“Was it a girl?”
“No...”
“Yes it was! A girl!” She twirled in a circle with her arms up in the air, then spun to the door and ripped it open. “Mom! Ethan’s talking to a girl!” Every word was accentuated as much as possible, so it came out like Mooooooom and giiiiiirl!
“Go to bed, Amy!” my father barked harshly from the room across the hall from mine.
Amy pouted, gave me a nasty look, and stomped down the hall to the last door after the bathroom, her room. She slammed her door with all the force an angry seven-year-old can muster, which wasn’t much.
I shut my door and then rolled back on the bed, flipping my TV on, and grabbed my laptop. Sorry, my sister came in, I hastily typed to Taylor.
It took fifteen minutes for her to respond, and I swore it was the longest fifteen minutes of my life.
I’m falling asleep, actually. Wanna finish this tomorrow?
I was glad she couldn’t see how disappointed I was. Sure.
K. Goodnight.
You, too.
You, too? I flopped on my back and almost hit my headboard. I reached for my pills and dry swallowed one. This was a cute girl that I kept running into who kissed me five days ago, and all I could say was “you, too.”
Ethan, you’re a dumbass, I told myself. Where’s all that charm you pulled on Marley, Emily, Susanna — not to mention the charm you tried to pull on Maeve – that she never really realized? Are you losing your touch, old man?
I put my keyboard on the desk and flipped off my light. I had to try harder with Taylor. The same old dumb jokes and passive-aggressive sexiness wasn’t going to cut it. Besides, Taylor wasn’t just any high school girl; she was new to this thing. I didn’t want her to get upset or anything. The question was, what did sweet girls like? I thought I knew what some girls liked, but not sweet girls. Not girls like Taylor.
I lay awake for another hour, thinking what I could do, when it finally came to me. Her performance was next week, and I’d show her how much that little kiss in the choir room meant to me.
You, too. I really was a dumbass.
Mark my words, in the future I was going to make sure Taylor got a goodnight from me from now on.
Chapter 8
Taylor
“Is that Ethan?”
Callie nearly made me jump. The green tulle skirt she wore rustled as she smoothed it down with her hands. She was stretching for ballet entrance for Act I as she watched me type into my phone, and next to her five little ballerinas, all about five or six years old, were doing the same.
I looked up at her and nodded.
“Well? What does he say?”
I smiled. “He says, ‘break a leg, but don’t actually. Just dance good.’”
“Aw, your boyfriend is cute.”
One of the little girls giggled and whispered to the girl beside her who laughed sharply. Callie threw them a look and they both focused back on their balance beam.
“Not my boyfriend,” I muttered. “He’s just a friend.”
“He hasn’t asked you yet?”
“No...”
“Oh. I wonder if it’s too soon after Maeve...” Callie’s eyes went wide, and she clamped her mouth shut.
“Who?” I frowned at her.
“Forget I said anything.”
“It’s too late now. Who is Maeve?”
Callie looked like she was going to spill everything, except at that very moment Ms. Tiffany poked her head into the dressing room. “Places, girls.” She motioned to Callie and her little troupe of ballerinas it was time.
Once they were gone, Ms. Tiffany approached me and with her hand under the chin as she examined my outfit. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to dance in that skirt? Especially when the others in your act have elected to wear sequined pants with tulle cuffs?”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “I’ve practiced a dozen times. Or more.”
“Well, for coming to us just a few weeks ago, you’re doing fantastic.” She smiled and patted my arm. “You’ll be a fabulous fish with the rest of the girls.”
I didn’t have it in me, not on opening night, to tell her the other girls didn’t like me. They were all scores younger – I think the older one in my jazz class was about 11 – and the age gap between us made all the difference. Still, I practiced and tried hard to be part of the troupe, and even Ms. Tiffany agreed I was almost better skilled than them.
I had two small parts: a dance number with three other troupes for “Under the Sea.” It didn’t require any singing, thankfully, while the music played in the background. Then at the end when Ariel and Eric wave from the beach, we would come back to the finale. I was the third routine in the first Act with four other dancers.
