by Dani Jansen
“I told you I wouldn’t change anything.” Jenny wiped her hands on a paper napkin, crumpled it, and threw it on the tray in front of her.
“I know. It’s just that Mr. Evans is the director.” I left it at that, hoping Jenny could read between the lines.
Unfortunately, she was a little too good at reading between the lines. “So, everything you said to me basically meant nothing. Because he’s the director, not you.” Jenny said it with such contempt that it felt like she’d slapped me in the face.
I stared at the table. “I thought I could convince him to see how brilliant your designs are.”
I heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back. I looked up as Jenny stuffed the remains of her lunch into a tattered canvas lunch bag. She was so upset that the knuckles clutching the lunch bag turned white. “I guess we’re done, then,” she said.
“Wait. Jenny, your sketches are great. Can’t you just compromise a little?”
“No!” Jenny slammed her chair into the table, then marched off, the stomp of her heavy combat boots making so much noise that I could hear them over the din of the cafetorium.
I sat in shocked silence trying to gather my thoughts, staring into space without even blinking. This was bad. This was very bad. I had just lost our set painter. The set painter I’d assured Mr. Evans would be amenable to making some changes. What was I going to tell Mr. Evans? How was I going to find another set painter? I couldn’t go back to ask Ms. James for help. She’d want to know what had happened to Jenny. I didn’t want to explain to her that I’d messed up. Royally.
I rested my forehead on the edge of the table and concentrated on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. I had to stay calm. I was not allowed to have a panic attack in the caf. I snorted. The idea of having a panic attack in this crazy mass of humanity all chowing down on lunch struck me as funny. Then it seemed really sad, and I had to hold back a rogue tear.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned my head to the side to see who was touching me. I saw Jack’s worried face out of the corner of my eye. “You okay, Al?”
I turned my face back down to the floor. “No.”
Jack sat down beside me. He rubbed my back and quietly waited for me to lift my head. I was grateful for the silent companionship. When I felt like I was no longer in danger of crying, I straightened my spine and turned to face him. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. What’s up? Or do you not feel up to talking about it?” Jack tilted his head as he looked at me. His brown eyes were clear, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. I rested my head on his shoulder, glad to call this good, strong person my friend.
“It’s not worth talking about. I’ll sort it out. I was just having a moment.”
“Okay.” Jack sounded unconvinced. “But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“I know. Thanks, Jack.” I reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
“I think you need some cheering up. Why don’t I take you out for dinner and a movie tomorrow?”
“That sounds great. I could use a night off from the play.” I raised my head from his shoulder and smiled at him.
“It’s a date, then!” Jack grinned at me, then looked a little confused as he glanced across the room. “Is Becca waving a mug at us?”
“Oh no! I totally forgot! I left her with my tea. I’d better go get it before she throws it out. I’ll text you later, okay?”
Jack chuckled as he scooted his chair over so I could leave the table more easily. “Okay.”
I smiled and waved back at him as I crossed the caf to collect a mug of lukewarm tea from a friend who had kept guard over it despite her personal distaste for it. I couldn’t feel too sorry for myself when I had friends like this to watch my back. If only I could get them to fall in love, I would feel like I’d repaid some small part of what they’d done for me.
CHAPTER 13
“Have you ever come out to Jack? Does he know you’re gay?” Annie shoved dirty dishes into the dishwasher haphazardly. It was her turn to do cleanup after supper.
“Not exactly. Why does it matter?” I rearranged the plates and pulled out a couple of bowls that needed to be rinsed. Either I would make sure the dishwasher was loaded properly now or Mom would do it later when she got back from the gym. I figured I’d save her the hassle.
Annie laughed and shook her head. “Because you just agreed to go on a date with him!” She answered a text, even though she was now holding a full garbage bag in one hand. The weird liquid that always seems to accumulate on the bottom of garbage bags dripped onto the floor.
