I sighed deeply and wiped my wet forehead with the back of my hand. It was amazing that standing still could be a workout. “I know, Gran. I’ll make sure I stay grounded,” I told her. “It’s only a small part anyway; I don’t think you have much to worry about.”
“You’d be surprised how much popularity can come to a pretty girl like you from just a small part,” she warned, making me wonder if I’d been a little naïve about what I was getting into. “But I’m not trying to spoil this for you. I just want to make sure you’re going into this whole thing with your eyes opened.”
“Thanks Gran,” I said honestly, feeling that if I had someone with her experience on my side, I’d be all right.
“Well, that’s enough serious talk, Bliss. While you do your aerobic workout, I’ll make you some grilled salmon . . . it’s good for you hair,” she said with a smile, even though she knew I hated fish.
“You know dark chocolate is loaded with antioxidants,” I countered at her retreating form. “It was worth a try,” I mumbled to the empty room.
CHAPTER 7
Wednesday came and went with lots of stomachaches throughout my classes and Joseph constantly reassuring me that I had this whole thing in the bag. By the time I woke up at four o'clock a.m. on Thursday morning, I was ready to call it quits. My stomach had been in knots all night, making it impossible to sleep, and I already had four panic attacks and one minor nervous breakdown in the time it took me to get ready. I didn’t really know if I could handle this.
For the table read today, I chose my powder blue knee-length sundress. It had ruffled cap sleeves and a V-neck with a sash that tied around the back. I wore this dress whenever I could because I loved the pattern. The entire dress was printed with white flowers and red and yellow birds, making it look very 50s. I only wore mascara on my eyes today, to offset the red lipstick I was wearing (I didn’t want to look like I had used a spatula to put my makeup on). And my wild curls were pinned strategically so that they piled up on the back of my head in a mass of curly chaos.
I slipped on some powder blue ballet flats as I ran out the door to meet Joseph outside. My table read wasn’t until one, so I’d make it to most of my classes before Gran picked me up at noon. That gave me approximately seven more hours worth of nervous breakdowns and worst-case scenarios playing out in great detail in my head.
Joseph stood outside of his car, looking as comforting as ever, though his eyes were a bit red and tired. I smiled guiltily at him. I’d texted him about a hundred times throughout the night, unable to be left alone with my thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong today.
I walked up to him and gave him a tight hug, scrunching my eyes closed in an attempt to make the outside world disappear for a second. Now, don’t get me wrong. I was absolutely thrilled to be going to my first table read for Forensic Faculty, but the idea of being the newcomer in a room full of seasoned veterans was completely and utterly terrifying.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said after Joseph and I got into his car.
“Don’t worry about it, June,” he answered warmly. “I’m your best friend. It’s my job to stay up until three in the morning comforting you,” he remarked with a yawn.
“There are just so many ways I could screw this up today,” I admitted. I knew this because I’d already made a mental list of the various ways I’d make a fool out of myself.
“There are a lot more ways you could blow the entire cast out of the water,” he countered matter-of-factly.
“Like what?” I asked skeptically. As a general rule, it wasn’t nice to put someone on the spot when they're trying to cheer you up, but I was scared out of my wits and needed some reassurance.
“How about the fact that you look like a perfect little silent film star?” he began, holding up his pointer finger as he drove. “Or the fact that you’re by far the best actress Mr. Carroll has ever seen,” he said, still counting. “Or your very hip and awesome entourage.” I looked at him, puzzled for a moment. “Me, June,” he said, as if I’d just blanked on what 1+1 equals.
“Oh, right!” I exclaimed, embarrassed by my complete lack of comprehension this morning. “And what a supportive entourage you are,” I commented with a grin. Joseph just glanced over at me and scrunched up his nose like he always did when I made a sarcastic remark.
“So, I know this is the last thing on your mind right now, but I was just thinking about homecoming,” Joseph said as we pulled into the gas station to get our hot chocolate.
“That’s coming up soon, isn’t it?” I asked, having forgotten all about it in the excitement lately. Homecoming wasn’t really a big deal to me, mostly because it wasn’t like I had some crush that I wanted to ask me. More than likely, Joseph and I would go to homecoming together, stay for about five minutes before realizing all of the music was horrible and it was just an excuse for people to be . . . well . . . very close to each other (to put it nicely), and then we would go back to my house and watch a movie.
“We’re still going, right?” he asked, glancing at me sideways a bit uneasily.
“Yeah, definitely . . . unless you wanted to ask Xani to be your date,” I teased, poking him in the shoulder.
“You got me,” he said sarcastically, getting out of the car while I followed suit.
“She’s a cute girl—that's all I’m saying,” I told him in a singsong voice as the bell above the gas station door announced our entrance.
Hazel, a beautiful girl with skin the color of cherry wood, stood behind the front counter, flipping through a magazine. She smiled by way of a greeting as we walked in. She always worked the early morning shift, so she’d quickly grown used to Joseph and me stopping in every weekday at the crack of dawn.
“I think I may pass on the hot chocolate today,” I admitted to Joseph, watching while he filled up his cardboard cup with steaming, too-rich hot chocolate.
