On the Loose (A Katie Parker Production)

by Jenny B. Jones

  I nod and mumble my agreement. But my focus is on Trevor. And the blonde onstage with him.

  I nudge Jeremy. “Should a mother and son be that close? This isn’t incestuous Cinderella.”

  “They’re just going over lines. Trevor’s a pro. I’ve seen him in dozens of plays.” He moves closer to me. “Are you jealous?”

  “No, definitely not. I just want this show to be perfect, you know?”

  Jeremy grins and shakes a finger in my face. “You’re jealous. Is there something going on between you and Jackson?”

  If there was, it was killed the night Maxine broke out her bullhorn. “No. I guess we were talking for a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s as far as it’s gonna go.”

  “Awww. Katie got her heart broken.” Jeremy pats me on the shoulder.

  “No, I didn’t,” I snap. “We were just friends. No big deal.” I watch the blonde giggle and toss her hair. I thought I was different. That maybe he really liked me. Sure he has a total player past, but I could’ve changed all that.

  At least I don’t have any scenes with him today. My goal is to get out of this practice without talking to him. Not that he would talk to me anyway. But he does still have my plant.

  A few minutes later Chelsea shows up in all her designer denim glory. At the sight of Trevor onstage her eyes narrow. “Should he be that close to her?”

  “Hi, Chelsea.” A blush spreads on Jeremy’s cheeks. “You look nice today.”

  She spares him a glance. “Thanks. Hey, Katie, we missed you at school today. And I just want you to know, I will be keeping my purse with me at all times. So don’t get any ideas.” She clutches her Coach handbag and sashays off toward Mrs. Hall.

  I turn to Jeremy, my eyes stinging. “See, I got accused of stealing these shoes, but I—”

  “I know. Anyone who knows you doesn’t believe you did it.”

  I sniff. “Thanks, Jeremy. That means a lot to me. Hey, you should come hang out with us at church sometime.” I swallow a gasp. Did I really just invite someone to church? What is wrong with me? God and I are so not getting along. I can’t invite people to church. They’ll think I’m . . . a believer. And I’ve got it together. Girls who get suspended definitely do not have it together.

  “Yeah, I might try that. Chelsea goes, too, right? To your church, I mean.”

  Oh, boys are sooo stupid. Number one, she’s totally out of his league. And number two, his league is so much better than hers. That girl is a witch. Had she gotten the part of the evil stepmother, there would be zero acting necessary.

  “Yeah, she goes sometimes.” It’s my turn to pat his arm. “As do a lot of other girls from In Between.” Girls with personalities. Girls who won’t squash you like a bug between their French manicured fingernails. Oh, well, the invitation is already out. No sense in taking it back. “Just think about it and let me know. We meet this Wednesday night.” And if you have any Jesus questions, you’ll have to ask Frances because I sure don’t know the answers.

  “I can’t this Wednesday.” Jeremy’s face falls. “Our house got pretty messed up last month in the tornado. We’re moving from our grandma’s place into a shelter.”

  The shock and pity registers on my face before I can catch it.

  “No, it’s okay. We were renting the house that got trashed, and the owner isn’t gonna rebuild. But we lost almost everything. It’s just gonna take a while for my mom to regroup.” He pulls his mouth into a smile. “Maybe a week or two. No big deal. We actors love our drama, right?”

  “Right.” But it’s not. It’s so wrong. All this time I hadn’t thought about the fact I actually go to school with people whose homes were damaged or destroyed in the tornado. I’ve gotten so caught up in my new life of comfort and security. But I know what it’s like to have nothing, to not have a place to call your own.

  Okay, God. I’ll go on the spring break mission campout. But it’s for Jeremy. Not for me . . . . and not for you.

  At four o’clock rehearsal begins. Chelsea does her opening scene alone, then Jeremy and I enter for scene two.

  We sisters trade insults and jabs at the lowly Cinderella. Though it’s all in the script, I hurl my venom at Chelsea like it’s straight from my own heart. And it feels awesome. I especially love the part where I get to step on her toe.

  “Ow!” Chelsea rubs her foot. “That was too hard,” she growls.

