Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  She smiled up at me.

  “Have to go to school,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

  In the space of half a second, her face changed from happy to panicked. “No. Don’t go.”

  I froze. What was I supposed to do now? “It’s all right. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Her breathing came out loud and heavy. “I’ll go with you.” She started to get up.

  I rested my hand on her shoulder. “It’s just high school, Nana. You’d be bored. But I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

  “Please don’t go,” she said, her eyes wide with what had to be fear.

  Holy crap. What had I done? I couldn’t leave her like this. But I couldn’t stay, either. I kissed her again and then straightened up.

  Tears filled her eyes, magnified by her glasses. “Stay here, Trey. Please.”

  Maggie cleared her throat. I looked over. She indicated the door with one sharp tilt of the head. Right, got it. I started backing away. “Love you, Nana. Back soon.”

  In a smooth move, Maggie stuck herself right in Nana’s line of sight and held up a pair of pants. “How do you want these folded, Mrs. Berger?”

  I strode out, hearing Nana say, “Fold them however you want, you daft woman. You know I don’t care.”

  I was across the living room and out the front door as fast as I could go. But it still wasn’t fast enough. I wanted to run the four miles to school instead of riding with Ashley. A heavy weight sat on my chest, and I could barely breathe. What the hell?

  I got into Ashley’s idling hatchback and slammed the door shut. As though I could shut out what had just happened. I’d never seen Nana act like that before. And I felt like a total ass for walking away.

  I looked at Ashley’s pale face. “Bad?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s just go.”

  Seven

  Lindsey

  I raced across the teachers’ parking lot and into the theater building. I was so screwed. Auditions had started at least fifteen minutes ago. I had no idea why I’d just stood around listening to Nick Somerset flirt with me. No, wait. I did know why. I needed someone to flirt with me. That way I’d be over Adam sooner, right?

  It didn’t hurt that Nick looked like a younger version of Liam Hemsworth. Really easy to look at. Just not so interesting to talk to. All he cared about was golf. Which was okay, but after half an hour, there had to be something else to talk about. And while I was stupidly doing a brain scan to come up with new topics, I’d made myself late for auditions.

  This would never have happened if I hadn’t had to take that stupid health class last period of the day. I would’ve been in theater class just like everyone else, getting mentally prepared for auditions.

  I stopped when I reached the auditorium doors, took a deep breath, and let it out. No sense in looking as frazzled as I felt. After one more slow inhale and exhale, I walked in and quietly made my way down the aisle to where about ten students sat in the center rows with Mrs. Mac. Lainey Garza stood on stage with Mike Morales, waiting to start. I sat down next to Parker Sims, who widened his eyes at me as if I were in trouble. The next second confirmed it.

  Mrs. Mac leaned toward me, two pencils stuck in her thick hair behind the same ear. “Get backstage if you want to audition. The girls are almost done.”

  Yikes. I’d only just made it. Mrs. Mac was a stickler for doing things in order, and when she wanted all the girls to go first, that’s the way it would be. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Watch my stuff?” I whispered to Parker. He nodded.

  By the time I made it backstage, Lainey was in the middle of her lines. She had a good take on the role of the daughter, Caroline. Mike read lines with her, and before I could steady myself, they were done. Why the heck was I so nervous? I’d done this a million times.

  Mike came into the wings as one of the freshmen, a girl named Carrie, walked on stage. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to me and smiled. “See you out there in a minute.”

  I winked at him.

  Breathe, Lindsey, breathe. This was so stupid. I was reading the part of Ma Kirby, the heart and soul of the play. I’d been studying. I’d needed to. These old-timey plays had weird language sometimes, but I knew my lines. There was absolutely no reason for nerves. Mrs. Mac might’ve been mad, but she liked me. I’d get the part. Auditioning was just a formality. Right?

  Good pep talk. Too bad it was over so soon. I shrugged out of my jacket, placing it over a stool, and then moved closer to watch Carrie. A little too squeaky and tentative. But she had the guts to try. Not a lot of the freshmen did.

