Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  Parker hopped to attention in front of me, blocking my view of the others, who edged closer. “Command me, O wise one.”

  I waved him out of the way with a smile. “All right,” I called out so everyone could hear me. “Let’s take our places for the opening scene.”

  Thirty

  Berger

  Kara glanced around at the backstage rooms, then slung a long section of dark hair back over her shoulder, and leaned closer.

  What was going on? Why couldn’t she just say the next line? She was apparently a master of the dramatic pause. I scooted my folding chair back an inch and waited.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You know, I don’t tell a lot of people about this, but I’m getting the feeling you might understand it.” Her voice lifted on the last couple of words—almost like she was singing them.

  “Um, wait. We’re supposed to be rehearsing.”

  “In a sec.” She dug a slip of paper out of her pocket. “I keep this ready in case I meet someone who would be appropriate.” She held it out to me.

  “Okay,” I said, taking it from her automatically. I unfolded the paper and saw a URL that included the words “UFO sightings.” You’ve got to be kidding. The girl with the gorgeous, long black hair and the weird way of talking was interested in aliens? And she thought I would be appropriate? Just what exactly did that say about me?

  She watched me with such an intense gaze that I scooted back another inch. It would be super mean to laugh in her face, wouldn’t it? I pressed my lips together. “So, UFOs, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  That was it? No explanation? Was she waiting for me to express my love for them or something?

  She leaned even closer. “There are sightings all the time. Aliens are probably around us every day,” she said, her voice rising again.

  I looked around. Was I being pranked? I wouldn’t put it past Lindsey to do something like this—except that things still weren’t back to normal between us after our fight. “Sounds cool.”

  She smiled. “I thought you might think so.” Voices and footsteps echoed toward us. Kara’s gaze flicked to the front of house, then back to me. “Just check out the website.”

  I nodded, beyond grateful for whoever was coming.

  “… really doesn’t mean anything by it,” a girl’s voice said.

  “Ha, right. Miss Queen always thinks she knows—” Marta broke off when she saw us sitting there. “Oh, hey, what’re y’all doing here?”

  She and Lainey stood shoulder to shoulder, both a little pink in the face. Probably wondering how much we’d heard of their conversation, which, if I had to guess, was about Lindsey’s directing them today.

  “We’re rehearsing,” Kara sang out.

  “I’m still the resident noob actor,” I said. “Everybody has to help me. You guys should watch out. You’ll probably have to do it soon, too.”

  Marta huffed out a laugh. “I doubt it.”

  Lainey grinned and ran a hand through her blond-streaked dark hair. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  I smiled back. Yup, I was right. She had been flirtier recently. It was probably about time I asked her out. “Good. I’ll put you on the list for Mrs. Mac.”

  Marta grabbed Lainey’s arm. “Come on. We only have a few more minutes before we have to get back.”

  Lainey waved as she was towed away. “See ya.”

  “Bye,” I said, watching them walk away.

  Kara cleared her throat. “Okay, where were we?” She flipped the pages of her script.

  Right. Back to our lines. No need to keep staring at Lainey’s backside. Or wonder what exactly Lindsey was doing to upset Marta.

  Thirty-One

  Lindsey

  “Wait, guys,” I called out. “Let’s do that last exchange again, this time with a little more subtlety.”

  Marta scowled at me. She wasn’t even trying to hide her irritation anymore. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it. If she wasn’t going to do her best in the scene, then I’d make her redo it until she did.

  “Subtlety?” Mike asked.

  Not that he needed it. This was all about Marta’s overacting. “Yeah, just tone everything down a little.”

  He nodded. “Sounds good.”

  They went through the lines again, but Marta’s voice was so tight she sounded like someone had autotuned her to a high soprano. I inhaled deeply, getting ready to ask them to do it again, when Mrs. Mac spoke in my ear. “I’m calling it for today. She’s too angry to make it work.”

  Uh-oh. Was Mrs. Mac mad at me? I’d only been trying to make the play better.

  Our teacher stood and motioned everyone forward. Mike, Marta, Lainey, and Blake got out of the pretend car and strolled to the edge of the stage. Parker walked up next to them. “Very good, everyone,” Mrs. Mac said. “We’ll pick up here tomorrow.”

  Once they’d turned toward the wings, she angled her head at me. “So, here’s your first lesson as a director. If your actors are too angry to listen to you, nothing is accomplished. Keep that in mind for tomorrow, all right?”

  “Okay. But I’m not sure how to keep from making”—I lowered my voice—“from making Marta angry. We don’t usually get along as it is.”