Why had I invited Ethan when I had such a small part? I had acted like I was Ariel, who had gone to a fabulous ballerina named Jenny, who had been dancing for about twelve years. And she was only sixteen! She deserved it. Her moves were so graceful and defined... She was born to be a mermaid. I never knew someone in pointe shoes could make dancing look like swimming, but Jenny did. But nevertheless, I bet Ethan would be somewhere in the crowd, watching me dance, and suddenly that made me nervous.
I started to make my way to the curtain, hanging out in the wing and waiting my turn. Behind me, I heard the eleven-year-olds giggling softly between them. I shushed them quietly, but they didn’t hear me. No one ever did.
Back in Germany, my parents came to all my recitals, so it was nothing new that people watched me. We’d had a bigger venue than this small town one, even. But it was the fact that a boy was watching.
A boy I had kissed – impetuously, I knew – but still. It hung there between us, and I was going to say anything about it. Not until he asked. I was too embarrassed to admit I’d done it and would rather forget it.
Except, I couldn’t.
“Time!” Ms. Tiffany called, and that was our cue to enter the stage.
The lights were bright, so bright I didn’t even focus on the audience, which was no doubt probably packed – especially with nothing else to do in this town. I focused on my box steps, my arm movements, and the positioning as we swirled and spun around the other “fish”, a group of 2nd graders and three more experienced ballerinas – Jenny, as Ariel, and two male dancers who played Sebastian and Flounder in their bright orange and yellow costumes.
As I swung towards the front of the stage with the other girls, I finally had a chance to briefly scan the front row. I spotted Papa immediately, with his old-fashioned camera, a huge lens attached to the end, held up in front of him. He was smiling as he threw me a thumbs up.
But then at the end of the front row, unbeknownst to my papa, sat Ethan, next to a little girl who fidgeted in her seat.
Was that a ... blue violet in this lap?
Oh no. The boy brought me a flower.
Papa will be so mad if he finds out.
I danced away as I tried desperately to convince myself that it wasn’t for me. He probably knew Jenny, or maybe even Austin, a talented danseur who played Eric. They went to school with us, but I didn’t have any classes with them. No matter how much I tried to talk myself out of it, the way Ethan was watching me told me that rose wasn’t for Jenny or Austin.
We ended the routine with a flourish as we all went on one knee surrounding Ariel. The light died, and we all rushed off stage to allow for the next bit.
It seemed like an eternity before the show finished, two hours later. It was time for the finale, which I didn’t worry much about because it was everyone – all hundred students – on the stage at one time. It was tricky to remember our moves without crashing into each other, but we pulled it off, complete with a standing ovation. Jenny really outdid herself, too, dancing with all the grace and elegance of Ariel.
When it was over, I quickly changed back into my dress and flung my costume onto a hanger, then folded it gently to put in my garment bag. I tried not to work too quickly, but I knew I had to get to Eth
an before Papa did.
I exited the right-wing corridor backstage and let myself into the lobby, which was packed with folks from the audience still getting pictures with their kids. I scanned the crowd and finally saw Ethan – who didn’t stand out much, being the same height at me in a sea of other blond teenagers.
But what he was wearing certainly did stand out. He’d always dressed like someone stepping directly out of the fifties , but today he looked ready to go on the set of Casablanca, one of my mom’s favorite movies. I almost didn’t recognize him. I was used to his rather casual school wear, but for this he had gone all out. He wore a fedora cocked sideways on his head, a white button shirt, black slacks, and a nearly floor-length khaki trench coat. He was holding the hand of the same little girl, his sister I guessed, who was wearing a bright gold dress with a wide tulle skirt and sparkly gold Mary Janes.
I looked around to see Papa but couldn’t find him. I hoped against hope he was behind the throng of people still pouring out of the main hall. As long as I kept it brief, thanked Ethan and then moved on, I would be safe.
