Acting Out

by Katrina Abbott

  “Starting when?” I asked.

  “Right now.”

  “So that’s thirty days from today. The dance, the talent show, rehearsals. Everything that falls in that time.”

  He nodded and I wanted to rip the smug smirk off his face with my fingernails.

  Just then Jenks’ phone sounded, signaling the end of Abe’s ten minutes of nudity, driving home how short his punishment was compared to mine. Nice.

  “Thank God,” Abe muttered as he started getting dressed. But he kept his gaze focused on me. “So?”

  “Fine.” Keeping my narrowed eyes on his, I blew out a breath and pulled up my zipper, the sound of the metal teeth like nails on a chalkboard.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw as Miles looked from my chest up to my face. “Aw,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Your turn to pick someone, Chelly,” Emmie said.

  I looked over at my friend and she was smiling at me. Did she not realize what Abe had just done? He’d not only taken away my best assets, he basically insulted me to my face. Didn’t she see? Then I looked at Celia and Brooklyn, who were chatting like nothing had happened. Didn’t they get it, either? Was I missing something?

  “Your turn,” Emmie repeated, her smile gone now.

  Of course, I was supposed to pick her. That was the plan, what we’d worked out. How I was going to hook up with Miles. But suddenly I didn’t care about Miles as much as I cared about getting Abe back. I tuned my eyes away from Emmie, returning them to Abe. I forced an innocent smile on my face and said, “I pick Abe.”

  “He’s already gone,” Miles said.

  “No rule against that,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” Emmie asked, her voice questioning as I went off-script.

  I didn’t even look at her when I said, “Positive.”

  And as Abe said, “Dare,” the cocky look on his face told me he wasn’t afraid. He’d been through the worst childhood imaginable and he was basically challenging me to do my worst. But he had no idea exactly what I was capable of. Or what I knew.

  “I dare you,” I said sweetly. “To perform in the talent show.”

  His smile faltered slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but I was watching for it.

  Hunter spoke up. “What kind of dare is that? He’s used to performing.”

  “He’s used to acting,” I said. “But not this time. This performance has to be a magic show.”

  Abe’s face fell and I was sure if it hadn’t been so dark there in the woods, I would have seen all the blood drain from his cheeks. I had a sudden pang of regret over it, but told myself to get over it after what he’d done to me.

  “You read my manuscript?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He knew I had.

  Brooklyn gasped from beside him, making me realize she hadn’t read very far in his book or she would have known what I was doing. Also, she probably had no idea I’d even had the manuscript. I gave her an apologetic look before I turned my eyes back to Abe.

  “Yes,” I said. “I read it.”

  “Jared, I didn’t give it to her,” Brooklyn said. “I left it...”

  I waved her off and explained. “Brooklyn’s father was sick, you know that. Well, when she was gone, I took the book and read it. She had nothing to do with it, so don’t be mad at her. I forgot to give it back to her, but I will because I know you wanted her to read it.”

  His jaw clenched as he glared at me, the light from the minuscule fire flickering on the hard angles of his face. As our friends watched on, we had something of a silent standoff there around the campfire. The tension crackled more than the fire between us.

  I realized as he stared at me that I’d never actually seen him angry. I wondered if anyone had—he was always such a happy guy who told jokes, even though that seemed contrary to everything I’d read about in his book. But here and now in the woods, after what I’d just done, he was obviously angry and I had a moment of thinking I’d pushed him too far. But as I sat there, my eyes unwavering on his, I knew it was too late to back down now, even though my heart was pounding in panic.

  Finally, he nodded. “Fine.”

  “You’ll do the magic show?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said and stood up because I was suddenly feeling restless and strangely exposed, even though my coat was completely done up and I was wearing jeans. I was more clothed than I had been since I returned from the ski holiday. Still, I needed to get away from the group.

  “Chelly?” Abe said as I turned away from the fire pit.

  I looked over my shoulder. He was fully clothed now, but his eyes, dark as they were, were what held my attention. His smirk was back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well played.”

  It didn’t make me any less pissed at him, but maybe it made me respect him a tiny bit. Giving him a nod, I reached down and grabbed Miles’s hand, tugging him to his feet.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, clueless.

  “Out of here,” I said as I led him into the woods, away from the circle and my friends.

  So That’s Ritzy

  A little while later I was still seething about Abe’s dare, but had settled down enough to start in on my physics homework, when there was a knock at my dorm room door.

  Naomi was at the library, so I got up to answer.

  No surprise that it was Brooklyn. What was surprising was that she had arrived so early.

  After leading Miles into the woods away from everyone, I’d sort of lost steam on my boyfriend plan and really didn’t have it in me to put any effort into making out with him, so I’d told him I had a headache and returned to the dorm without even a word to my friends. But I had expected the rest of the girls to stay out pretty late with the guys.

  “Hey,” I said. “Come on in.” I stood back so she could enter the room. “I didn’t expect you all back so soon.”

  She shrugged. “It sort of fizzled after you left. Miles came back and said you weren’t feeling well. Kaylee and Emmie are still out there with Danny and Declan, but the other guys left and Celia and I came back.”