  I smile. “Just following the script.”

  Thirty minutes later we begin the ball scene. While Cinderella glides across the stage in her prince’s arms, her two ugly stepsisters stand with their mother in a corner. My script says I am to glare.

  Mrs. Hall calls from below. “Excellent facial expression, Katie! We can feel your anger. Very real.”

  Mid-waltz a Beyoncé song blasts from Cheslea’s pocket. “Oh, gotta get that. Hello?”

  With a collective groan from the cast, practice screeches to a stop.

  “Chelsea, get off the phone. You know the rules—no phones during rehearsals.”

  Mrs. Hall charges onstage.

  Cindrella holds up a hand. “This is important. I have to take this call.” And she exits stage left.

  Our teacher looks around and her eyes connect with mine. “Katie—” She holds out a script. “Read for Chelsea until she gets back. Take it from the top of the waltz. Miss Parker, I do mean now. Don’t just stand there.”

  Gulp.

  On heavy legs, I move from the back of the crowd to the front. Next to Trevor. From my peripheral vision I see him hold out his arms.

  “You’re gonna have to look at me if we’re going to waltz.”

  My head shoots up, and I’m greeted with his knowing, wry grin. My brain shifts into overdrive, desperate to analyze his expression. Is he laughing at me? Is he being kind? Is all forgiven?

  I lay my right hand in his and settle my left on his shoulder.

  Mrs. Hall consults with another cast member, and I take advantage of the moment. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for Friday night. I had no idea that was going to happen.”

  He nods, and I watch his dark hair move over his forehead. “Could’ve been a better night. I had big plans for us.”

  I blink. “You did?”

  “Maybe another time.”

  Wait, I want to cry. What does that mean? Tell me!

  “Sorry people at school are all over you. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  I nod. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

  The music starts and he lures me into a waltz.

  “Chelsea’s boyfriend got pretty bent out of shape over it.”

  My feet stumble and Trevor pulls me in tighter. “Yeah, I guess. Don’t worry about it though.”

  He laughs. “I’m not worried about him at all.”

  Trevor twirls me around and draws me back. I was so close. This strong, tall, hulking piece of yum could’ve been mine.

  “I still have your plant, you know. With the science fair coming up, I think you’re gonna need that.”

  “Oh, yeah. My plant.” I hope no one drowned him in Bud Light. “Maybe you could bring him to school tomorrow?”

  “Or you could come and get it.”

  Trevor delivers his next few lines as we dance. Clutching the script with my hand on his shoulder, I read for Chelsea. This so should’ve been my part. I was robbed.

  We continue to dance as the other cast members react to Cinderella and her prince.

  “You want me to come to your locker and get my fern?”

  “No. I thought maybe you could ride home with me after school, and we could get your plant. Then I’ll take you home.” He grins. “And you can assure your parents my mom will be home.”

  I look out into the seating area and see Maxine dancing her own solo waltz in the aisle, waving her wand through the air. “Let me get back to you on that. I don’t want my foster grandma to come after me again. Next time she’d probably bring the fire department. You have no idea what she’s capable of.”


  Trevor follows my stare. “I think I have an idea.” With toes pointed, Maxine leaps from side to side. “You just let me know tomorrow. I could bring your fern to school, but . . .” He shrugs. “You don’t want to risk it getting hurt, right?”

  Charlie and I do have a massive grade on the line here. “No . . . I really wouldn’t want that to risk that.” My heart thrills at the thought of Trevor wanting to see me. The In Between Community Church sings a “Hallelujah Chorus” in my head.

  Is it possible? Could things actually be turning around?

  Chapter 30

  In English class Wednesday morning I give the girl next to me a nudge. “Hey, do you have a pencil I can borrow?”

  “Don’t expect to get it back, Sarah. Katie tends to keep the things she borrows.” Behind me Angel Nelson cracks herself up. I shoot her a withering look. Right now I wish I had some of the superpowers of the X-Men. Freeze Angel over. Cause a wind tunnel to carry her out of my sight. Use my Wolverine blade fingers to give her purple Mohawk a buzz cut.

