Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  I wanted to laugh. I also wanted to put my hand on his face and shove him back onto the couch. “Would you relax?”

  “Are you kidding? This is way too exciting.”

  “Come on, then,” I said, leading the way to the front door. I had to stop the FedEx guy from ringing our doorbell.

  We spilled out onto the front walk, jostling each other and laughing. Berger was worse than my brother, Austin. I started to stride forward, but Berger grabbed my elbow. “Have a little dignity,” he said, laughter still in his voice.

  “I would if you’d just let go.”

  “All right.” He released me.

  By this time, the delivery guy was approaching us slowly, as if we were rabid dogs or something. I hurried forward and met him before he’d even made it halfway. “Lindsey Taylor?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Here you go,” he said, handing me a padded mailer the length of a piece of paper.

  My heart thudded somewhere near my throat. My luck was about to change. “Thanks.”

  The guy headed back to the truck. I turned. Berger watched me with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. “Well?”

  I made myself walk to where he waited. How could I get out of telling him what was inside? “Well, what?”

  “Is it everything you wished for?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  We headed for the house. Behind us, the engine of the delivery truck roared as the guy drove off.

  “Aren’t you even going to open it?” Berger asked.

  I had to mash down on the urge to rip the mailer open. Inside, I hoped, would be the three beaded bracelets I’d ordered. Wearing those had seemed the easiest way to jump-start my good luck without a lot of questions from people. I held up the package. “I think I need scissors.”

  “No you don’t.” He took the package and pulled an opening strip across the mailer, then handed it back to me with a grin. “You’re welcome.”

  Okay, now I felt dumb. Inside, a paper invoice nestled among the individual plastic bags of bracelets. I couldn’t keep from smiling. I wanted to drag them all out right there on the front lawn and put them on. That wouldn’t be too crazy, would it?

  “What is it?” Berger asked.

  I worked to make my voice sound casual. “Just some bracelets I ordered.”

  “Which your mother doesn’t know about.”

  “Right.”

  Just then, the front door opened, and my mom stepped out, her arms crossed over her chest against the cold.

  Gulp. “Take this,” I hissed to Berger and shoved the mailer into his stomach.

  His eyes widened at me. “What am I supposed to do with it?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

  Mom’s gaze was on the street behind us. “Did I just hear a delivery truck?”

  I spoke to Berger out of the side of my mouth. “You charmed her once. Do it again.” I motioned toward the car. We walked steadily closer. “No truck. We just needed to get something from the car.”

  Now my mom’s full attention was on the package in Berger’s hands. “Oh?”

  If my heart had lodged in my throat earlier, now it was practically jumping out of my mouth.

  Berger, however, wore an easy smile. He held up the package. “Just my play notes.”

  She smiled back at him and ushered us inside. “It’s so cold. Why don’t you kids have your jackets on?”

  “We were only out for a minute, Mom.” We moved as a group into the living room.

  “But you got your … ?”

  “My notes,” Berger said. “I made notes about the play on index cards. I’m still really new at this. I feel like I’m never going to be prepared.”

  She gave him an indulgent smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. I think you’ll do fine.” She surveyed the empty snack tray. “Would you like anything else to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Taylor,” he said. “This was great.”

  “Very good, then,” she said. “Excuse me, I have a few more calls to make.” And she left the room.

  I collapsed into the armchair, bent over, and put my face in my hands. That had been close. So close. I wasn’t stupid enough to think she might never find out about all I ordered, but maybe if my luck changed fast enough, she wouldn’t. I looked up to find Berger watching me, his expression somewhere between laughter and irritation.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He sat on the couch and tossed the mailer beside him. “You’re welcome. I think.” He spoke quietly. “I didn’t really like being sucked into your—”

  “I’m sorry. It all happened too fast.”

  He rubbed his forehead again. This time with his fingertips. “I don’t like lying to people,” he whispered.

  “I know. I’m sorry. On the bright side, you’re a really good actor.”

  He let out a reluctant laugh. “Ya think?”

  I smiled. “I do.”

  But he didn’t return the smile. He tugged his phone out of his jeans and checked it. “I need to be getting home.”

  “Oh, okay. But can we work for another five minutes? So it doesn’t look like we brought your notes in for nothing?”

  He shook his head slowly. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  You have to when you have secrets. “I try.”

  Twelve

  Berger

  At dinner that night, Nana acted perfectly normal. No side effects from that morning’s panic and fear. At least none that I could see. But it still felt like I had to tiptoe around her or I might set off another weird reaction.

  I sighed and set aside my book of poems by Robert Frost. Usually those relaxed me, but I kept thinking about the play at school. If I could just look over my lines again, they might come more naturally when Lindsey and I rehearsed. A short rap sounded on my door.

  “Yeah?”

  Ashley stuck her head in. “Got a sec?”

  “Sure.”

  She plopped down next to me on the couch, the old leather groaning. “I need to make a change in our weekly schedule.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Why?”