“Knowing your stomach, that may be the best idea,” he agreed with a nod. “I’ll just pay really fast and then we’ll get this show on the road.”
I stood back by the hot chocolate machine while Joseph paid for his drink. He talked avidly with Hazel about whatever she was reading in her magazine. She said something that made him laugh, and I couldn’t help but notice how his smile made his eyes crinkle up in the corners. It was his squinty smile; my favorite one. Joseph was just one of those people who was nice to everyone he met—even crazy Xani, who always threw herself at him.
Joseph began to walk toward the door, waving for me to join him. As he stepped outside, he pulled his grey button-up sweater tighter around him.
“Skinny tie not keeping you warm?” I asked teasingly.
“For your information, all the best people wear skinny ties,” he countered. “Harold Lloyd wore one.”
“Did Buster Keaton? Because if he did, then I’d be convinced,” I said with a wink.
“Didn’t he wear bow ties? Maybe not . . . I think I’m confusing my actors.” Joseph scratched his head in a contemplative way, and we spent the rest of the drive to seminary arguing over who was better between Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd. What can I say? We were nerds.
After seminary, we actually managed to make it out the door and in to zero period theatre on time. Mr. Carroll wasn’t standing on the stage in his normal "lecturing" position because he was giving us today to work on our skits. This revelation gave me a small jolt as I realized we’d be performing those skits tomorrow. I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to handle having so much going on at once. We hadn’t even started filming the show, but I already felt overwhelmed by school and my new part.
Joseph and I resumed our practice in the green room where we’d been rehearsing for the past two days—without the kiss in the scene. Today, however, Joseph had brought our actual bag of money and we were ready to pull out all the stops. Of course when I say "actual bag of money," I mean, "actual pillowcase stuffed with board game money." He plopped the sack down next to him and began his pacing back and forth to s
tart the scene off. I tried my best to forget about all of the stress I’d been feeling this past week and focus on the task at hand. After all, I had promised Joseph I wouldn’t have some great performance on the show and hang him out to dry on our skit.
“What could you possibly be thinking?” Joseph asked me harshly, letting me know the scene had started. “Robbery is an art, not an excuse to throw a brick through a window!”
I let him pace back and forth a few more times, just to get the point across that he was fuming. Once he’d taken a few trips across the floor, I stood up to begin my lines. I walked behind him silently so that when he turned around to continue pacing, he ran into me, with my water gun sticking into his chest. The water gun was neon green, which wasn’t very convincing, but Mr. Carroll thought it might not be a good idea to bring black water guns to school. I have to say, I didn’t blame him for thinking this.
“What’s more artful than smashing a window, taking the cash, and still not getting caught?” I asked, pushing my water gun into his chest hard enough that it made him stumble back a few paces. Joseph looked down at me through narrowed eyes for a moment and then leaned in close.
“If you don’t point that thing somewhere else, I’ll have to reconsider my idea of working as a team,” he said icily, still giving me chills with the way he could instantly become so dark and threatening. I balked for a moment at his sudden change of tone and let my mouth drop open a fraction to show my surprise before turning and beginning to walk away.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
“To find a new partner,” I threw over my shoulder.
“Perfect. How about while you do that, I’ll stay here and count all that money you just made me,” he said with a sneer, patting the bag next to him loudly. Just as we had rehearsed, I stopped dead in my tracks and turned my head so the audience would be able to tell I was considering this without turning enough to be looking at Joseph. Taking a deep breath, I spun around to face Joseph, who looked a bit comical. It looked like he was trying to keep his sneer in place and look tough, but I could see just a hint of nerves somewhere around his eyes. I dropped my water gun on the floor and put my hands up in mock surrender before walking slowly toward him.
“I see your point,” I began, letting my lips form an alluring smile, walking closer to Joseph until I was right in front of him. I let my arm rest lightly on his shoulder as I had done every time we rehearsed this scene the past two days. My fingers spun his wavy dark brown hair into little curls behind his head while I continued to look at him.
“Really, there’s no reason to fight, right?” I asked innocently, looking up at him through my eyelashes while I moved our pillowcase full of money behind me with my foot. Joseph looked at me intently, his brown eyes dark and intense. He was a good actor—I had to give him that. I let my face move incrementally closer to his as I said my last line. “We are on the same team right?” Joseph continued to stare at me, and I couldn’t tell if he had forgotten his lines or was pausing for dramatic effect.
“Yes, we are,” he finally said slowly, the words coming out just above a whisper. For a moment I hesitated. This was going to be weird. I was going to kiss my best friend. But then again, it was just for a skit, so it wasn’t really like I was about to kiss my best friend, right? Just before I urged myself those last few inches, I thought of all of the stress and stomachaches I had put myself through these last few days by over-thinking things, and I made a resolution: this scene would be one less thing for me to over think.
I looked up into Joseph’s brown eyes one last time. He seemed to be holding his breath as he stared back down at me. This was it. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips against his. At first it was just like holding hands—it didn’t feel intimate at all. But as the kiss deepened and Joseph wrapped his arms around my waist, I could tell this wasn’t really a stage kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing his face against mine as he pulled me tighter against him, and for a second, I felt all of my stress melt away in his warmth. It was a perfect moment where the only thing I was concentrating on was letting my breath come out in a slow, even pattern, and how soft Joseph’s lips were. I guess I hadn’t ever given him much thought in that way. As much as I was letting myself enjoy the kiss, Joseph must have enjoyed it more, because he didn’t seem to want to let go of me.