I strode directly towards him, and his smile got even bigger and brighter. That made me feel all tingly inside, that he was happy to see me. I almost forgot I was smiling wide, too. The little girl pointed at me and hopped up and down.
“You were so amazing!” she gushed when I got closer. “I tried dancing once, but then I found out I liked soccer more.”
“Easy, Amy,” Ethan chuckled. “Calm down, sister. Don’t scare poor Taylor away.” He turned to me and held out the flower I’d seen earlier. “I know it’s not much but...”
I blinked at him. “You found a cyani? Where did you even find one of these?”
“A what?” He looked at the flower and then held it out again. “I drove to a nursery a little outside town. It’s a cornflower. The guy at the shop told me they were Germany’s national flower?”
“Ja,” I let my accent slip again, “it is.” I took it from him gently and pressed it to my nose. The fragrant violet reminded me of home, the alps, of Mom and Dad and hiking through the peaceful hills. “It’s beautiful, Ethan. Thank you.”
He dropped his sister’s hand and opened his arm, and I realized he wanted to hug me. I pressed my side to his, feeling how warm he was, and then I found it hard to break away.
Even though we were about the same height, I felt him press his lips to the top of my head, and a shiver ran down my spine. The good kind. The kind that made me want to grasp his face in both hands and perfect that terrible kiss in the choir room.
But I couldn’t. Not here, not when...
“Taylor? Who is this, then?”
I ripped myself away from Ethan’s side and took a couple of steps to the right. “Papa! This is my friend, Ethan, from school. We have choir together.”
“You’ve never mentioned him.” Papa frowned, and I could see even Ethan’s sister was uncomfortable with his stare. “Are you two ... good friends?”
“Well, I did offer Taylor the starring role in my play,” Ethan quipped, and I nearly gasped at him, “but she didn’t come to audition for it. So, I guess you could say we’re pretty good friends.”
Papa narrowed his eyes at Ethan. “I know you. You’re the Hersbill kid.”
“Yup, and I’m his sister!” Amy blurted.
“Shh,” Ethan told her, and gripped her hand more tightly. He stuck out his free hand. “And you are?”
“Ethan, this is my Papa, Thomas Leonard. My mama’s father.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Ethan said, his hand still out.
Papa shook his awkwardly, and I knew it was more out of duty. Why was he reacting like this? He was always nice to everyone at church, as the VFW, he even tipped cashiers at the grocery store, for goodness sake.
I frowned at him. “Be nice, Papa,” I begged.
“Well, thank you for being nice to my granddaughter,” he drawled, “but I’d appreciate it if you had no further contact with her in the future. Come on, Tay, let’s go.”
“But I—” Ethan started, but Papa looped his arm around mine and practically dragged me out the door.
“That man was rude,” I heard Amy whine behind us.
As soon as we were out the revolving door at the entrance, I dug my heels into the concrete. “Why were you so rude to him, Papa? Ethan didn’t do anything to you.”
“You have no idea who that kid is, do you?” He walked away from me as he talked. “You should stay away from him, Taylor. He’s not someone that is going to lead you down the path of the narrow and righteous.”
Fuming, I jogged to keep up with his wide, military stride. “Tell me what he’s done wrong!”
Papa spun sharply on his heel as we crossed into the parking lot. “I don’t need to tell you what he’s done wrong. You need to trust me that he is not any boy that I want my only granddaughter hanging around with, and that’s the end of this conversation.” He turned and stomped to the driver’s side of his truck. “Get in, and not another word tonight.”
Dejected, but having no other choice but to obey, I flung the passenger side door open and hopped in. Some old lady crooner singing ‘Amazing Grace’ played on the Christian station, but it was the last song I wanted to hear right now. I crossed my arms and sat silent for the ten-minute drive across town.
When we got home, I waited patiently while Papa unlocked the door and then I pushed passed him and went to my room.
“Don’t forget your prayers tonight!” he called after me, but I ignored him.
Flinging my garment bag on the floor, not caring if I rumpled my costume or not, I plopped in my papasan chair propped in the corner of my room and crossed my legs under me. Pulling out my phone, I immediately texted Ethan.