“I did not agree to a date. I agreed to hang out with a friend.” My sister could be clueless sometimes. She acted like she was more grown up than me, but she was still a kid in so many ways. She didn’t understand that boys and girls could be friends. She also didn’t seem to understand that chores go faster if you pause your texting.
“It’s dinner and a movie. That’s not a friend hangout. That’s a date.” Annie glanced up from her phone for a split second.
I was about to dismiss her comments again when I suddenly remembered Jack cheerily saying, “It’s a date, then!” But that was just something people said, right? Just a turn of phrase. Nothing more significant than that.
I took the garbage bag from her and tied it off. I was about to take it out when something other than the gross garbage water on the floor turned my stomach. I didn’t want Annie’s judgment, but I had to ask someone: “Annie, what do you think it means when someone says ‘It’s a date’?”
Annie rolled her eyes at me. “If that someone just asked you out for dinner and a movie, I’d say it means you’re going on a date.”
“Oh god.” The garbage bag hung in my hand. “Oh god. I can’t go on a date with Jack.”
“Obviously.” Annie took a dishcloth and swiped it across the kitchen table a couple times, spilling crumbs on the floor.
“I have to fix this.”
“And how exactly will you do that?” Annie wiped her hands on the kitchen towel. I noticed that she’d recently painted her short nails silver and purple. I liked the combo, though I’d never wear something so flashy myself.
“I don’t know.” I handed the bag of garbage back to Annie and contemplated the many ways I could get out of an accidental date. I could fake being sick, though that was only a temporary solution. Once the fake cold passed, I’d be expected to go on the fake date. I could tell Jack my parents wouldn’t let me date, but he knew my parents too well to fall for that. I could tell him I didn’t know that I was agreeing to a date, but that would be humiliating for both of us.
Annie interrupted my morose line of thought with a chipper reminder of just how messed up my life was. “At least there’s one plus side to all this. You aren’t worried about Jenny quitting the play anymore.”
I heaved a sigh. “Thanks, Annie. Can you shut up now?”
“You know, maybe this is karmic retribution for all those times you blackmailed me over the thing with Mom’s car.” Annie swung the garbage bag back and forth as she headed out to the garage. She had a major case of Schadenfreude.
I had no energy to argue with my sister. Annie could be such a brat, but I had bigger fish to fry. And in some ways, I had to thank her for alerting me to the accidental date. Imagine if I’d gone on the date thinking it was just a friend hang! The idea of Jack leaning in for a good-night kiss at the end of the evening made my stomach turn. He was a great guy. But he was a guy.
In the midst of all this self-pity, I thought of Becca. If she found out about the “date,” she would lose any progress she’d made. The other day, she’d smiled in Jack’s general direction! She could never know that Jack liked me that way. She would never get up the nerve to talk to him if she thought he was pining for me. Leave it to me to create a mess of this magnitude without even being aware I was doin
g it. Becca was right. I had to learn how to say no.
And then I had a brilliant idea. There was one way I could salvage this whole fiasco. “I’ll ask Becca to come with us,” I whispered to myself. It was just crazy enough to work. Jack would realize I didn’t think this was a date, and Becca would have a chance to spend time with Jack. It was the only way forward.
“Did you just mumble something about inviting Becca on your date?” Annie snorted. She’d come back from the garage without my noticing and was washing her hands in the kitchen sink. At least she had standards for her personal hygiene.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did. It’s the perfect solution. Jack will understand I don’t like him that way, and Becca will have to talk to him when it’s just the three of us.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Annie, it’s not like you’re some kind of expert on love. The last guy you dated borrowed your eyeliner without telling you, and you ended up with pink eye.” Annie glared at me. I didn’t need Annie’s approval. I could feel in my bones that this was going to be a turning point. I climbed the stairs to my room and called Becca.
“Hey. Are you free tomorrow night?”
