“Why haven’t you joined the drama club before now?”
“Because to be honest, I really hate acting.”
“Then what was all that?” He nodded at the script I held.
“I was just reading the words.”
“You’re very familiar with Anne of Green Gables.”
“Yes, I’m a huge fan. Except I hate the third movie. They messed that one up royally.”
He smiled. “I agree. But that’s beside the point. Jill, you’re a natural. I’d like to put you on my short list to play the role of Anne. I have another round of auditions on Monday and I can’t let those students down, but after I’m finished with those, I’ll give you a call and let you know if you’re still in the running. Okay?”
I tried to swallow, but it was impossible. You can’t swallow when your whole body has gone numb. “I beg your pardon?”
“The lead, Jill. I’m strongly considering you for the lead. Although, I still can’t understand why you say you hate acting.”
“You have to do it in front of people,” I tried to explain.
“Yes, that generally is helpful.”
“And you could mess up. It’s like live TV—there are no do-overs.”
“This is true.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at me. “If this bothers you so much, why did you audition?”
“It was a dare.” I could say that much without betraying Bruce’s confidence, couldn’t I?
“I see. And did the dare extend to getting the part?”
“I think I was just supposed to audition.”
“And now that you’ve nearly landed the role, what does that mean for your bet?”
“Well, I won.”
Mr. Bell smiled. “If you want to walk out that door and never come back, I’d understand. But if I were you, I wouldn’t want to just win the bet—I’d want to smash it to the ground and grind it into powder. And you can do that by accepting the role and doing a fantastic job with it.”
It would be very nice to grind Bruce into powder—er, the bet, that is. I nodded slowly. “Can I think about it for a little bit? I can’t make a decision like this on the spur of the moment.”
“Of course, and I do have those other students to audition. Why don’t you put it on the back burner for now, and then we can talk about it in detail on Monday. No sense in pressuring yourself. And who knows—maybe someone else will walk in here and wow me in the meantime.”
I’d keep my fingers crossed for that.
I nodded a few times, thanked him, and somehow managed to get out the door without fainting. That was a miracle all by itself.
“You got the lead?” Amanda took both my hands in hers and started jumping up and down.
“Shh!” I glanced around the school courtyard. Almost everyone else had gone home, but Dylan and Amanda had stuck around to give me some moral support. That was nice, but I hadn’t expected them to be so loud about it. “I wasn’t offered the part. Mr. Bell said I was on the short list. He’s got some other students auditioning Monday.”
The grin on Dylan’s face could have flagged a passing spacecraft. “I knew it! I knew you’d be awesome.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to take the part.”
Amanda dropped my hands like they’d suddenly burned her. “What? Why not?”
I sat down on the concrete retaining wall that edged the walkway. “It’s just not me, okay? You know that. When have you ever looked at me and said to yourself, ‘That girl should be on stage’?”
“Never, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be you.” Amanda sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Come on, Jill. You can do this—I know you can.”
“Can do it and want to do it are very different.”
Dylan sat on my other side and nudged me with his elbow. I was now a Jill sandwich. “You wouldn’t make me do a play with Heather Thomson, would you? I heard that as of yesterday, she had the top spot for Anne, and I was a shoo-in for Gilbert.”
“What’s wrong with Heather?” I asked.
Dylan didn’t answer, so Amanda did it for him. “She’s got a major crush on Dylan. She says that the fates have determined that they should be in this play together as a way of bringing them closer as a star-aligned couple.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “She said that?”
Amanda nodded. “Yes. She has some astrology charts and all kinds of things. She was showing them to me this morning and told me how Dylan’s planets are perfectly aligned for him to fall in love with her the very night the play opens.”
I glanced over at Dylan. His ears were bright pink. “That’s not so bad, is it, falling madly in love with someone? I mean, the planets agree and everything.”
“Oh, shut up.” He pushed off the wall and turned to face us. “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? Let’s go get a soda.”
“Heather’s cute,” I said to Amanda. “I mean, now that I think about it. She’s got a great nose, and a pretty smile, and doesn’t she volunteer at the animal shelter? That means she’s nice.”
“Listen, I don’t want to talk about it.” Dylan grabbed each of us by one hand and pulled us to our feet. “Soda. I’ll buy. And if you don’t want one, I’ll get you a candy bar, okay? But no more Heather. Please.”
I was about to mention her again, just to irritate him, but then I noticed something in his eyes. He really didn’t want to talk about it—like, really. What was going on? His gaze darted over to Amanda, and suddenly, I understood. He had a crush on my best friend! That was so awesome. I couldn’t think of a nicer guy for her. Sure, he was a nerd, but he would take really good care of her. Did she know? Should I tell her?
I put on the brakes before I could get too far down those railroad tracks. It wasn’t my job to say anything. My meddling had already done enough damage, and I wasn’t about to start messing things up for Amanda. I clamped my mouth shut and decided to stay out of it for once. Dylan didn’t want me talking—I wouldn’t talk.