  “I just found out that when my psychology class starts next week I’m expected to join a study group. The one I want meets on Thursday afternoons, so I was hoping you’d switch days with me.”

  That was probably okay. “For when?”

  “Wednesdays. I can leave class a little early and be here by four, so you can take your time getting home. And you’ll take Thursdays for me. If that’s okay, I figured we might as well start this week, just to get into the routine of it.”

  Ashley and her routines. She’d always liked things done in a certain way at a certain time. She wasn’t exactly OCD about it, but sometimes she seemed close.

  Hmm. How would Lindsey feel to have to practice here? She might not want to rehearse at all. But Mrs. Mac wanted us to report in on Thursday. “I have to talk to the theater teacher this Thursday, and it might make me late. Is Maggie cool with staying an extra five or ten minutes for Nana?”

  “Probably. I don’t know. It hasn’t come up.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Like you’ll talk me up to your friends so they’ll all want to go out with me?”

  She stood and clasped her hands behind her back in a long stretch. “Don’t get cocky, Doodles.”

  I fluttered my eyelashes at her. “Me? Cocky? Never.”

  She laughed as she headed out of the room. “You’re so weird.”

  “It’s the only way to be,” I said.

  I got up to close the door she’d left open, then snagged the script from my backpack. Another day, another person to keep happy. I was two out of three for the day—Nana, Lindsey, and Ashley. How many would it be tomorrow?

  ***

  “And then they all sat down on the ground as if that were completely normal!” Lindsey said to her aud
ience, who practically rolled on the floor laughing.

  There were two extra guys in her entourage at lunch today. That golf team dude and some other jock. Thank goodness they were at the other end of the table. I looked at Rose across from me and shrugged.

  She smiled. “So I hear you two are rehearsing together. How’s it going?”

  “Not bad. We’ve haven’t torn each other’s throats out yet.”

  “Is that a possibility?” She bit into her sandwich.

  “With Lindsey, anything is possible.”

  “True.” She chewed slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You might have to cut her some slack,” she said finally, looking beyond Claire and Gray—who were in their own little world—toward Lindsey. “You know, ’cause of the … ”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, even though I didn’t really get it. Why did everyone think they needed to baby her? “She seems to be doing fine, though.”

  Rose’s expression looked so determined all of a sudden that I wanted to turn away. But I didn’t. “She’s a really good actress,” she said.

  Everyone knows that. “I know.”

  “In every part of her life.”

  I nodded. So, all Lindsey’s friends were sure she was hiding a devastating heartbreak. She could be, but the only thing I could see she was hiding was her online spending habits. Huh. Were those connected? Was she doing the emotional shopping thing? Who knew? Or even cared? She would do whatever she needed to get through any heartbreak.

  I glanced back down the table. Lindsey waved her arms around while she talked, light glinting off her multicolored beaded bracelets. Were those the new ones she’d bought? Probably. She looked happy enough.

  The ones who didn’t look happy were Mike and Parker. Mike twirled his fork around his empty plate, keeping his eyes on the jock who was tilting his chair back on two legs. I could just picture what was going through his mind: How can I knock him backward and make it look like an accident?

  Parker’s mouth was pinched like he’d just bitten into something sour. Maybe I should walk by and rest my hand on Lindsey’s shoulder or something. He might actually snarl at me. Half a snort escaped my lips.

  Rose glanced up, a question in her eyes. I tilted my head toward the other end of the table. She smiled, then leaned closer. “She needs this.”

  “To irritate her boys?” I whispered.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I guess.” Whatever. Was Lindsey really in as bad of shape as Rose thought? “I don’t think you guys give her enough credit.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. She can handle herself. She’s been doing it for years, right?”

  Rose pursed her lips and eyed me with an unreadable look. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  Thirteen

  Lindsey

  Backstage, I pulled a chair across the cement floor toward the mirror where Berger stood frowning at me. “Grab a few more, would you?” I asked, pointing to the folding chairs against the wall.

  He carried over three chairs under his arm. “What exactly are we doing?”

  “I want to show you how this is usually staged. There aren’t sets in this play.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you seen it before?”

  “No.”

  “Then this might help.”

  “All right,” he said, sounding like he disagreed. He set the chairs down and together we unfolded them. “What now?” he asked.

  “Help me with a riser.”

  We dragged a riser over, placed two chairs on it, and then positioned the other two on the floor in front of it. “It’s supposed to look like a car, because the family is on a trip, right?” I asked, not really meaning it as a question. I just wanted to make sure he understood.

  He puffed out a noisy exhale. “Yeah.”

  “So you sit in that chair behind the driver, and I’ll sit in the front passenger seat. I’m Ma Kirby, and you’re my son, Arthur.”

  He just stared at me.

  I flicked my hand toward his chair. “Sit.”

  “I just don’t see—”

  “You will.” I sat in the front chair, waiting for him to follow my example.

  “Okay, okay.” Up on the riser, he wedged himself into the chair, his knees sticking out on either side of the seat in front of him. We stared at each other in the mirror.