  I gestured toward my bed and she sat down.

  Not that she was a really talky sort, but it made me nervous after several moments when she hadn’t said anything.

  It was obviously up to me to start the ball rolling. I started. “I’m so sorry about back there,” I said. “I honestly didn’t mean to steal his book. I found it in the lounge after you left.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad you picked it up. I’ve been so worried about where it got to. I can’t believe I even left it in there.”

  “I should have told you. I actually forgot about it when you didn’t come back after Thanksgiving.”

  She frowned and looked down at her hands. “You should have given it back to him.”

  “You’re right,” I said.

  At that, she looked up at me, like she was surprised I was agreeing with her. I shrugged. “I should have given it back to him when I found it. But I was curious. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but I’m a bit impulsive and sometimes do stupid things.”

  She smiled at that. It was nice of her not to explicitly agree with me. But I knew what I was and wouldn’t have thought less of her if she had.

  I went on. “In my defense I was waiting for you to return, but when it was obvious you wouldn’t before Christmas, I should have contacted him and given it back. Keeping it was wrong. And for what it’s worth, I really am sorry I dragged you into the drama earlier.”

  She gave me a quick nod that I took as her forgiveness before saying, “What was that about, anyway?”

  “You obviously didn’t read the whole thing.” I looked over at the thick envelope on my desk that I’d pulled out of my drawer, getting it ready to give back to her. With a sigh I got up and grabbed it, handing it to her before I sat on my bed.

  “No,” she said, putting the envelope across her thighs and resting her hands on top of it. “I didn�
��t get very far at all. What I read was bad, but he told me it got worse. I imagine much worse.”

  “Yeah. Well, you’ll get to it eventually, but basically he says never really wanted to be an actor; he wanted to be a magician. His parents told him acting would help him with his ‘stage presence’ and coerced him to go to a bunch of auditions, but I guess after he got offered the role on Lady Parts, his father freaked out and said magic was stupid and never had any intention of letting him pursue it. Then he burned up all his magic tricks and gear in a backyard fire and forbade him from ever mentioning magic again. ”

  Brooklyn recoiled. “What? What parent does that?”

  “Yeah. Did I mention his dad was a drunk?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I did get that far.”

  “Anyway...”

  But she interrupted me before I got any further. “So why did you do that? I mean, obviously magic is a hot button issue for him, so why would you shove that in his face?”

  That got my back up a little. “You heard his dare to me, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said, a crease appearing in her forehead. “But that’s not hurting you. What you did was sort of like a slap in the face, no?”

  I took a breath and exhaled. “Probably. It made me mad, what he did. Like, it was insulting, you know?”

  “Suggesting you wear more clothes?”

  “That’s insulting to how I dress now.”

  She glanced down at my t-shirt, which was a bit too small and showed cleavage, but which I thought didn’t count toward the dare, since I was in my own room. “I suppose so, but it’s still not like he would insult you on purpose. He’s a nice guy, Chelly.”

  “I know that,” I said, now regretting retaliating, and ashamed that it took my friend to make me realize it. “I mentioned I’m impulsive sometimes, right?”

  She gave me a half-smile.

  “Do you think I should let him out of it?”

  She seemed to consider that for a moment while I held my breath. “No, I don’t think so. I kind of think he would hate that. He’s not really the quitting type. Maybe it’ll be good for him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “Fulfilling his childhood dream. Thumbing his nose at his father. Proving that he can do whatever he wants to do and that it’s not stupid.”

  “That makes sense,” I said.

  “But one thing you’d better do,” she said, aiming a pointed glance at me.

  “What’s that?”

  “Clap the loudest.”

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “I’ll be there with freaking pompoms.”

  Brooklyn laughed. “He’ll love that; guys love cheerleaders.”

  “Yeah they do,” I said, sardonically. “Because of their short skirts.”

  Her smile dissolved as she clued in that the talent show was less than thirty days away. In fact, it was in less than two weeks. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be a great cheerleader in...uh...yoga pants?” she said with raised eyebrows, trying to be comforting, I guess.

  I didn’t bother responding.

  ~ ♥ ~

  “...for the next week or so...Ma petite? Are you listening?”

  Crap. I grabbed the phone that had been cradled between my ear and shoulder, realizing I hadn’t heard much of what my mother had said, other than she was going for another procedure. “Sorry, Maman. I have a big test tomorrow and I was studying.” Which was only a half-lie. I didn’t have a test the next day, but one was coming up and I was trying to read my physics homework, which was making my brain hurt and obviously wasn’t something I could do while on the phone with my mother. Definitely not if she expected me to pay attention.

  “Well what I was saying, Seychelles, is that I will be recuperating in Manhattan after the procedure, but your father is busy working on that big case, so I was thinking of coming to visit you so you can see my new eyes.”

  I cringed. I’d seen her old eyes and her old new eyes; now I had to see her new, new eyes? “Maman, the dean really doesn’t like parents dropping in. It’s probably not a good idea.”

  “Oh don’t be silly. She’d be happy to let me come see my daughter. I’ll just give her a call and remind her who I am.”

