I make my way around the stage and down the stairs at the right. “Is everything okay?” I ask as I encroach on what now seems like a serious conversation. “I’m sorry you missed rehearsal, Principal Walsh.”
“Everything is not okay,” he says, handing me the top paper. I don’t have time to read it before he spits out the next words. “Lawson’s star basketball player just cost himself the playoffs, and the play.”
“I don’t—what do you mean?” I say as that all-encompassing anxiety starts to roll over me again. My mouth is so dry I’m not even sure how I still breathe.
Ricky opens his mouth as if he wants to speak, but doesn’t say anything. Principal Walsh says it for him, and seems a bit happy to do it. “Ricky has failed history and biology. He will not be participating in any extracurricular activities for the remainder of the year.” He turns on his heel and then adds over his shoulder, “That includes prom.”
I rush after the principal. “You can’t do this,” I say as I grab his arm to stop him. He looks a little pissed off that I touched him but I can’t seem to function normally right now. Worry and anger consume me. “He’s the lead actor for this play. What am I supposed to do without him?”
Principal Walsh shrugs. His moustache looks like an ugly caterpillar dancing above his lip. “Might I suggest using his understudy?”
I should have known. I probably did, in some small and dark recess of my mind. The two main characters always have an understudy. If I was the understudy for Gwen, then it only made sense as to who would be Ricky’s understudy. But I swallow myself in denial as I march down the darkened hallways of an empty school, straight to the theater arts classroom.
Straight to the box of crap Aunt Barlow left behind. I hold my breath as I shift through the extra scripts, loose papers and a roll of zebra print duct tape. I find rumpled up sheets of paper that were once taped to the wall back when I actually cared about this play. The last time I looked at this, I only sought out my own name. Now, my finger slides down the registrar, looking, hoping and waiting.
Jeremy’s Understudy … Derek Hayes
I rock back on my heels, clenching the paper in my fist. When Aunt Barlow was the theater arts teacher, she had many posters on her walls that talked about theater. I’ve read them all dozens of times and now I’m thinking the one poster she desperately needed, she didn’t have…
Murphy’s Law of Directing a Play: Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
I sit cross-legged on the floor of the empty classroom for a good ten minutes. No one stops by looking for me, but I don’t really expect any visitors. Rehearsal is over so everyone has gone home. All the other cast members need to worry about is remembering their lines and showing up on time. They don’t have to stress out about how we’re missing our lead actor. They don’t have a college acceptance letter being held hostage until the end of the play. They don’t have to go talk to the one guy they’ve been avoiding all week. I do.
I almost expect another car to be in Derek’s driveway when I arrive half an hour later. My imagination might even go a little crazy and picture an elaborate scenario where I show up unexpectedly and run straight into Derek and Lexie, making out on the hood of her car. But the only cars there belong to his parents. Which means Derek isn’t even home. Ugh.
I stare at my phone in the cup holder of Mom’s Corolla, knowing that all I need to do is call him and ask him to be in the play tomorrow. It would be an easy task if only things between us weren’t so complicated. For some reason, I feel like I need to see him in person to talk about the play. I need to be near him, with him—need to get closure or whatever it is my heart needs to be able to move on from this.
However…I can’t deny the extreme feeling of relief that falls over me now that I know he isn’t home. Now I can go home without having to see Derek and still be able to pat myself on the back for trying—I mean, I drove to his house and everything! That’s what I’ll tell Principal Walsh tomorrow. That will be my excuse for when I make Ricky perform in the play even though he’s not supposed to. Excitement ripples through me as I sit in the middle of the road near Derek’s driveway, my foot resting on the brake. Everything will work out just fine. Ricky can still be in the play even though he’s technically not supposed to participate in school activities. I just won’t tell Principal Walsh—I’ll just have Ricky walk out onstage during the performance. What’s Principal Walsh going to do? March onto the stage in the middle of the play and demand that Ricky leave? In front of hundreds of people who paid money for a ticket? Yeah right.
I don’t need Derek and I’m so glad I didn’t emb
arrass myself by running into him tonight.
Finally snapping back to reality, I put the car in reverse so I can get the hell out of here. Unfortunately, another car is behind me now, probably wondering why I’m reversing in the middle of a neighborhood street. With a sigh, I pull into Derek’s driveway to wait for the car to pass.
It doesn’t pass. It pulls right next to me.
“Of-freaking-course,” I mutter under my breath as Derek steps out of his car and rests his hands on the roof of my car on the passenger side. I roll down the window and try to wipe the sheepish grin off my face, but to no avail.
“…What’s up?” he asks. I swear to god he’s got the most cocky smile I’ve ever seen right now. He’s caught me trying to sneak past his house without him knowing. He has my entire self-esteem in his hands right now. And he knows it.
“Um…” I say, cocking my head to the left and gnawing on my bottom lip as I await for my genius brain to come up with a brilliant excuse. A few seconds go by and my brain fails me. My fingers tap nervously on the steering wheel.
Derek pulls off his beanie and adjusts it to get the hair out of his face. He leans down and rests his arms on the windowsill. “Did you come to apologize for being a big old jerk the other day?”
“Excuse you? I wasn’t a jerk.”
He lifts one eyebrow and squishes his lips to the side. “That’s arguable.”
I sigh. “I came here because I need your help.”
His face softens even though I can barely look at it. He’s so freaking gorgeous, my stomach does flip flops every time I glance in his direction. He sighs too, but it’s not a sigh of resentment like mine was, it’s a sigh of defeat. “I’m here for you, Wren. Whatever you need.”
Hearing those words sends painful daggers through my heart. Why does he have to be so sweet and caring and cute? Why does he have to be both everything I’ve ever wanted and someone I can’t have?
I swallow and reach for the crumpled paper in my passenger seat. I hand him the cast list with his name on it. “Ricky can’t perform tomorrow. I need you to fill in as his understudy.”
He flinches for half a second before regaining his cool composure. “Sure thing, boss. Is that all you need?”