Understudy

“But what if he’s not a criminal? What if there’s an explanation for why he got in trouble…one that doesn’t make him a bad person?”

“Go on…what is it? What’s this magical explanation?”

My shoulders fall and I stare at the half-eaten pizza in front of me. “I don’t know. But he told me that he could explain it all to me one day and that I’d understand. He told me if I cared about him then I’d trust him.” Margot’s eyes pierce into me, begging me to continue. “But I didn’t want to be the butt of some stupid joke, so I told him I wouldn’t date him without the truth.”

“And did he tell you?”

I shake my head.

Margot thinks for a moment. All of the noise in the cafeteria fades into the static of my own mind, where my thoughts rest painfully on Derek. Her freezing cold fingers touch my arm. “If you really like him, girl you need to go talk to him.”

“How do I know if I really like him?”

She smiles. “Trust me, you do.”

My life consists of nothing but rehearsal for the next three days. It’s funny how when I tried to avoid Derek when I was with Margot, I seemed to run into him everywhere. Now that I want to run into him, he’s gone. It’s almost like he never existed. And the stupid thing is now I don’t have to hide him from Margot. She’s actually encouraging me to find him and get to the bottom of his secret. Sometimes life is just extra ironic.

“Why isn’t prop boy here?” Greg whines from backstage as he shuffles through a pile of props for act two. “I can’t do this by myself.”

“Good question,” I say, hiding the pain in my gut that tells me Derek is skipping rehearsal on purpose. Or for all I know, he could have been arrested again. “Will you call him?”

Greg scoffs at my request and motions to the boxes of crap he’s busy unloading and moving around. “I don’t have time for that, boss. You call him.”

“I don’t have tim

e for it either,” I snap. “Dress rehearsal starts in thirty seconds.”

Ricky stumbles onstage, still wearing the sweaty clothes he wore to play basketball in gym last period. God. I have to kiss this.

I throw up my arms in frustration. “Why aren’t you dressed? This is the freaking dress rehearsal.”

He shrugs. “Jeremy’s clothes are just regular clothes, so I thought I was dressed.”

I sigh as loudly as possible. Technically he’s right, but Jeremy is not supposed to be wearing Lawson High School gym clothes.

He gives me a big cheesy grin. “Don’t be mad at me, Wren, geez.”

I roll my eyes and take my place off stage because I am the second character to make an entrance once the curtain opens. “I won’t be mad at you but only because the lights are working, the props are perfect and everyone else is dressed and ready to perform.”

Our freshman stagehand rushes to the side stage and grabs the rope that pulls open the curtains. “Ready?” he whispers. “In five…four…”

“Are you passing math now?” I whisper to Ricky as the curtain guy continues the countdown.

He scratches the back of his neck and nods. “Math? Yeah.”

The curtain opens and the music plays a track of a thunderstorm. I roll my eyes and try to stay focused. We have a play to rehearse and letting myself get annoyed over Ricky’s inability to form a full sentence isn’t going to help anything.

All three acts of the play go smoother than I could have hoped, especially since Ricky agreed to skip the kissing scenes until he’s not covered in sweat. For the first time in, well, ever—everyone said their lines in an actual acting manner without giggling or making jokes or screwing around. I think the pressure of the play being only twenty-four hours away has finally gotten to everyone. Maggie had her lines perfectly memorized from day one and her acting isn’t too bad either. Asking her to be in the play is probably the only decision I’ve made as director that didn’t totally blow up in my face.

My stagehands handle scene changes well, if not a little slower than usual when Derek is around. I pitch in when I can and help them change out sets during the few seconds the curtain is closed. Overall, I’m pretty excited with our dress rehearsal. My mind reels with ideas for how I want to thank everyone with their awesome performance. We could go to pizza after this on the school’s credit card, or I could save myself from getting in trouble from wasting money and just bake everyone cookies or a cake for tomorrow.

I’m still high on the satisfaction of having a great rehearsal when the auditorium doors swing open and someone walks inside. Anxiety pierces through my chest, even before I know who has entered; usually it’s never good news.

Principal Walsh bounds toward the stage, a few papers gripped tightly in his chubby hand. My anxiety lessens. I had invited him to the dress rehearsal and had expected to see him earlier than now. He missed the whole thing.

He stops at the first row of seating, right at the front of the stage. “Where is Ricky Silvas?”

Ricky shuffles out from behind a box of props and steps off the stage, his calm expression not at all how I would look if the principal just asked for me by name. They huddle together and discuss something that’s on the paperwork Principal Walsh brought with him, but I can’t overhear the conversation over the commotion of everyone on stage, packing up and getting ready to leave.