By the time we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard and red in the face. Most of that, I soon realized (much to my horror), was because of the red lipstick I had decided to wear that day. I kept my fingers tightly entwined in his hair and his arms were still firmly around my waist as we stared at each other, dumbstruck.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, although I wasn’t quite sure what I was sorry about.
“Wow,” was all he said. His eyebrows were raised as if he was surprised and his lips were pursed together.
“I’ve just been so stressed and I really, honestly, didn’t mean to . . . attack you,” I finally said. This made him laugh as he let go of me, somewhat reluctantly, I thought.
“Attack me?” he repeated with just a hint of mischief in his smile. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a good way to describe what just happened here."
“You have lipstick all over your face, by the way,” I said in embarrassment, bringing my hand up to my mouth, partially to remove the lipstick from my own face, but mostly to hide the blush that was rising in my cheeks. Joseph wiped at his face, rubbing most of the red away except for a small trace right around his lips. I quickly wiped it away with my thumb. He placed his hand over mine for just a moment before letting it go.
I stood in front of him, looking at the ground and feeling slightly ashamed that I had pounced on Joseph just because I’d been so stressed. It wasn’t his fault he happened to be the innocent bystander of "June’s mental meltdown."
“I really am sorry,” I said again. Joseph opened his mouth to talk, but I quickly cut him off, wanting to make sure he understood me entirely. “It’s just everything’s been so crazy lately and I’ve been stressed about the show and even about the skit. And I guess I was thinking if I just let go for a minute I could maybe . . . get rid of some of the stress. But I didn’t mean to attack you and I definitely don’t want you to think I’m some crazy hormone-filled girl like Xani,” I said all in one breath. Though I expected Joseph to look relieved by my revelation, he just looked a bit disappointed to me.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said somberly. I couldn’t figure out exactly when we’d gone from being happy and full of jokes right after our kiss, to being suddenly all somber and depressed. “We did forget the last part of the skit though,” he said with a halfhearted smile.
“Well, tomorrow we’ll be much better,” I said resolutely. “I promise. I won’t attack you again, all right?” Joseph nodded, his pursed-lipped smile still in place.
We didn’t talk about the kiss at break. Or in Spanish. Or during lunch . . . well, the whole fifteen minutes I was at lunch before Gran came to get me. As I left our spot, I gave Joseph a little wave over my shoulder and smiled at him. He returned the wave but his smile just looked sad. I hadn’t upset him that much by kissing him, had I? I asked Gran on the way to the table read what she thought of the whole situation, needing some input from someone I trusted.
“Bliss, you’re a smart girl. How can you not see this?” she asked in exasperation.
“See what?” I replied, confusion and stress clouding my mind.
“Joseph likes you. He’s probably wanted you to kiss him since you were five and now that it’s happened he’s probably hurt that you tried to downplay it so much,” she explained, sounding wise and sure . . . even though I knew she was completely wrong.
“First off, Joseph’s not a girl. He doesn’t get his feelings hurt over things like that,” I told her matter-of-factly. “And second, I know that because we’re such good friends it seems like we like each other in that way, but we really don’t. We’ve just always been really close.”
“So you�
��re telling me you don’t feel anything other than friendship toward that boy?” Gran asked skeptically. I thought about it for a moment. I had definitely always treated our relationship as a friendship. Did that really mean I didn’t have feelings for Joseph? Or was I just constantly telling myself we were just friends to make sure I didn’t spoil something I knew we had for something we might have? I decided to go with the former.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” I said at last, making Gran shake her head in an "I give up" kind of way.
We spent the rest of the drive to the production office discussing what I should expect from this table read today. The more we talked about it, the more nervous I became, and soon all thoughts of my kiss with Joseph that morning were gone, replaced by the hypothetically traumatizing situations I could possibly experience today.
By the time I walked into the designated room for that day’s table read, I was about as stable as a bowl of Jell-O. None of the other actors were in the room when I took my seat and began to read over the script for the millionth time. Three long tables were set up in a U shape in the small room. There were a few crewmembers there, and Mr. Hill gave me a quick briefing of what we’d do today. Once he finished talking, I sat awkwardly by myself, waiting for the other actors to trickle in.
The first two to show up were Ryan Hex and Benjamin Hampton, who played Rich and John on the show. They were the notorious comic-relief detectives who got all the clever one-liners and catchphrases that people printed on T-shirts. They were both in their 20s and couldn’t have looked more different from each other if they tried. Ryan had fair skin, short blonde hair, and deep blue eyes. Benjamin, on the other hand, had dark brown skin, brown hair, and brown eyes. Even though they looked so different, I could tell instantly that they had great chemistry as they bounced jokes off of each other while walking into the room. The second they spotted me, they flanked me—Ryan with a wide, inviting smile, and Benjamin with a sideways smirk.
Finding June Page 5