  All of a sudden she was walking offstage in the other direction. Mike appeared in front of me. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  “What scene?”

  “When they’re about to get in the car.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked out together. Mrs. Mac was flipping pages of the script. She made a note and then stuck another pencil in her hair. “Go ahead,” she said.

  Ma Kirby, Ma Kirby. You are Ma Kirby! I spoke my first line, loud and clear, and Mike responded. His eyes twinkled as he read the other parts, and I relaxed a fraction. He was so much fun to act with. We got through a few more lines, then I waved into the distance, saying goodbye to one of the neighbors. Now I was looking out across the auditorium. My gaze moved down the rows, and my words dwindled away. Adam’s seat. It was there; of course it was there. Just right of center, six rows from the front. And totally empty. There was no dark head bent over homework while he waited for me. No secret smile sent my way when I purposely made eye contact. Empty. Gone. Just like he was.

  I’d found out he wasn’t even going to school here anymore. That, since he was a senior, he’d transferred to the community college’s early college program. Disappeared from every part of my life.

  “Lindsey,” Mike whispered.

  I looked over at him and tried to breathe, but it was like Adam’s seat had sucked the air out of my lungs.

  Mike whispered a prompt, and I repeated it dully. Probably not even loud enough for the first row to hear. But he continued loyally. We were almost finished with the scene. I had to get through. I forced air into my chest, let it out, and said my final line. Not as Ma Kirby. I was completely out of character. I said it just like any other high school student would say it if they were reading the play out loud.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Mac called.

  Mike took my elbow and steered me toward the wings. When we were offstage, I kept walking toward the offices and workrooms in the back. Mike trotted along beside me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure, Linds? ’Cause you just froze out there. I’ve never seen that happen to you before.”

  I stopped and faced him, hands on my hips. “I’ll be fine.” He still looked doubtful, so I touched his forearm. I needed him to leave me alone. “It’s okay. Thanks for reading with me. You were great.”

  “Any time. You know that, right?”

  “Of course. Thanks, Mike. I just need a minute.”

  He shook himself. “Right. I’ve got to get back out there. The guys are starting.”

  I waited until he turned a corner and was gone. Then I stood before the large wall mirror next to a rack of hanging costumes. I was ghostly pale. I rubbed at the hollow sensation in my chest, then held my head up. “You screwed up,” I whispered to myself. “It happens. But you are Lindsey Taylor. You can do this. Now go back out there and show everybody that nothing is wrong.” I pinched my cheeks and then headed for the wings to pick up my jacket.

  Just as I was about to go back to my seat, a high-pitched voice came from the stage. Trey Berger, acting his butt off. He moved around a lot, and since the part was a thirteen-year-old boy, it worked. Lainey, who read with him, had to jump out of the way a couple of times. Huh. Not bad for such a nerdy guy.

  When he stopped, Mrs. Mac’s voice rang out. “Do that last line again for me, would you? Just
give it a little more snap.”

  “All right,” he said. He adjusted his glasses with both hands and stared out across the house. Then came a long moment of silence. My pulse pounded in my ears. What the heck? Was I worried about him?

  I didn’t have time to analyze that thought because he muttered something to Lainey and she repeated her prompt. “‘Ma, everybody’s looking at you.’”

  Then he hunched over and moved forward, snapping his fingers like those dancers from West Side Story. And managed to say his line at the same time.

  Laughter broke out in the audience, Mrs. Mac’s familiar cackle louder than everyone else’s. My lips curved into their first real smile in two weeks.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Mac said, laughter still sounding in her voice. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but good job thinking on your feet. Next!”

  Berger came toward me from the stage, and I stepped aside to give him room. “Nice job, Dragon Master,” I said.

  He had a resigned look on his slightly flushed face. “Shut up.” He walked on.