  Mrs. Mac felt above her ear for a pencil, but for some reason there weren’t any. She let her hand drop. “Look for the things she’s doing well and make sure you compliment those things. It should help.”

  I stood. “Okay, thanks. I’ll try that.”

  ***

  The next afternoon, Mrs. Mac started the rehearsal first, then let me take over ten minutes in. At different times, I complimented Marta on her stage presence, Mike on his delivery, Lainey on her body language, and Blake on his antics playing the boy Arthur—although I really thought Berger could do it better. Marta was more relaxed than yesterday and had stopped giving me teeth-sucking looks. But she was still turning Ma Kirby’s character into a cartoon, and my jaw hurt from clenching.

  At one point, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Okay, so, Marta, could you repeat that line as if you were bored?”

  She looked confused. “Bored?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess.” She said her line in a monotone.

  “Perfect,” I said. “See, somewhere in between that and the previous take on it is probably where Ma Kirby lives.”

  She frowned and chewed on her lower lip. “Okay,” she finally said, and I let out a quiet exhale.

  Mrs. Mac stood. “All right, five-minute break, everybody.” She sat back down beside me. “Good job. Very diplomatic. I think you finally got through to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if this changes everything.”

  “Thanks.”

  She headed out of our row of seats. I scratched my head. Why couldn’t she see that we wouldn’t be wasting so much time on this if I was up there instead of Marta? I should’ve been up there. It was ridiculous. I got up to stretch my legs and found Berger waiting at the end of the row, his expression determined.

  Dang it. He was going to ask me about our fight again, and I just didn’t want to talk about it. I’d have to put him off. I approached slowly.

  “Is it really that bad?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “The play.”

  “Oh, no.” I rubbed my head, then flicked my hand. “Just have a headache.”

  He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, making him look crazy cute all of a sudden. No. Do not think of Berger as cute. No good can come from it. “You busy after this?” he asked. “We still need to settle things.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing to settle. We’re good. No worries.”

  He backed up so I could get into the aisle. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  I lifted my hands. “Hey, I don’t know. That’s not something I can control.”

  “Lindsey,” he said, staring as if he could see inside my head.

  And I really didn’t want anyone analyzing me. “I need to get to the restroom before we start a
gain.”

  “I’m not letting go of this.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Trey,” Lainey called from the stage. “Come here for a sec.” Kara stood behind her a few steps, motioning to him.

  Why was he so popular with girls these days? I raised an eyebrow. “Your fan club awaits.”

  He waved at them but moved a fraction closer to me. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

  I puffed out a loud breath. “Nice cliché usage. I’m not afraid of you, Dragon Boy.” I pushed him down the aisle. “Go on. They’re waiting for you.”

  He walked on, but then paused and turned back. “I mean it.”

  I nodded and headed the opposite direction. I didn’t want to watch him laugh and flirt with Lainey and Kara. It felt too much like watching our friendship dwindle into nothing.

  Thirty-Two

  Lindsey

  At my weekly grocery shopping on Saturday, I debated with myself over giving football player Jeremy Farina another chance. The pros were that he was nice looking with a great smile and unlimited muscles. The cons were that there was no spark, no connection. I’d spent a lot of time this past week walking with him to class and eating lunch with him, and I’d had to fake my interest. It just wasn’t happening naturally.

  I shook open a plastic bag and put a crown of broccoli in it, then headed for the potatoes. I wished I hadn’t forgotten my headphones. The store music was stuck in a Mariah Carey loop. Focus, Lindsey. Right. Jeremy. I probably didn’t need to actually be in love with a new lucky boy—just spend enough time with him that my luck would improve. But how much time would it take? And did I really want to invest that time in Jeremy?

  But if I didn’t, I’d need to start over with another guy from my list. Maybe I should just hang out with one of the theater boys. At least I really liked them. I would totally do it, if they just wouldn’t go all weird thinking I wanted to be more than friends.

  I set a bag of baking potatoes in the grocery cart, looked up, and froze. Only fifteen feet away, by the bakery section, stood Adam with Brisa. He was eating a donut and looking at her with an amused expression on his face. My heart flipped over once, and then, even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I swore it stopped beating.

  I had to move on, go before they saw me, but I couldn’t look away. Brisa reached up and brushed something out of the dark stubble on Adam’s cheek. The gesture was so familiar that I actually felt the roughness along his jaw. My fingers twitched involuntarily, and I tightened them around the cart’s plastic-covered handle.