  I held my palm over the phone so she wouldn’t hear me sigh. Because while yes, my mother was semi-famous thanks to her career as a waify French supermodel back in the early nineties, a lot of the girls here at Rosewood had even more famous, more accomplished parents (I’m talking Nobel prize-winners and actual Hollywood A-listers, not just mannequins with heartbeats) and the dean wasn’t often impressed by celebrity. Not that I actually wanted my mother to visit, anyway.

  “Maman, please. It’s better if you don’t come. Really. I’m trying to do better this year and I need to focus on school. You being here would just be distracting.”

  “D’accord,” she said, relenting, but obviously not happy about it. “How is your diet coming? I hope you are not eating bread and cheese—you know what they do to your derriere, though I guess your French side can’t help but love them. And after all you ate at Christmas...” she gave me a very French-sounding tsk, tsk.

  I glanced over at the open box of Ritz cheese sandwich crackers and cursed mentally. As though she could see into my room—which I suddenly felt was possible, considering—I opened my desk drawer and dropped the box in, slamming it closed.

  “The diet’s fine,” I said automatically. “I’ve lost two pounds.” Which was a lie—or might have been if I’d actually been on a scale.

  “Tres bien!” she said and I could picture her even clapping her elegant, bony hands. “See? I told you it would work if you applied yourself. You will be thin and very beautiful soon,” she said, quickly adding, “Of course, you are beautiful now—such a pretty face, but...”

  I couldn’t begin to count how many times I’d heard the “Such a pretty face,” thing over the years, but she still somehow managed to slay me with it nearly every time. Because to her, being thin (and by extension beautiful and wanted) was more important than anything in the world; how ironic that her one daughter would never be thin no matter how faithfully she followed any diet. I tried to tell myself her expectations were unrealistic and stupid, but it didn’t matter what my head thought, my heart hurt every time she looked disparaging at my dinner plate or suggested I ask the dean if I could take double gym classes.

  “I have to go,” I said, surprised I could even get the words out. “I’ll talk to you later, Maman.”

  “A bientot, ma petite,” she sang, her voice abruptly cut off as I pressed the button.

  I returned to my reading and got about three paragraphs in before I opened the desk drawer and pulled out the box of crackers.

  Construct a Hypothesis

  If I’m wearing baggy, ugly clothes, no guy will want me.

  This was my hypothesis now that Abe had issued his cruel dare. And I was going to prove it at tonight’s rehearsal. I hadn’t seen Miles or any other male (other than teachers) since that night out at the fire pit, but I had told Miles via text that I was looking forward to seeing him, hoping he was still on the hook. If not, I was going to have to start over in finding a guy to be my boyfriend. And with my new wardrobe limitations, that was going to be difficult. At least for the next three and a half weeks.

  While I knew Miles wasn’t the one, as in the long term one that I could get married to and have kids with (not that I was looking!), he definitely qualified as the one for now. He was good-looking, nice (if a little limited in his intellectual capabilities) and liked me. And most importantly—he didn’t look at me like he could see right through me. I mean, while Emmie said she wanted a guy who knew her every secret, I knew better. Because let’s face it, any guy who knew my every secret would run screaming and then I’d be back at square one again.

  When I got to the auditorium in Naomi’s baggy Rosewood hoodie and jeans, feeling like I was dressed for the Arctic, he was up on the stage with Declan chatting excited
ly about something. Declan looked over and seemed relieved to see me. He muttered something to Miles and then turned away from him, coming straight for me.

  “Thank God you’re here,” he said in his Irish accent, keeping up his charade. Even though I knew he was British, it was just safer that way. He probably even whispered his sweet nothings into Kaylee’s ears in his Irish brogue. Not that she would complain...

  “What’s up? Everything okay?” I looked up to the stage, but nothing seemed amiss. “Where’s Kaylee?”

  “She sent me a text a few minutes ago to say she’s on her way down. And everything’s fine,” he said, dropping his voice before continuing. “I just can’t listen to Miles go on and on anymore.”

  I cringed. “Football?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Is it ever anything else?”

  “I’ll go entertain him,” I said, looking up to the stage, figuring I could flirt and practice lines with him.

  “Thanks,” Declan said. “I’ll just go sit with Abe until I’m up.”

  At mention of my new arch-nemesis, my head swung toward where Declan was heading at the back of the theater. Sure enough, there was Abe sitting in the shadows watching me. My first thought was: what is he doing here? And then my second was: that jerk is here to make sure I’m dare-compliant!

  I was about to go yell at him for checking up on me when Mr. Stratton walked in, drawing my attention to him. Because: yum.

  “Okay everyone,” he said, clapping his hands to get our attention as he made his way up to the front of the auditorium. This, of course, was unnecessary because when he walked into a room all females (and I bet a few males) instantly turned. “Kaylee will be here shortly, but why don’t we get started. We’ll need to go over that scene we’re doing in the talent show, so let’s start there. Chelly?” he looked around actually missing me on his first sweep over the group. But eventually, his eyes landed on me, looking me up and down, not in a skeevy way, but probably because he’d never seen me wear so much. He gave me a friendly smile. “There you are. You and Declan up on the stage to start and then we can do the second part with everyone else.”