  “Here’s the challenge,” I said. “Your lines were much better today, but let’s do some of them again.” I pointed to us in the mirror. “This is what the audience sees. Pretend there are people in the empty chairs. There’s no use acting like a kid by jiggling your right leg or scratching your foot if the audience can’t even see it.”

  He slumped a little, losing the tight look of his shoulders. “Oh.”

  I gave a short nod. “Right. So, Arthur, your older sister is sitting beside you and your father is driving. Now that you can’t run around, how do you bring out the character of a thirteen-year-old boy?”

  Berger looked at the space around us. “I can bug my sister.”

  “How?”

  “Depends on the dialogue. But I could pull her hair or elbow her.”

  “Good. Okay, let’s try a few lines.” I flipped through my script quickly, looking at Arthur’s lines. “All right. Right here, your line at the bottom of page twelve.”

  Berger turned the pages of his copy. “‘Ma, when is the next comfort station?’”

  I answered him as Ma Kirby, then had to do the lines of his character’s sister, Caroline. We’d just finished going over that section three times when light applause rang out across the room. Mrs. Mac walked into view. “Very nice. I knew it was a good idea to put you two together. I don’t need a report tomorrow; I can see how well you’re doing. Just keep up the good work.”

  My breath caught in my throat. This was not something I’d have wanted her to see. I hadn’t really been acting, just feeding Berger lines. I’d also been directing him, which was really close to stepping into her role. Did it bother her? I wasn’t sure. She still looked pleased with us, so that was good.

  Berger, on the other hand, had hopped off his chair and turned bright red at Mrs. Mac’s words. Ha. I’d never seen him blush before. I had to admit, it was kind of cute.

  “We’re all finished,” Mrs. Mac said, gesturing toward the auditorium. “So, you can call it a day as well.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “We’ll just put this stuff back first.”

  “See you later,” Mrs. Mac said, walking toward her office.

  When she was out of sight, Berger swung toward me, his eyes huge. “That was good, right?” he whispered.

  “I think so,” I said quietly. “Maybe it’ll make a difference in who she picks for the play.”

  He grabbed his folding chair. “If we’re chosen, it’ll be both awesome and terrifying.”

  “Yup.” He’d summed it up in a nutshell. Acting still made me nervous sometimes, even though I’d been doing it for years.

  We leaned the chairs against the wall, but then, as we moved the riser, Berger’s gaze fell on my wrist. “Your bracelets look nice together.”

  “Thanks.” That was sweet, but I didn’t want him to examine them too closely. He’d probably ask what the words on each bracelet’s charm meant, and I really didn’t want to go there.

  I couldn’t suppress a smile, though. The bracelets had totally worked. Today was the best day I’d had in two weeks. In fact—I checked the time on my phone—it was 4:15. I was supposed to meet Jeremy Farina in the auditorium in five minutes, and I needed to be there so I could watch where he sat. If it was anywhere near Adam’s old seat, it would be more confirmation that my luck had changed. Hopefully for good.

  Berger and I started walking toward the wings. “Oh,” he said, “do you mind if we rehearse at my house tomorrow afternoon?”

  That might be interesting. I could find out what Dragon Boy’s lair looked like. “Sure. Why?”

  “M
y grandma just moved in, and someone has to be there all the time. She’s been wandering off.”

  An image of my granny smiling at me appeared unexpectedly, and I wrapped my arms around my stomach. “Oh. Wow. Sorry she does that. But I would so love to have my grandmother living with me.”

  “Where does she live now?”

  “She doesn’t. She’s dead.” I stopped near the stage. A few drama club peeps were still standing around talking. The auditorium door opened. Jeremy stepped inside and waited in front of the double doors. His large frame practically filled the whole door. A little thrill shot through me. Where would he sit?

  “Holy crap, Lindsey,” Berger said. “I’m sorry.”

  Huh? “About what?”

  “Your grandmother, what else?”

  I glanced at Berger. Right, we were having a conversation about our grandmothers. “Oh, it’s okay,” I said. “It was a long time ago.” Jeremy was looking around like he was trying to find me. Go sit down, go sit down.

  “What are we staring at?” Berger asked from behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder.

  If anybody else had done that, I might’ve thought he was making a play. But not Berger. I’d never met a guy who seemed so totally not interested in me. I shrugged my shoulder and laughed. “Get off, Dragon Boy.”

  He straightened. “It’s the football player, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. We’re supposed to go have coffee.”

  “How very twenty-something of you.”

  “Ha, ha.” Jeremy started walking down the aisle. I held my breath.

  “Wait,” Berger said. “What do you mean ‘supposed to go’? Have you changed your mind?”

  Jeremy paused right near Adam’s row. Come on. “No, it’s just … ” He eyed the people talking down front, then backed up two steps. He dropped into a seat right on the aisle. Nowhere near Adam’s chair. Crap.

  “It’s just what?”

  I let out my breath through my teeth. Why couldn’t he have kept going? It would be so awesome to date someone who brought me the same kind of luck Adam had. Now I didn’t want to go out with him at all.