“Where’s Cros?” I ask Nora. “Having a panic attack in the alley?”
“The proper term is ‘meditating.’” Like a good girlfriend, she dutifully recites the party line. “But yes, most likely a panic attack. How’re the tights?”
“Cutting off circulation to every body part all at once.”
“You’re going to be great.” She worked all afternoon as we rehearsed and saw the illusion at least half a dozen times, applauding boisterously at each reveal until Crosbie told her she could stop acting surprised.
“Hello, darling.” Marcela swoops into the seat behind me and slings an arm around my neck. “How I’ve missed you.”
“We missed you too,” Dane and Choo echo as they slide into seats next to Marcela.
“I have a date,” I whisper. “All of you go away.”
“We’re just pretending,” she whispers back, winking at Jackie.
“So are we,” Dane and Choo whisper.
I remove Marcela’s arm. “Now I can’t get anything to eat or drink without worrying about Nate poisoning it.”
“Don’t worry, I brought you a snack. That’s why you love me.” She passes me a plastic-wrapped brownie.
“I barely even like you. But thanks.”
“What’s going on over there?” She asks the question a little too deliberately, turning to look over her shoulder.
Though I know better, I still take the bait and follow her gaze to Andi and Crick’s little huddle. In fact, we all do. Andi has removed the pea coat to reveal some sort of gauzy white tank top that floats away from her body and dips low in the back. I make myself look away. “What are you talking about?”
“Your ‘childhood friend’ cleans up nice.”
“Why are you using air quotes? She actually is my childhood friend. And she looks fine, I guess.” I can’t stop my eyes from straying over there again. Andi’s fidgeting with the strap of her top, like a woman raised by wolves being forced to wear civilized clothing for the first time.
Crick dips his head to speak into her ear and she turns to answer him, their faces too close together before he leaves to get in line at the counter. I can feel Dane and Choo watching me with great interest, so I keep my face carefully neutral.
“She looks super hot,” Dane offers, waiting to gauge my reaction.
“One of the hottest girls here,” Choo adds, winking at Jackie and Marcela in turn.
Marcela narrows her eyes. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Okay, but can I have a free brownie?”
Which reminds me. “Do you want a drink?” I ask Jackie. “Or anything to eat? Maybe this brownie?”
“Don’t be cheap,” Marcela scolds before turning to Jackie. “Come on. I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Ooh. Thanks!” Jackie says, letting herself be led away.
“What’s up?” Crosbie asks, sliding into Marcela’s vacated seat. I can feel the cold radiating from him; he was definitely outside hyperventilating.
“Just waiting for the show to begin.”
“You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I like being the center of attention as much as the next guy, but not when I’m wearing spandex.
“Kellan has a crush,” Dane announces now that my date’s gone. “And it’s not his date.”
“Fuck off!” I snap. “I do not.”
“Do too.”
“Grow up,” Crosbie tells us. “But who is this dream girl?”
“It’s no one.”
“It’s Andrea Walsh,” Choo answers. “Crick’s date.”
“It’s pronounced An-dray-ah,” I point out.
“Whaaat?” The look Crosbie gives me is one of betrayal and it has nothing to do with pronouncing Andi’s name correctly. He can’t believe he’s not the first to hear about my crush. I want to assure him it’s the first I’m hearing of it too, but he’s already craning his neck to look at her. “Totally not what I would have expected,” he muses, “but still a great choice. And an utter betrayal. You should have told me!”
“No one has been betrayed. I haven’t chosen anything. They’re wrong.”
“Sometimes we don’t get to choose,” he replies sagely. “It just happens.”
“Nothing has happened.” Except for a summer of hot sex followed by heartbreak and two years of nothing and then five weeks of confusion and heartburn.
“This is why she was at your place that day!” he exclaims. To Dane and Choo he adds, “I went over there one time and he was helping her ‘bake cookies.’”
“Why does no one know how to use air quotes?” I demand. “We were baking cookies!”