CHAPTER 14
When Becca pulled up to my house, I suddenly felt I should have told her more about the night ahead. I’d been worried she wouldn’t agree to come if she knew we were meeting Jack, so I’d just asked her if she wanted to hang out. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to tell her when we “ran into” Jack at the kitschy diner down the street from the movie theater. Maybe my brief time playing a tree had prepared me to improvise?
Becca honked to tell me she was waiting. It wasn’t a good idea to stop Harvey once you got him going, so she idled in the driveway. To calm my racing heart, I tried some Lamaze breathing I’d learned from watching a trashy reality show about teen moms, but that only made me feel woozy. I steadied myself against the wall and caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. I looked even paler than usual, maybe from lack of oxygen. My light brown hair was behaving itself, thanks to a last-minute spritz of my sister’s favorite “dry oil” spray (whatever that was). The lipstick was definitely a mistake. You shouldn’t wear lipstick to a fake date. That had to be rule number one of fake dates. (There had to be rules. I mean, there must be other people who find themselves accidentally agreeing to dates with people they think are just friends. Right?) I swiped at the rosy color with the back of my hand. Most of it came off, and I hoped what was left looked like my natural lip color.
As I climbed into Harvey’s passenger seat, Becca said, “You look nice. Did you dress up just for me?”
Although I knew she was joking, I felt a little like I’d been caught out. “What? These old things?” I managed something that sounded more like a cackle than a laugh while pointing at my favorite pair of ripped jeans and the layered tops I’d carefully picked out. A date meant dressing up. I had purposely not dressed up. But maybe for me I looked a bit dressy, since I didn’t usually bother “layering” anything. There was that woozy feeling again.
“You look nice too,” I said to distract myself and Becca. It was true. Becca didn’t think she was going on a fake (or even real) date, so she was dressed in her favorite baby-doll dress and opaque red tights. Curls escaped her bun in a casual way that most people would spend hours trying to accomplish, but which Becca just let happen. I liked that she’d used a little sparkly eye shadow to bring out her brown eyes. Jack would be a fool not to notice how beautiful this girl was.
“Thanks.” Becca grinned. “You never know when I might run into a cute boy, right?”
I definitely cackled this time, nerves tightening my vocal cords so that I sounded like a pubescent boy whose voice was cracking. “Ha! So true, so true.”
“Okaaay,” Becca drawled. “You’re acting weird. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great! Shouldn’t we get going? Don’t want to miss the movie.”
“Aren’t we grabbing dinner first?” Becca asked as she shifted Harvey into drive and pulled out onto the road.
“Yes! It’s just that if we’re late having dinner, then we’ll be late for the movie.” Even to my own ears, I sounded stilted. There was a reason I’d been asked to produce the play instead of star in it. I could not act. I needed an excuse not to talk anymore. “Wanna listen to Coldplay Live?”
Becca didn’t even answer, just tapped the glove compartment to indicate where I’d find the CD. I fished it out, popped it in, and turned the volume up so loud that we couldn’t possibly talk. Becca guided Harvey through busy suburban Friday night traffic as I chewed on my thumb. What was I going to say when Jack showed up at the diner? Hey there, old pal. I didn’t actually want to go on a date with you, so I tricked my best friend into coming so you could see how awesome she is. I had the feeling this was one of those scenarios where the truth was not the best policy. Maybe the best policy was feigning food poisoning. Given that Becca was my driver, though, any hasty exit on my part would involve her also having to leave.
I tasted something salty and metallic. I looked at my thumb, which was bleeding. I pinched the skin around the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding. It was a welcome relief. It gave me something to focus on, a pinpoint of sharp physical pain that distracted me from the sweeping mental turmoil I had been experiencing only moments before. Unfortunately, the distraction was short-lived. As Becca pulled Harvey into the parking lot of the Sunshine Diner, the anxiety came crashing back. I spotted Jack’s father’s red sedan already parked in front of the diner. I wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse that he was already here.