My mom wasn’t home yet when I got there, so I put a thawed frozen casserole in the oven and set the timer for an hour. It was the least I could do—she’d spent an entire day making like thirty casseroles and filling up our deep freezer so we wouldn’t starve to death. Then I sat down with my homework.
That is, I tried to sit down with my homework, and it’s the thought that counts, right? My thoughts kept drifting, and I couldn’t focus. When I was at school or with my friends, it was easy to forget about everything going on at home. But when I walked through the front door, it all came rushing back to me. It’s like I was living in two alternate realities, like I was a different person in each place. Now I couldn’t get my parents off my mind.
I stood up and wandered through the house. My mom hadn’t done much of anything to change the décor now that my dad was no longer living with us. She hadn’t taken down his pictures or anything. I was glad about that. If she had, it would feel like she was shutting him out of our lives, and I didn’t think he deserved that. Sure, they were having problems, but it’s not like he was an evil beast.
I smiled when I stood in front of the picture of him and me at the daddy/daughter date night in fifth grade. We were dressed up like Sonny and Cher, and we won a prize for our costumes. In the picture, I was holding this dumb little plastic trophy and grinning like I was Miss America or something. I still had that trophy somewhere to remember that night—it had been awesome. Funny how just looking at a picture could bring back all those emotions.
If pictures could bring back emotions. . .
I went into my mom’s room and dug through the trunk at the foot of the bed. Yep, there it was, right where I thought. My parents’ wedding album was one of those puffy satin-covered things everyone made in the eighties and nineties. Kind of dorky, but sweet in a nostalgic way. It was edged with lace leftover from my mom’s wedding dress. I flipped back the front cover and looked at the first picture. They were so young, but they looked so in love. I wondered if
they’d had any idea back then what their lives would bring them, and if they still would have looked so happy.
I closed the lid on the trunk and carried the photo album downstairs. Where should I put it . . . With a smile, I set it on the coffee table, open to the first page. If pictures could bring back memories, I wanted to remind my mom what it felt like to love my dad.
Chapter Twelve
I spent the whole night having bad dreams about being up on stage, forgetting all my lines, and the entire student body laughing at me. By the time I woke up the next morning, my mind was made up—I wasn’t going to do the play. It wasn’t worth that kind of stress. I mean, I had to keep my grades up for college, not to mention write my column every week. The entire balance of my universe could crumble if I added even one more thing to my plate.
And this is what I told myself all weekend.
I could have just admitted that I was a big chicken and was scared to humiliate myself, but I liked all my other excuses instead. In fact, I thought they were so awesome that by the time I got to school on Monday, I was ready to go tell them to Mr. Bell.
I walked down the hall, totally prepared to go in there and ask him to take my name off the short list. But then I passed Bruce in the hallway. He was leaning up against the lockers, his arm slung around Gina’s shoulders, looking very football-ish and smug. I thought I’d be able to duck past without him seeing me, but no such luck.
“Hey, Dr. Jill,” he called out. “How’s it going?”
I raised one hand in sort of a wave. “Fine. Just fine.”
“Remember, I’ve got my eye on you.”
Oh, so it wasn’t enough that he was going to pester me through email—he was going to bother me at school, too? Or actually, it started at school, and then went to email, and now it was back at school. Whatever. The point was, he was starting to take over my brain, and I didn’t like it.
“I know,” I replied, picking up my pace.
I reached the drama room door and paused, my hand on the knob. What was it Mr. Bell had said about crushing that bet? I could just put a checkmark on my list and call it good, but that look on Bruce’s face—that “I’m going to win” and “you’re not good enough” look—needed to be wiped off once and for all. If I actually starred in the play and did a great job, it would accomplish just that.
But what was I saying? That meant getting up in front of the whole world and letting them see my vulnerable side, the side I kept very carefully tucked away from everyone. And I do mean everyone, even including Amanda. I was kind of a celebrity at school, after all, and I had an image to protect. No one would trust me to give out advice if they suspected I didn’t have it all together myself. And when it came to Amanda—she looked up to me so much, I couldn’t let her down.
Someone came up behind me and wanted to get in the room, but I was blocking the door. “Sorry,” I mumbled, taking a step back so they could go in.
If I did this play . . . if I was Anne of Green Gables . . . Bruce would have to shut up. I didn’t think for a minute that winning this advice-giving bet would get him off my back—he’d been pestering me for years, and I didn’t see it stopping any time soon. But rocking the play just might do it.
If only it wasn’t so scary.
Finally, I took a deep breath and marched into the room. “Mr. Bell, I’ve decided that I would like to be considered for the part.”
Mr. Bell leaned back and laced his fingers across his stomach as he regarded me. “Good for you, Jill. I’ll have the cast list posted tomorrow by noon.”
I smiled back. “Thanks. I’ll look forward to it.” The weird thing was, I actually meant it.
“Of course you’re going to get the part,” Amanda said. It was like déjà vu from Friday, except this time, I was actually hoping that I would. I know—I’m a little neurotic. Can’t make up my mind.