  “Nice to see you could make it to school today. I heard you took Monday off.”

  I swivel to face my nemesis. “That’s right. I did. And what a horrible day it was. I hung out at home, took a nap, went shopping, got some ice cream, watched some movies. I don’t know how I got through it all, but I did.” I give her my oh-you-silly-little-girl laugh. “I guess I should not steal more often because it sure was a good time.”

  “Your good times are only beginning,” she spits.

  I heave a sigh. “You bore me, Angel.” I stand up and grab a hall pass.

  On my way out the door, I hear Angel’s psycho voice. “You won’t be bored for long.”

  I quietly shut the classroom door and head down the hall toward the bathroom. Something about getting that close to Angel makes me want to wash my hands.

  “Don’t tell me you got sent to the office again.”

  Trevor stands at the end of the hall. How does he do that? Sometimes it seems like that boy is everywhere I am. He lounges against the wall like he owns the place. His arms are crossed, and his playful grin sends a tiny tremor tickling down my spine.

  “Hey.” I smile back, desperate to play it cool. But seriously, how lucky am I this boy is talking to me again? Flirting with me again? Yet here we are—face to face, hall pass to hall pass.

  “I waited for you after rehearsals in the parking lot yesterday. I thought you were gonna come to my house and get your plant.”

  I shrug and feel my cheeks warm. “Yeah, well, yesterday was a little stressful, my first day back after being expelled and all. So I just went straight home. My foster dad picked me up.” And there was no way he was gonna let me go home with Trevor. “I do need it back though. The science fair is coming up soon, and I have a few more experiments to do.”

  Trevor laughs. “You don’t take that stuff seriously, do you? The science fair? Come on, that’s for total geeks.”

  My smile droops. “No, it’s not. Charlie takes it very seriously. And so do I.”

  “Yeah, see, if Charlie’s all into it, then you know it’s lame.” He puts a hand on my shoulder.

  Without thinking I flick his hand away. “Charlie is an all-star athlete. He’s a starter on the football team and he’s only a sophomore. I don’t think that’s too lame. And he’s brilliant on top of that. He’s the furthest thing from being a geek.” Ugh. I sound like a stinkin’ infomercial for Charlie Benson. Why do I have to open my mouth? Why can’t I just bat my eyelashes and do something all Paris-Hiltony?

  Trevor throws up a hand. “Hey! Okay, okay. Calm down.” He touches the tip of my nose. “If this science fair is that important, then all the more reason to get your fern. I’m not exactly experienced with plants, so every day it’s in my possession is another day you’re risking its life.” He winks and the tense mood dissolves.

  “I’m going home with Frances after school. Maybe I can talk her into swinging by your house.”

  “Or maybe you can ride home with me, and she can pick you up later?”

  Frances? My guard dog of a friend? “Yeah . . . I doubt it. It’s gonna be a miracle if I can get her to drive anywhere near your neighborhood.” Oh, yeah, FYI, my best friend can’t stand you.

  Trevor pushes off from the wall. “I’ll take whatever I can get. See you after school? You remember how to get to my house?”

  I nod. “I think so.” I saw every piece of it on the back of a bicycle, remember?

  His hand slides up my arm, lands on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’ll be waiting.”

  By the end of the day, I am still working on Frances to agree to take me by Trevor’s.

  “Puhhh-lease?” I clasp my hands and show her my pouty lip.

  Frances starts her station wagon, and a plume of smoke announces our departure. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  This is definitely progress. Earlier today it was “No, are you nuts? I’d gouge out my own eyeballs before I’d drop you by Trevor Jackson’s house.”

  “Frances, if I don’t get that plant back, Charlie is gonna strangle me. And then his snippy little girlfriend will be all like, ‘I told you she would mess this up, Charlie.’ And then she’ll tell me I’m single-handedly responsible for knocking him out of the running for valedictorian.”

  Frances cranks up the radio to her favorite station. KPOK. Playing all your polka hits. “First of all, I’m gonna be our valedictorian when we graduate, so he doesn’t even need to worry about that. And second, what do I get out of this? Tell me one thing you are going to do for me for putting you in the hands of that . . . that total male hoochie.”