“And you grew up together?” Dane says thoughtfully. “You’ve known her all your life?”
“What does that—”
Choo snaps his fingers. “She’s your first love and you’ve never gotten over her. This is so romantic.”
“She’s not my first anything—Well, okay, she’s not my first love—”
They gasp on cue and cover their mouths joyfully.
“Walsh is number one on the sex list?” Dane exclaims. “Oh man. Everything makes so much sense and yet no sense at all.”
I scowl at them. “I was never in love with Andi. We were young.”
“He’s been looking over there all night,” Dane tattles.
“And hating on Crick, though he’s a pretty good dude.”
“Face it,” Crosbie says. “You’re jealous, man.”
“I’m not—”
“I know it’s probably your first time ever dealing with the emotion, but that’s the only explanation.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I know when I’m beat. Plus, I honestly can’t remember a time when I was jealous. That might make me sound like a jerk, but I think it shows an appreciation and gratitude for the good things in my life. I mean, I’ve been envious before, sure. But jealous? No. And of Andi? Firm no.
The guys laugh at my bewildered expression. “Look,” I say in a hushed tone that comes out more than a little desperate. “I’m not jealous and I’m not into Andi. And she doesn’t want anyone to know about...before. So I know it’ll be hard for you gossips to keep this quiet, but shut the fuck up about it.”
They crow gleefully, but before they can continue to torment me, Jackie returns with her free latte and Nate takes the stage. I never thought I’d be glad to see him and his stupid beanie, but right now I could hug him. Well, I can look at him without wanting to retch.
“Good evening, everybody, and welcome to Fall Open Mic Night!”
The room slowly quiets. There are two chairs set up with a microphone between them and small speakers on either side of the stage. It’s a basic arrangement that suits the night’s line up of entertainers as Nate tells us what to expect. Crosbie’s up second from the end so I have approximately ninety minutes to sit here and stew in spandex until my secret moment in the spotlight.
Jackie’s friend is the first performer, with a surprisingly cool take on Berlin’s eighties hit. She plays the harmonica and strums a ukulele as she sings in a feathery voice that sets the tone for the night.
I try my best to listen, mostly because Jackie’s gripping my forearm and leaning forward avidly. Still, I can’t stop my gaze from sliding to the far side of the front row where Andi and Crick sit, a mirror image of us. Andi’s watching the performance, Crick’s arm slung around the back of her seat, and almost like she feels my stare, she looks over and catches me.
I turn away quickly, concentrating on the performance and clapping a little too enthusiastically when it’s over. No one notices, however, since Jackie’s standing and practically bawling with pride as her friend takes a bow and gathers her gear before demurely shuffling off stage.
Two spoken word poets, one great, one depressing, followed by an even more depressing ballet performance set to Alanis Morissette’s cover of The Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps,” and we’re all ready for some mediocre stand-up comedy debating everything from the current
state of politics to reality television and the campus meal plan. The more we see the more excited I am for Crosbie. As usual, he’s the only magician on the roster and the room will go nuts for his newest illusion.
We’re seated close enough to the door that every time someone comes or goes an icy burst of wind washes through. I don’t mind the cool air since I’m wearing an extra layer of clothes, but by the time intermission rolls around, Jackie’s shivering. She’s got her jacket covering her legs like a blanket and I offer her my coat too.
“Aw,” Marcela croons, leaning in to pass Jackie a cup of tea she hadn’t ordered. I get nothing. “I told Nate Jackie was allergic to chamomile so he thinks I’m trying to poison your date and sabotage your happiness,” she explains.
“Why is this your plan to make him love you?”
“That’s not the purpose of the plan,” she replies. “It’s to make him jealous.”
“He’s probably just feeling relieved at this point.”
She glares at me then reconsiders the tea. “Huh.”
Jackie quickly takes a sip so Marcela can’t rescind the offer.
“We’re going to get some air,” Crosbie announces, abruptly standing and tugging Nora behind him to the front door. They’re either going to bang in his car or she’s going to rub his back while he hurls.