“It would be so much fun to see you get over your stage fright,” Dylan added. He reached over and stole a fry from my tray. I didn’t care—they were sort of soggy anyway.
“Yeah, well, I just want to rub Bruce’s nose in it.” I folded my arms and rested them on the table. “It’s not like I’m going to turn into a drama diva or something.”
“On behalf of drama divas everywhere, be nice,” Dylan warned. “You never know when the bug will strike. It could be months or years down the road, but you’ll wake up from a dream, sweat pouring down your face, screaming, ‘I must return to the stage!’ You’ll never escape it once it’s in your blood.”
“Not likely.” I decided not to mention the fact that yes, I really was dreaming about this, but it was to keep me off the stage, not to put me on it.
“Did Mr. Bell say what time he’s posting the list?” Amanda asked.
“By noon. I’m just going to try not to think about it.”
“Good luck with that. I know how you worry about stuff.” Amanda shrugged. “But as long as you’re not thinking about it, want to go see a movie tonight?”
“Sure. Dylan?”
“The chance to hang out with the two of you and watch you swoon over some muscle-bound dude with no brain in a movie with a ridiculous plot I can mock endlessly while mocking you endlessly? You bet. I’m there.”
I hadn’t done my more difficult task for the day yet. It’s not because I was putting it off—it was more of a logistics thing. I had to find an old friend and apologize for something that happened way back in fourth grade. And that was trickier than I’d thought it was going to be at first. A lot of the kids I went to fourth grade with had either moved or were going to one of the other high schools in town, and I was also having a hard time coming up with anything to apologize for.
I felt like a stalker, lurking in the halls waiting for Beth Adams to walk by. She was my only likely candidate. And she was one of the most popular girls in our school, and she was always surrounded by a cloud of fans and admirers. I always felt shorter and less cute when she was around.
I knew she was drawing close when I saw the crowd of students part a little to let her through. It had to, or people would get trampled when her cloud passed by.
“Beth?” I tried calling out to get her attention. That didn’t work, so I took a step closer. “Beth?”
She paused and looked at me. “Yes?”
“Um, hi. Listen, I just wanted to apologize for taking all the purple paper during our art project in fourth grade.”
The look she gave me perfectly mirrored everything I was feeling—why on earth was I apologizing for something that happened so long ago when we never even spoke to each other now? When she answered, she spoke slowly, like she couldn’t figure out how to respond. “I don’t even remember that, so you’re good. It’s Jill, right? The newspaper-writer-person?”
I nodded.
“Okay. Well, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”
She moved on, and so did her cloud. Two seconds later, they all burst into laughter, and my cheeks began to flame. The purple-paper incident really had been all I’d been able to come up with, and now I felt like an utter and complete loser.
When I got home from school that day, Mom was gone—again. This time, she left money for pizza, along with a note.
I don’t mind if you look at old pictures, but please put them away when you’re done.
Rats—leaving the album on the coffee table hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Had she even looked at it? I snorted. Really, what had I expected? That she’d see it, burst into tears, trail her fingers along my father’s grainy face, and then run for the telephone to beg him to come back? Well, that’s what happens in movies, but not at my house, apparently. Here we just put stuff back where it belonged. Except for dads—those didn’t get put back.
Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday morning, I sweated through economics and Spanish, my gaze flitting to the clock every five minutes or so. I was in a crazy, mixed-up state of dread and anticipation. I couldn’t look at the cast list. I just couldn’t. Part of me hoped that someone bett
er had come along and stolen the role right out from under me, and part of me hoped with all my heart that I’d gotten it. It didn’t help my nerves at all that people kept talking about the play and speculating about it. Heather was still pretty sure the part was hers, but I didn’t know how much of that was ego and how much was confidence that she’d done a good job in her audition.
I was on my way back from my long walk to my locker when Dylan and Amanda came running up to me. Amanda was bouncing up and down, the way she always does when she’s excited or it’s lasagna day in the cafeteria or her hair turned out cute. She grabbed my arm. “You’re Anne! You’re Anne of Green Gables!”
My heart froze and leaped at the same time. “And did you get Gilbert?” I asked Dylan.
I shouldn’t have asked, really—it was written all over his face.
“I’m so happy for both of you! This is going to be the best play ever.” Amanda grabbed both our hands and forced us into a weird little ring-around-the-rosie right there in the middle of the hall. Dylan went along with it, and I shrugged. I guessed it was time to succumb to all sorts of public humiliation now.
When Amanda finally let us go, I looked up and down the hall. I wanted to find Bruce so I could tell him that I’d just squashed his little bet into the dust. For once, I was really disappointed that he was nowhere in sight.
“Guess what!” Amanda caught up to me in the courtyard after school. “So, I was kind of bummed that you and Dylan are both in the play and I’m not.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. Would this mess up their budding romance? If Dylan was spending all his time in rehearsal, he wouldn’t have any time to spend with her.
Take My Advice Page 8