  “No, wait,” I said, following him. He paused, his left eyebrow raised above his glasses. “I didn’t mean that sarcastically. You did a really nice job out there.”

  Tilting his head, he smiled, and a dimple dented his cheek. “Thanks,” he said. “I may have peed myself.”

  I snorted. “Not really.”

  Still smiling, he shook his head. “Nah. But I do need to sit down before I fall down. You coming?”

  “Yeah.”

  We headed back to the seats, and I took my place next to Parker. Berger sat on the other end of the same row. I could feel a couple of the girls watching me. They were probably gloating over my screwup, but I couldn’t worry about that right now. I had to figure out what to say to Mrs. Mac, because she was going to ask me why I’d blown it. That was inevitable.

  The boys’ auditions ended twenty minutes later. The only one I paid any attention to was Mike’s, and he was flawless, as usual. He could probably have whatever part he wanted in this play.

  Mrs. Mac got up and turned to address us. “Nice work, everyone. There are still a few people who couldn’t be here today, so their auditions are tomorrow. I hope to have the parts cast by Friday. We’re a little behind schedule because of my family emergency in December, but I think with some dedicated work we’ll be ready for the first round of competition at the end of March. The Happy Journey to Trenton and Camden is one of Thornton Wilder’s classic one-act plays, and I want us to do it justice.”

  Not to mention that the play was older than dirt.

  “With what I’ve seen here today,” she continued, “I’m confident we will. If you have any questions, save them for tomorrow, please. I would, however, like to speak to Lindsey and Trey before you leave. The rest of you are dismissed.”

  Yahoo! She’d selected a witness for my scolding. And it was Berger!

  People started talking and grabbing backpacks. Auditorium seats squeaked as they swung upright. Parker leaned closer. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay. You know Mrs. Mac doesn’t stay mad for long.”

  Maybe, but I couldn’t remember her ever being mad at me. “Thanks. You’d better go. You don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”

  He shrugged like that would be no big deal, but then glanced nervously at Mrs. Mac. “Yeah,” he said. “See ya tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  The others were still walking up the aisles when Mrs. Mac faced Berger. “Trey, I need about five minutes alone with Lindsey. Why don’t you go to the restroom or wait in the foyer? Keep an eye out. I’ll motion to you when we’re ready.”

  “Okay.” Without even a glance in my direction, he followed the others out.

  So Berger didn’t get to witness this after all. That was a relief. “Do you want me to come down there?” I asked her.

  She shook her head, causing one of the pencils to fall out. She picked it up and stuck it back in her hair. “I’ll come to you.” She walked to my row and edged in, choosing the seat one over from me. The empty seat between us felt like an ocean of space.

  I curled my fingers around the armrests of my chair, waiting for her rant to start. But there was nothing. Just silence. She studied me for a long moment before finally speaking in a soft voice. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “I—” The caring expression in her dark brown eyes made me choke up. I wanted to tell her everything, all about the breakup, in even more detail than I’d told my mom. She was my mentor after all. She’d been encouraging and challenging me since I first started in theater. But she also held a hard line when people let their personal lives affect the way they behaved in drama club. She was always telling us to “use our pain” to be better actors.

  But I had to tell her something. Just keep it simple, Linds. I cleared my throat. “I’m really sorry. My boyfriend and I broke up at the beginning of the holidays, and I’ve been kind of distracted.”

  “Distracted.”

  I clenched the armrests even harder. Thank goodness they were padded.

  She let out a long sigh. “Well. I’m sorry about that for your sake, but I’ve seen you act circles around people despite multiple breakups. I thought you were going to be our Ma Kirby. I still want you to be our Ma Kirby.”

  I shut my eyes. Doubt coated every word she said. I wanted to spray her with a hose to make her stop talking.

  “Look at me, Lindsey.” I obeyed. “You are my best actor, and I still believe you can do this part. But three, maybe four, other girls had better auditions than you, and I can’t play favorites.”