Marcela takes Nora’s seat and I promptly stand. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
I don’t need to go—and peeling off this suit and then squeezing back into it holds no appeal—but I get up and weave through the crowd toward the back hallway, trying not to stare at Andi as she laughs and talks with Crick and some other players. She catches my eye for a second and hesitates, mid-laugh, looking soft and pretty and happy.
I’m distracted when someone stops me to talk about the upcoming invite-only Alpha Sigma Phi Halloween party. Invitations haven’t even gone out yet, but I promise to see what I can do about getting them one. When I look back at Andi’s group she’s blocked from view by Crick’s body, probably on purpose.
I’ve visited Beans enough times to know this narrow hallway leads to a fire door that exits into an alley, so I head for it, dragging in a lungful of cold air when I step outside.
The door clicks shut behind me, blocking out the hum of noise coming from the shop, and I stand alone, the flickering exterior lights reflecting off a row of garbage cans and recycle bins. I pace the length of the alley a few times, feeling better when I pull open the door to return to the show, and immediately feeling less better when I see Andi emerging from the women’s bathroom.
The crowd has dissipated and we’re alone in the hall. For a second I imagine it’s just us in the building, the town, the state, but that’s stupid. We both have dates and they’re in the other room.
“Hey,” she says, pulling on the hem of her shirt. There’s some sort of shiny beaded trim at the neckline, dipping into a deep vee that shouldn’t make me wonder what I’d find if I kept looking.
“Enjoying the show?”
Her mouth quirks. “Yes?”
“Don’t worry. The best is yet to come.”
“I hope so.”
My role in Crosbie’s show is a secret, so she doesn’t know that I’m mostly referring to myself with that statement. If she did, she’d roll her eyes so hard she fell down.
“It’s nice to see you took my advice and left the hoodie at home.”
“Who better to listen to?” she asks. “Oh, wait. Everyone.”
“He’s not worth it anyway.”
“What?”
“Crick. That little show in the car? Trying to make me look like an asshole? That was desperate. You can do better.”
“He wasn’t—”
“You know he was.”
She sighs. “Well, maybe he felt intimidated and was just trying to...level the playing field. Not everyone likes living in your shadow.”
“He’s like a million feet tall. Why would he be in my shadow?”
“I don’t know, Kellan. Why don’t you ask him yourself since you seem so fixated on the subject?”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “It’s your call. You said you wanted to live life, so here you are. Living. Every girl should fuck at least one asshole, right?”
Her expression darkens and she shoves past me. “Then I guess I’ve met my quota.”
I let her go, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck. I don’t know why the hell I said that. I don’t know why everything these last two years—gonnorhea included—seemed so much easier than the past five weeks.
I return to my seat, faking a smile for Jackie when she welcomes me back. She takes a selfie of the two of us and I hope my grin doesn’t look as phony as it feels. I dart a glance at Andi but she’s sitting stiffly in her seat looking resolutely toward the stage, Crick’s arm still far too cozy around her shoulders.
The lights dim and a dance act takes the stage, then an improv group, then a sketch comedy act. With just one performance left before Crosbie’s due up, I tell Jackie I don’t feel great and need some air.
As planned, I exit through the front door and jog back around through the alley to wait at the fire door for my cue. Moments later Choo emerges and peers around for me. “Aren’t you cold?” he asks, ushering me back inside.
“Hardly. I’ve been wearing a bodysuit all night.”
“Oh yeah.” He snickers to himself. Crosbie brought in him and Dane as hired muscle to bring some of his props to the stage and participate in the show. The primary props for this performance are a long black box that looks eerily like a coffin and a large black curtain.
We meet Dane and Crosbie in the storage closet and I strip down to the bodysuit. There’s a piece of fabric to cover my face, but I leave it bunched at my forehead for now, then climb into the box and lie flat on my back as they replace the lid. There are tiny air holes cut in the wood near my face and covered with black mesh so I can breathe, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the box is hefted into the air to be transported to the stage.