I’m sorry my papa was so rude; I don’t know what came over him.
I stared at my phone for ten minutes, wiling him to answer, then realized he was probably driving his sister home. I tossed my phone on the bed and changed into pjs, then curled up on top of my comforter, just as his text came in.
It’s all right, really. I should be used to it by now. Some things never change.
I blinked at his message, trying to decipher it. Why was he used to people calling him a bad person? He seems too nice. Everyone at school liked him. He was popular. He was directing a play, for goodness sake. He was, for all my limited experience, a pretty good kisser. What was not to like?
Why? I texted.
It’s kind of a long story. Tomorrow is Saturday – do you want to go do something and we can talk about it?
Is it about Maeve? I hovered over send and dropped my thumb on the arrow.
His response was nearly immediate. Who told you about Maeve?
Callie. Who’s Maeve? Your girlfriend?
No...
Did she move away?
She...died.
I gasped. Oh. I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything.
It’s pretty late, and I’m headed to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?
I agreed and told him goodnight, before I remembered that Papa probably wouldn’t let me go anywhere with Ethan, but I had so many questions. Who was Maeve? How did she die? Was she his sister, friend, what? Whatever happened, it was serious enough that I’d bet money on Papa knowing, and it was enough to make him dislike Ethan, like, a lot. I had to know what was going on, if Ethan was willing to talk about it that was. Ethan’s side of the story was the only way I was going to be able to convince Papa that he wasn’t a bad person.
And what exactly did Ethan mean by ‘do something’ tomorrow – did he mean a date? I wasn’t allowed to date, or even court for that matter, without my father’s express permission, and he was three-thousand miles away on the other side of the planet.
But so far, Ethan and I were just friends. So not a date.
Definitely not.
I’d see him tomorrow
For a friend ... date.
Chapter 9
Ethan
I stared at the pills in my
hand. Take 1 in the morning and 1 at night. They didn’t make me feel any better, but they didn’t make me feel any worse. I screwed off the lid and popped one in my mouth and dry swallowed.
Today was the day I was going to tell Taylor. Was it too soon? I’d only known her a little over two weeks, but our constant texting until well after midnight some nights told me so much about her. She loved to read and take walks, and she pressed flowers. What a girly thing to do. We watched movies together over our app, and at lunch together every day. Sometimes her friend Callie, who was kinda cool, sat with us. She always threw little sly smiles at Taylor, but I didn’t know what they meant.
I hoped what I had planned for our day wasn’t stupid or silly. Taylor was a pretty simple girl; I didn’t think she’d need flowers and a movie like all my past girlfriends.
Was this a date? I didn’t know. We hadn’t talked about anything so ... formal. But I hoped at the end of today, she wouldn’t hate me. She’d still talk to me after she found out ... but I didn’t know what she’d think of me. No one else knew for a reason – how would they accept that Ethan Hersbill was nothing but a...
“Ethan!” My mother called from downstairs.
“Coming!” I yelled back from behind my closed bedroom door. I slipped into my converses and shrugged into my leather jacket. It was probably too warm in the middle of the spring to wear a jacket, but Taylor had said offhandedly she liked it. She’d teased me briefly about dressing like I lived in another time, which I hadn’t really thought about. T-shirts and cuffed jeans were just comfortable. It never occurred to me I had a particular ‘style’ as she called it, but if she liked it, I’d wear it as much as possible.
The aroma of bacon hit me when I entered the kitchen a few minutes later. My mother was standing at the stove, flipping bacon, and Amy was perched on a stool at the island, coloring with her crayons on a blank sheet of paper. I hugged her as I passed and asked what she was drawing.
“A dragon,” she announced, and flourished her green crayon over the page. “Like Mommy’s book.” She motioned the chaos at the other end of the island – my mother’s laptop, a stack of unbound computer paper, and a book with “sample copy – do not distribute” banner across the middle of the cover, which had a castle, dragon, and a fierce looking couple standing back to back, branding swords.
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