  Something in my chest dropped to my stomach. I didn’t think it was my heart, because that was still in a million pieces. But whatever it was weighted me to the chair like I’d never leave it again.

  She scratched the back of her head. “I’m not going to decide right now. There are still the auditions tomorrow. So you’ll have to wait until Friday just like everyone else. But there is something I’d like you to do … basically go the extra mile so I can see that you’re still serious about this play.”

  My hands were cramping on the armrests, so I let go. My breath came shallowly. I was too afraid to breathe, too afraid that any noise might make her change her mind. She watched me without speaking, so I finally said, “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I want you to work with Trey.”

  What did that mean? “Work?”

  Mrs. Mac smiled. “He has a wonderful raw talent, but his delivery is too forced. Like he’s thinking too hard. He needs somebody like you to run lines with. Maybe he’ll pick up some of your subtlety. Rehearsing with you should help. Will you do it?”

  Thoughts zinged around my mind, the loudest one being, Oh, hell no! That was the last thing I needed—to spend time with someone who drove me absolutely bonkers. But I totally had to. If there was any way it could help me get this part, I would do it. I’d lost Adam. I couldn’t lose acting, too. “Of course,” I said. “I’ll be happy to help.”

  Eight

  Berger

  At Mrs. Mac’s signal, I pushed open the door and strolled down the aisle, trying to pull off an air of, Hey, the theater teacher wants to talk to me personally. No big deal. Happens all the time.

  It totally didn’t work. Halfway down, my sneaker caught on the carpet, and I did a weird shuffle step to get back in rhythm. Dork alert! Of course they were watching me. I kept my gaze somewhere in between them. No sense in searching for the smirk that had to be on Lindsey’s face.

  Mrs. Mac gestured to the row behind them, so I slid in and dropped into a seat.

  “Trey,” Mrs. Mac said, “thank you for waiting. I enjoyed your audition, but there are some things I’d like you to work on. Lindsey has agreed to run lines with you.”

  “Oh?”

  Lindsey gave me a tight-lipped nod. Looked like she didn’t really want to do this. Not sure I was too pumped about it, either.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Mac said. “I think that after a few weeks rehears�
��”

  “Weeks?” Lindsey and I said at the same time.

  Mrs. Mac chuckled. “After a few weeks rehearsing together, I think you’ll pick up on some of Lindsey’s artistry.”

  Amazingly, Lindsey blushed.

  The teacher pulled a pencil from her hair and rolled it between her fingers. “It’ll be good for both of you, I think.”

  How? But I couldn’t say that out loud.

  “I’ll expect a report Thursday on how it’s going,” Mrs. Mac said. “So arrange some time between the two of you.” She stood. “Any questions?”

  About a million. Including: Are you trying to make my life a living hell? But Lindsey shook her head, so I’d go along. For now. “Nope,” I said.

  “Good,” Mrs. Mac replied. “Then I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  Lindsey and I gathered our stuff and walked out of the theater building, not speaking. What was going through her mind? Couldn’t be anything good. We stopped at the edge of the parking lot, the chilly breeze lifting our hair.

  “So?” I asked.

  She messed with the zipper on her purse, closing it partway, then opening it again. “I can’t do this today.”

  She sounded so miserable that an unexpected pang of sympathy made me curb my snarky comment. “Yeah, I know you’re thinking just my luck, right?”

  She frowned and angled her head toward me. “What did you say?”

  What’d I do now? “Uh, that you must be thinking—”

  “Never mind. I heard you.”

  Then why are you acting so weird? “I didn’t mean anything rude.”

  “Just my luck,” she repeated, staring out at some distant point.

  What? You like the dry cleaners over there? “So, when can you get together?”

  She dragged her lower teeth over her upper lip. “Tomorrow after school.”

  I’d be getting home really late if I had to do both drama club and then rehearse with her. The parents were not going to like that. “Think it’s okay if we skip the auditions?”