“Dude,” Crosbie grunts. “I told you to stay away from carbs.”
“Fuck off,” I reply, though I don’t think he can hear over Choo’s pained gasps. Dane’s a pitcher, so to spare his arm he got the easy task of carrying out the curtain, and he whistles smugly as we trudge up front where I hear Nate introduce Crosbie as my coffin is lowered to ground on the back side of the stage.
Assuming Choo and Dane are in position, they’re standing behind the coffin, each holding one end of the curtain to provide a black backdrop as Crosbie explains the illusion at the front of the small stage. The premise of the act is making things invisible. He’ll begin by making a few small items vanish, then I’m part of the grand finale.
I try to peer out the air holes to watch Crosbie’s show, but all I can see are his feet and calves. What I have a direct view of, however, is Andi and Crick, sitting where I left them. Crick still has his arm around her but looks pretty entranced by the performance, while Andi scratches at something on her knee and looks miserable.
I feel bad. She trusted me enough to ask for help flirting with Crick, and even though I gave her pretty good advice, I know I’m responsible for her frown. I’ve been responsible for a lot of her worst moments.
Crick casually reaches up to touch his ear, then drops his hand right onto Andi’s knee.
My mouth falls open, I forget my guilt and squish closer to the air hole, pressing my eye against the mesh.
Andi doesn’t take his hand away. She looks surprised, but doesn’t rebuff him. She doesn’t stand up and reprimand him and storm off. She just...keeps it there.
I’m seething right now. And not with jealousy, but with indignation. I mean, Crick is supposed to be watching the show, not feeling up my friend. This is very offensive to Crosbie.
He leans in to whisper something to Andi, his lips closer to her ear than necessary. But instead of leaping away, Andi leans in as though to hear him better, a chunk of shiny hair falling over her shoulder into his fa
ce. Crick laughs and brushes it away, fingertips stroking her neck, and for a long moment they lock eyes. My heart stops beating. No more heartburn, just no more beats at all.
Just as Crick prepares to go in for the kiss, the room erupts in rapturous applause and Andi jolts in her seat. I jerk in the coffin, banging my eye against the side and nearly blinding myself.
“So we’ve made coins vanish,” Crosbie is saying. “We’ve disappeared a book. We’ve even lost a chair. But that’s not enough, is it?”
“No!” the room shouts.
“We need to disappear something awesome. Something amazing. Something...incredible.”
I roll my eyes.
“We need to disappear me!” he cries.
The room explodes in laughter and agreement.
“Okay,” Crosbie says. “I’ve got my lovely assistants here holding up the curtain...” I hear his voice grow louder and can picture Choo and Dane stepping forward to move the curtain in front of the coffin to give Crosbie room to hide behind it.
“I’m just going to do a few things...”
Safely out of sight, he reaches down to open the box and free me, while at the same time jostling the curtain as though changing. “Who needs a shirt when they’re invisible?” he calls. There’s a soft thud as he tosses his shirt over the curtain. Catcalls sound from the audience. “Who needs pants?”
As carefully as I can, I rise from the box and take Crosbie’s place, shaking the curtain and throwing over socks and shoes. In the floor behind the stage is a tiny trap door that leads down to the building’s scary cellar, and as I keep up the charade, Crosbie slips through the door and disappears.
“Dude,” Choo says loudly, peering behind the curtain at me. “How long is this strip tease going to—Crosbie?” He makes a big show of looking around. “Dane, do you see him?”
Dane peeks at me behind the curtain as I roll down the front of the mask so I’m completely covered in black fabric.
“He’s gone!” Dane exclaims.
“Prove it!” someone in the audience yells.
“Oh yeah,” Choo says, as though they’d forgotten that part. “Right.”
He and Dane count down from three, then whoosh up the curtain so it falls behind me, ineffectively camouflaging my black bodysuit against the black fabric. I stand completely still, knowing they can see me but acting like I think they can’t.
Undeclared (Burnham College #2) Page 11