  “I’ll . . . um . . .” I am losing this battle.

  “Fine, here’s our deal. We’ll pick up your plant on one condition.”

  “Name it. Anything.”

  “You go to the spring break mission campout.” Frances takes her eyes off the road long enough to gauge my expression.

  I shake my head and compose my face in to the most serious of frowns. “I don’t know Frances. That’s asking a lot.” Yes! I am so home free. “But for you . . . I’ll do it.”

  She squeals and claps her hands on the steering wheel. “Yes! We’re gonna have such a great time. You’ll see. You won’t regret it.”

  Five minutes later, with a wave at the guard, we drive through the gate and navigate through the golf course to Trevor’s house.

  “You have to stay in here,” I say, and Frances’s hand freezes on the door handle. “Please? Just give me five minutes.”

  Her ebony eyes narrow. “Five minutes? Do you know what could happen in that time?”

  “No, but I think I’d like to find out.”

  “Katie, you’re playing with fire here. This guy is . . . is . . .”

  “Don’t blow this out of proportion. I’ll be right back.” I slam the car door and all but skip up the steps.

  Trevor answers the door. He’s changed from his jeans and button-down into shorts and a Nike t-shirt.

  “Hey, hotness, come on in.”

  I look behind me. Is he talking to me? Oh, my gosh. Trevor Jackson just called me hot. And I have no witnesses.

  “It’s in my bedroom. Come on up.”

  His room looks like a wing of the NBA Hall of Fame museum. Like ESPN threw a party and didn’t clean up. A basketball hoop sticks out of one wall. Framed pictures of athletes, signed to Trevor, decorate the wall beside his bed.

  “Kick off your shoes. Stay awhile.”

  Since his chairs are full of clothes, I sit down on the bed. “I can’t stay. Frances is waiting for me.”

  “Plant’s in my bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappears around the corner just as his phone vibrates next to me on his bedside table. I check the screen.

  Chelsea Blake.

  “Here it is. Safe as promised.”

  I startle at his voice. “What? Oh, thanks. He looks good.” Trevor places the fern in my hands.

  “Oh, I have a message.�
� He picks up his phone and scrolls through. “Chelsea calling to discuss the play.” His eyes flick to mine.

  I force a smile. “That Chelsea . . . she’s so . . .”

  “Committed?”

  Could we commit her? Some place far, far away.

  “Does she call often?” My face is as serene as one of Millie’s meditation sessions.

  Trevor sits on the bed next to me. Right next to me. “Let’s not talk about Chelsea.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “In fact, let’s not talk at all. It’s kind of overrated.”

  I scoot out of arm’s reach. “I like talking. Talking is good. You know what else is good? Dances. Yup, dances are so—” He moves closer. “Fun.” I swallow as Trevor’s hand plays with a lock of my hair. “Are you going to the spring dance?”

  I feel his breath on my neck with each word. “Do you want me to go?” And then his lips.

  My eyes squeeze shut. I should be enjoying this. Why am I not into this? I have the Trevor Jackson’s lips on my neck. Girls would kill to be in my place.

  “Yeah. . . I’d love for you to go.”

  His lips kiss a trail across my cheek and move closer to my mouth. “Uh-huh. I’ll go.”

  “You will?” I breathe.

  “Whatever you want.”

  I throw my arms around Trevor and allow him to pull me close. My mouth meets his, and I kiss him with all the joy I can barely contain. I have a date for the dance. I have a date for the dance. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

  Trevor’s hands cradle my face and he deepens his kiss. I sigh into it and—

  The door crashes open, and I jump out of his embrace.

  “Katie Louise Parker!” Frances stomps into the room, hands balled into fists. “Your five minutes are up.”

  “Frances, I—” That is not even my middle name.

  She throws up a hand. “Save it. My wagon is leaving in sixty seconds. Are you going or not?”

  I pick up my plant and mumble a quiet apology to Trevor. Again. All I do is apologize to this guy. “I’ll see you later.”

  Playful wickedness shines in his eyes. “No problem. See ya tomorrow, Katie. Good luck with the science project. Later, Frances.”