Becca parked Harvey, turned off the motor, patted the dashboard once, and opened her door. She paused as she was about to climb out, giving me a weird look. I still hadn’t even taken off my seatbelt, so I pressed the release button. I paused with my hand on the door handle. Maybe I should tell Becca the truth now. I opened my mouth to say something, but I waited too long. Becca gave her door a final shove with her hip, just to make sure it was properly closed. I took a deep breath, pulled myself out of the car, and followed Becca through the diner’s chrome and glass door.
As we entered the restaurant a wall of noise hit us: families squabbling, friends laughing, servers shouting orders to the kitchen. The Sunshine Diner had reproduced every detail of a fifties diner, from the jukebox to the checkerboard tiles to the red-vinyl booths. We stood inside the doors, and Becca waited for a server to come seat us while I scanned the room for Jack. I spotted him in a secluded booth at the back. It was the quietest part of the restaurant, perfect for an intimate date. Thankfully, it was a double-wide booth, so there would be room for all three of us. Time to make this happen. I waved at Jack and pulled on Becca’s purse strap to get her attention. “Look who’s here! Let’s go sit with Jack.”
I made my way through the busy diner, hoping Becca was following me. As I got closer to the booth, the confusion on Jack’s face became clearer. His smile faltered. He looked back and forth between me and Becca. He was wearing a green T-shirt that showed off his shoulders. Jack wasn’t a big guy, but he had the broad shoulders of someone who could have been an athlete if he’d wanted to be. His normally haphazard short hair was carefully combed. Jack had made an effort to look nice for our date. The thought made my stomach clench. I pinched the bloody hangnail, using the pain to keep me moving forward.
“Hey, Jack!” I slid into the booth before he could get up to hug or, worse yet, kiss me. I scooched over so Becca would know to sit next to me.
“Hey.” Jack looked from me to Becca, who was hovering at the edge of the booth. I patted the red-vinyl upholstery next to me to encourage her to sit down. Reluctantly, she joined us. We sat in awkward silence. I knew it was my job to make this work, but I had greatly overestimated my improvisational skills.
I was flooded with a deep sense of relief when our waitress showed up to tell us the specials and
give us our menus. I didn’t hear a word she said, but I held on to the menu she handed me like it was a life preserver. I certainly felt like someone who was drowning. When I chanced a look at Jack and Becca, I noticed that neither of them had opened their menus. They were both just staring at me. I needed to break the ice.
“I love their onion rings, but I don’t want a whole order for myself. Anyone want to share an order?” I saw Jack’s shoulders sag as he realized that this wasn’t a mistake. Becca was here to stay. I felt another pang of guilt twist my stomach, but I couldn’t think of a single thing I could say that would save his hurt feelings. I could only comfort myself by hoping that he would thank me later when he fell in love with Becca.
Jack opened his menu, and I turned my attention to Becca. She wasn’t just staring at me. She was out-and-out glaring. When I turned back to my menu, she stomped on my foot. I gritted my teeth. I deserved that.
“I was thinking we could catch the early showing of the new Wes Anderson movie,” I said. I looked first at Jack, then at Becca. I needed to make sure they understood I meant all three of us. From Jack’s almost imperceptible frown and Becca’s angry scowl, I felt pretty sure they both took my meaning.
“Sure,” Jack mumbled.
Becca said nothing. I was again grateful to our waitress when she showed up to take our orders. It was like she was an old hand at saving teenagers from awkward third-wheel dates. Maybe she was. Despite her perky ponytail and bobby socks, she looked to be somewhere in her forties. I focused on her kindly face as I ordered the veggie burger with a side of onion rings. I breathed a sigh of relief when Jack ordered a cheeseburger and Becca quietly asked for a club sandwich.
As we waited for our meals to come, Jack tried to build a house out of sugar packets while Becca took out her phone and scrolled through Tumblr. I pinched my injured thumb again and considered a list of possible conversation starters, topics on which we would all have opinions:
