matching my annoyed tone to equal his.
“I thought she was,” he said, facing me again. “Do you know when she'll be back?”
“Not for a couple more hours, at least. Can I give her a message or something?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets in a huff. “Just tell her Duncan came by, and I have what she asked for. Tell her if she wants it to give me a call. Can you handle that?”
So this is Duncan? The guy from her Trig class? The one who's supposed to be helping her out? What does he have for her? More notebooks?
I looked him up and down. He wasn't carrying a bag, or a backpack, or anything that might contain a notebook. Plus, he definitely didn't look like the kind of boy who was on the honor roll. This guy looks like bad news.
“Yeah.” Before I could say any more, he turned on his heel, grabbed his bike off the lawn, got on, and sped away.
“Nice to meet you,” I murmured, shutting the door and returning to the family room. My friends all turned to look at me expectantly.
“Who was it?” asked Marissa.
I flumped back down on the sofa next to Michelle, trying to keep the sudden concern I was feeling off my face. “Nobody. Just someone looking for my sister.” Picking up my script, I announced, “Okay, who wants to be who today?”
Over the next two hours, the six of us went through the entire script three times, each of us taking turns playing different characters. I shoved Kirsten's mysterious visitor to the back of my mind, still undecided if I should tell Mom and Dad about him. Maybe it's nothing. I HOPE it's nothing.
Ayden surprised me by stealing the show. Not only did he seem to have memorized all of Peter's lines, but his technique had improved tremendously. It was obvious he was taking it very seriously, and I made a point to try equally hard to read my lines as convincingly as he did. How weird it is that now, after all that's happened, I'm drawing inspiration from Ayden Saunders. It's just so amazing how much things can change.
When we decided to call it a day, Kayla was the first to leave, stating that she'd promised to take care of her little brother Troy so her parents could have a rare night out for themselves. As soon as she left, Ayden turned to Simon and said with an evil smirk, “So, Simon, did ya ask her yet?” He used his head to gesture at Michelle, who was sitting next to him on the same sofa I was on.
Simon turned bright red, shooting an embarrassed 'I'm-gonna-kill-you-later' glare back at Ayden, who'd obviously let a very large cat out of the bag. When Michelle turned to face Simon, he could only splutter, “I – I was about to …”
“Ask me what?” Michelle queried.
His face twitching nervously, he turned his head to meet her gaze. “I, uh … I was just wondering if, you know, you'd like to come over and have dinner sometime. Uh, you know, with my family and stuff.” He threw his hands up. “I mean; I understand if you can't …”
“I'd love to,” she said, a goofy smile breaking out on her face. “Whe
n?”
In the blink of an eye, Simon's face went from beet-red to ghost-white. He obviously hadn't expected an affirmative response. “Uh … tomorrow okay? We're, uh, having eggplant parmesan …”
“Ooh, my fave!” She grasped Simon's hand. “That sounds dope-alicious!”
Finally, Simon relaxed a little, a toothy smile erupting on his face. Yet again, Michelle's dorkiness had a mellowing effect. “Cool! Six o'clock, then?”
“Sure thing. Or, I could come a little early and we could squeeze some Hellfire in …”
Simon nodded his head so rapidly, his glasses almost flew off. “A-a-absolutely,” he stammered. “I'm on the corner of 6th Avenue and Orange Blossom, the one with the two huge palm trees in the front yard.”
“Awesome! Tomorrow, then,” she said, putting her other hand on top of his.
He looked down at it in shock, and then smiled again. “Okay.”
“Would you like to walk me out?” Michelle asked coyly.
“You got it,” Simon replied, standing up quickly and grabbing his script. “See ya, you guys.” He then walked out of the room and toward the front door.
I couldn't hide my smile as we all waited for him to realize he'd forgotten something. Finally, he reappeared with an embarrassed look. “Uh, sorry. You, uh, ready?”
She snorted, which was her version of a giggle. As usual, it sounded like a piglet waiting to be fed, but I'd never told her that because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Then she stood up, said her goodbyes, and walked out of the house with Simon.
“I'd better go, too,” said Ayden, standing up. “Can I walk you out, Riss?” He put on his most charming smile. Which, granted, looked a little crooked and goofy, but it was still cute, and I knew it was genuine.
“Can you wait outside for me?” Marissa asked sweetly. “I just need to ask Sophie something. You know, girl stuff.”
Ayden looked back and forth between us for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Okay. See you outside.” Then, to me, he said, “Thanks for lunch, Sophie. You've got a great house.”
“See you Monday, Ayden,” I said, and then he, too, walked toward the front door.
After we heard the door close behind him, Marissa turned to me. “Soph, can you keep a secret?” I could see worry creasing her face.
“Of course, Riss!” I was shocked at the question. “You know that! I still haven't told anyone about the time you ate that earthworm in the first grade, have I?”
This relaxed her a little bit. She took a couple of deep breaths and said softly, “I think … I like Ayden.”
“Kinda waiting for the 'secret' part to start. He's a really good guy, and seeing you two together is totes-adorbs. I like him too.”
“No, Soph. I … really like him.”
“Oh.” I nodded in understanding. “That's … awesome, Riss. I know he feels the same way about you, even if he has a hard time showing it. I think he's had a thing for you since sixth grade.”
She suddenly looked anguished again. “You know me, Soph! I'm no good around boys! I mean, I like being friends with him, but … to be boyfriend and girlfriend … I just don't know how I feel about that.”
I sighed. “Look, Riss, nobody knows what to do the first time. I don't, you don't, and I'm positive Ayden doesn't either. Believe me, he's just as nervous about it as you are.”
“Is there anything … you know, between you?”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “No, Riss, there isn't. We're just friends, that's all. He's more like a brother to me.”
