Understudy

Tell me all your secrets, I think. I miss you and I want you to be mine. But all I say is, “Yeah, that’s all.”

The auditorium in Lawson High School grows a hundred times larger when every seat in the house has a person sitting in it. Butterflies rise up in my stomach and flicker around my chest, making me grateful that I haven’t eaten in a while. Greg comes up behind me and peeks over my shoulder as I peer out of a tiny opening in the side of the curtain and watch the audience as they shuffle around, taking their seats and talking amongst themselves.

“This is going to be fun,” he whispers.

Principal Walsh greets people he recognizes, walking from row to row waving and smiling at people as if he’s a sort of celebrity himself. My parents sit in the front row with all of the other cast member’s parents in the seats we reserved for them. Mom fusses with Dad’s shirt collar because it never seems to sit right around his thick neck. Aunt Barlow sits next to Mom, her shoulders straight and her arms resting in her lap. She could pass for a mannequin with the way she stares straight ahead, face stuck in a perpetual expression of disappointment.

Backstage is a different story. My cast members put finishing touches on their hair and makeup and a few of them read over their scripts even though I know everyone has their lines memorized. Even me, ironically enough. I push Greg out of my way so I can call the group together for a pre-play pep talk.

But Greg has other plans. He pins me to the wall, using both of his arms as barriers. “I’m proud of you, Wren. This play is going to kick ass.”

“Thank you.” I squirm and try to duck out of his arms. He stops me and lifts his hand to my face. I’m about to slap him, but then he rolls his eyes and says, “I’m just fixing your scar.” The fake plastic skin had come loose on my upper lip, probably from all the nervous sweat I keep plotting off with the back of my sleeve. “Thanks,” I say, letting him push it back on and vowing to slap some more skin glue on it before the show starts.

My stomach creeps into my throat when I see Derek watching us from across the stage. In a twisted and mean way, I’m glad he’s jealous right now. He’s the reason we can’t be together, not me.

But I so can’t be thinking about boys right now.

I call everyone together in the middle of the stage while I think up an inspiring speech. Principal Walsh’s voice carries through the auditorium as he announces that the show will begin in five minutes. My cast and stagehands sit on the floor around me, just like they did in the first few days of rehearsal.

“Okay guys,” I begin, shoving my hands in my pockets. I’m so freaking nervous that even my nerves are nervous. It feels like I drank an entire pot of coffee and then chased that with a dozen energy drinks. “This is the night we’ve worked hard for.” A few people whoop at that, as if I’ve already said something whoop-worthy. I really love these guys even though they can annoy me sometimes. I continue my speech, saying the words the moment they come to me. “Even though we lost our two most important cast members, and even when everything seemed to go wrong, we still pulled together and we’re going to put on a really great show tonight.”

Maggie raises her hand. “What if we vomit on stage from being so nervous?”

“Just picture everyone naked,” Greg says, getting a laugh out of everyone.

The house lights dim, signaling that it’s time to start. The roar from the audience goes silent and the butterflies in my stomach morph into fire-breathing dragons. Everyone takes their spot offstage, Derek taking his spot on top of the fake bridge that he’s about to use to contemplate suicide. A stagehand pulls open the curtains and the play begins.

Derek’s acting is beautiful. It’s as if he’s been doing it his whole life. So when he comes close to jumping off the bridge, I step into Gretchen’s shoes and beg him not to jump. I tell him all of her lines, but they come from the heart. Derek’s superb acting brings out the talent inside of me that I didn’t know I possessed.

When the first act is over and we dart off stage, Derek’s hand presses against the small of my back. His breath hits my ear. “You’re doing great,” he whispers. Chills prickle down my arms as I turn to tell him the same, but he’s gone. He has another scene to do with Maggie.

The play consumes me as the scenes continue and soon I forget I’m just a high school senior pretending to be Gretchen on stage for an audience. I’m in the play, feeling the emotions that flow through the dialogue, caring about my cast members as they portray their characters.

I’m completely lost in my role until the last scene.

The big kissing scene.

Derek says Jeremy’s lines and I say Gretchen’s lines but I don’t hear any of them. All I can focus on is the very real fact that I will be kissing Derek in just a few moments. Thank god for the lip smooshing technique.

My heart thuds in my chest as Derek wraps his arm around my waist. A tingle shoots through my toes and up into my belly as he pulls me close. He says something aloud—whatever Jeremy’s lines are, I can’t remember and I don’t hear a word of it because all I can focus on is the shine from his bottom lip as he runs his tongue across it in a split second. He pauses, his line finished. Instinct has me saying my next line, a super romantic one about how Gretchen has loved him from the moment they first met as children on a playground. Derek smiles, just like Jeremy’s supposed to do and then he does something that isn’t in the script: he winks at me.

His strong arms pull me to him. His neck tilts to the right and we lock eyes for the entire time it takes his lips to reach mine. I close my eyes and prepare for the smoosh.

Only the smoosh doesn’t happen.

Derek kisses me, really kisses me. His lips part as he draws me in, his fingers squeezing into my back as he pulls me into him, our bodies pressing together. My arms flail to gain my balance and I find myself wrapping them around his neck. His hands slide down my back, grabbing my hips as he lifts me off the ground. Oh god, Derek is kissing me and I’m kissing him back.

I never want it to stop.

The creaking sound of the curtains closing startles me out of my trance. A roar of applause sounds from the other side of the curtain. People shove into me as the cast members rush onto the stage to form a line across the front of it, just as we had rehearsed. My eyes open to see Derek staring back at me, his arms still cradling me as we stand in center stage, surrounded in an assembly of our cast.

The creaking starts again as the curtains open for the last time. Audience members stand and although I can’t really see them over the glare of the lights, I know my parents are out there watching me. Horrified, I drop my arms from Derek’s neck and turn to face the crowd.

Just as everyone had practiced, the cast grabs hands, lifts them in the air and takes a deep bow to our clapping audience. Derek holds my hand as if his life depends on it, not letting go after the bow, not letting go even after the person to my right lets go of my other hand. He’s got a smirk on his face the size of Texas. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

The moment the curtain snaps closed for the final time, I let out the breath I’ve been holding and yank my hand away from Derek’s conniving grip. “Let go of me,” I hiss, as I turn around and get swallowed up in the rush of my cast members as they hustle to get off stage through the side exit to where their family and friends await.

“Wren…” Derek’s voice trails off the further I get away. He could easily run up behind me, grab my arm and pull me into another kiss, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.