“Really?” she asked, noticeably relieved.
“Yeah,” I replied. “He's helped me out a few times over the years, and for that, I'll always like him.” I squeezed her shoulder. “But he's into you, Riss, so quit being so paranoid.”
She looked away from me for a moment. “He's not what I expected. I mean, yeah, he's a little shy, like me, and stuff. But he's also … sweet. And gentle. I mean, after all that's happened to him, losing his dad and his sister like that, you'd think he'd be angry or bitter or something. But he's not.” She smiled. “And he's a really good actor, too.”
I nodded. “Yeah, he is. I never thought he had that in him.”
“Same with you, Soph. You're … really good. In fact, you're fantastic.” She cast her eyes to the floor. “You're way better than I am. I'm just a little afraid if we get on the stage, people won't notice me at all.”
This comment took me by surprise. I leaned over and looked into her eyes. I needed her to understand what I was about to tell her. “Riss, you and I are not in competition with each other here. You're wonderful at this, and I'm so thankful to be a part of it. At first I wasn't sure, but I'm really glad you and Siobhan talked me into it. I really enjoy doing it, but you're the one who wants to be an actress, not me. I never want to compete with you. Not over this. Not over anything. We've been friends practically our whole lives. I'm not going to risk our friendship over some stupid play, so if you want me to pull out, I will.”
Her jaw dropped open. “Don't you freaking dare, Soph!” she said, horrified. “I said you were better than me, and I meant it.”
I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Riss, no matter what it is, I'm here for you.”
“What should I do, Soph?”
I smiled. “Audition your butt off. And whatever role you get, whether it's Wendy or Tinkerbell or one of the Lost Boys, throw everything you have into it. You wanna know why? Because that's what my best friend Marissa Ramos does.”
A warm smile appeared on her face, and she leaned forward and hugged me. I gratefully returned the hug, wrapping my arms around her. “Thanks, Soph,” she said in my ear.
“No prob,” I said after we parted. “Now go on, your future boyfriend's waiting for you.”
She rose to her feet. “Call me later?”
“You got it,” I replied, and she turned and walked out of the house.
* * *
All through dinner, I shot glances at Kirsten, who, as usual, didn't say much. She was all smiles when she walked through the front door with a few bags of new clothes, but she went straight up to her room after that, and didn't come down again until dinnertime.
I still hadn't brought up Kirsten's mysterious visitor, and I didn't want to until I could talk to her in private. I hoped to have the chance to do that later, because Mom and Dad were planning on taking a rare weekend night off to go to the movies.
“So … how's work, Mom?” I asked, hoping to get some conversation going.
“It's fine,” she said evenly, casually spooning some spinach lasagna onto her plate. I saw her stiffen up, and I knew what that meant: namely, it wasn't fine.
“Any news on the drug front?” Dad said, thankfully asking the question I couldn't bring myself to ask.
“Depends how you look at it. Most of the drug dealers the police arrest cut deals in order to get lighter sentences. Many of them have stated that they've heard rumors about some mysterious criminal kingpin who's responsible for the glut of illegal drugs flowing into the city, but they have no idea who it is. Most of these guys are at the bottom of the food chain, though, so that's not surprising. For all we know, it could just be an urban legend that's going around, but the D.A. is working with the DEA and the police department to see if there's any truth to the rumors.”
“Well, I've kept my eyes open, Mom,” I said. “I haven't seen anything at James Madison like that.” I grinned. “Whoever this kingpin guy is, if he knows what's good for him, he'll stay away from Principal Marquez. She'd eat him for breakfast.”
Mom gave a tired smile, turning to face Kirsten. “How about you, sweetheart? Anything like that going on at Centralia?”
Kirsten looked up in alarm, suddenly afraid of being the center of attention. She looked from Mom to Dad and back again, and her shoulders slumped. “There are bad kids, sure. I don't know if they're dealing drugs or not. I just stay the hell away from them.”
“Good,” said Dad. “Keep doing that.”
“How's Trig class going?” I asked, trying to get some more answers out of her.
“Great,” Kirsten said. She briefly smiled at me, and my guts untightened. “I've aced my last two tests. All I needed was a little more focus.”
“Focus?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “As you'll find out next year, high school's way different from middle school. The schoolwork's harder, and there's a lot more of it.”
“Good to know,” I said, taking another bite of my lasagna.
* * *
A couple of hours later, I knocked on Kirsten's door. When she gave me permission to enter, I opened the door, seeing her at her laptop, IM'ing one of her friends on Facebook, but she closed the window before I could see who it was. “What's up, Soapy Suds?” she asked.
I groaned. Kirsten and I had gotten along much better than most similarly-aged sisters do, but that didn't mean we didn't occasionally try to get under each other's skin. Soapy Suds was a nickname she made up after an unfortunate bubble bath incident I had when I was five. It was clever once, but for God's sake, we're teenagers now.
“Ha, ha, very funny, Kray-Kray,” I teased right back. “I just wanted to tell you … Duncan came by today, looking for you.”
Her eyes widened. “What did he want?”
“He said he had something for you, but he didn't tell me what. Was it another notebook?”
“Yeah. Thanks for telling me. I'll call him in a few minutes.”
I didn't know what it was, but something was still bothering me. Something about this whole situation was making me nervous. “Are you really doing better now, Kirsten? I mean, in school?”
She stood up from her chair, crossing the room to face me. Her expression had gone from sisterly to dead serious. “Soph, I appreciate your concern, but I got this, okay? You don't have to worry. I was having a hard time before, but you know me. There's nothing more important to me than my schoolwork.”
Sophie's Different (James Madison Series Book 3) Page 13