  A toddler shrieked from a nearby shopping cart. Adam looked over and saw me. He didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. He gazed straight into my eyes for two seconds, and then looked away. Such a short amount of time, but it was like he’d acted out our breakup all over again.

  And all the pain I’d kept at bay through theater, and lucky charms, and other people, came rushing over those barriers, flooding my entire body. Voices around me resonated like we were in a long tunnel, and a woman said, “All right, sweetie, it’s okay. Mommy’s almost finished. Then we can have lunch.”

  I was shaking. I wanted to scream at her. It is not okay! Can’t you see that? It never will be!

  And then I was moving, slowly, so that I didn’t damage anything or anyone, so that I didn’t draw attention to myself. I pushed the cart away from the bakery section, away from Adam and Brisa. I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t know how I was going to finish the shopping. And Mom would be mad because she wanted milk and I didn’t have the milk yet, so I grabbed that thought like a lifeline and went to the dairy section. I added the gallon of milk and half gallon of soy milk to my cart as if I were a normal shopper. As if I could actually process where I was and what I was doing.

  I made my way to the shortest checkout line. I was not going to fall apart. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t finish the shopping. It wasn’t a total disaster. I’d remembered the milk.

  The checker tallied my groceries while I fumbled with my wallet—not able to feel my fingers—trying to get my mom’s credit card out. Once I did, I ran it through the machine, pushing buttons by habit, not daring to look up in case I saw Adam again.

  And then, miraculously, I was finished. I pushed the cart out into the bright, chilly day and headed for my dad’s SUV. I inhaled a shuddering breath, my heart suddenly deciding to beat again.

  It’s going to be okay. You remembered the milk.

  Thirty-Three

  Berger

  After Mom left the kitchen to help Nana get ready for bed, I tilted my chair back on two legs. Dad slid his empty ice cream bowl out of the way and leaned his chin on his hand. “You’re going to break your neck,” he said, “which will be very inconvenient.”

  Ashley popped me hard on the kneecap with her spoon.

  “Ow!” I dropped my chair to the floor with a bang. “What was that for?”

  She sent me a sickly sweet smile. “Just trying to save your neck.”

  “At the expense of my knee,” I said.

  “Yeah, there are always trade-offs in safety.”

  “Says who?”

  Dad set his glasses on his head and rubbed his eyes. “Would you two stop, please? It’s been a long day.”

  “Sorry,” Ashley said.

  “Yeah, sorry Dad,” I said. “But you have to give us some points for being nice to each other while Nana was at the table.”

  He pressed the heels of hands against his eyes, not saying anything. I sent Ash a questioning look. She shrugged, then gathered a couple of empty ice cream bowls, and took them to the sink. I grabbed the rest and followed her. Our parents must not have been telling us about something being wrong at the coffee shop. I opened my mouth to ask when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I moved away from Ashley as I dug out my phone.

  Lindsey: Can you come over?

  Huh. That was unexpected. Lindsey had acted weird all week at school, hanging around the football dude again and insisting that everything was fine between us, even though we’d never really talked over our argument at Claire’s house. And she’d abandoned me, leaving me to work with scary UFO Kara.

  I didn’t really feel like talking to Lindsey after the week I’d had. But I didn’t want to skip the chance to get our easy friendship back.

  Berger: Now?

  Lindsey: Yeah. I’ll make hot chocolate!

  That clinched it. I needed to get over there.

  My dad was staring across the room at nothing. I strolled closer. “Any problem with me going over to Lindsey’s house?”

  He frowned up at me. “Now?” He glared at his watch. “At nine thirty at night?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “Who’s Lindsey, anyway?” he asked.

  “A friend from school. You know, the girl I’ve been rehearsing with for the play?”

  Ashley let out a quiet laugh. “She’s more than just that.”

  I gave her a dirty look. I so did not want to go there.

  “Are her parents home?” Dad asked.

  “Let me check.”

  Berger: Your parents there?

  Lindsey: At a late dinner with my brother. Back soon.

  I passed that info along, and my dad sighed like he was exhausted. “Okay,” he said. “Be back by midnight.”

  “Thanks,” I said, heading for the door. “I can take your car?”

  He waved a hand.

  “Have fun, Doodles,” Ashley said.

  There was so much snark in her tone that I swung around and blinked my eyelashes at her. “I will, Pot Pie.”

  ***

  I followed Lindsey into her brightly lit kitchen where music played and something smelled like chocolate.

  “You’re gonna love this,” she said over her shoulder.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.” She stopped in front of a pan on the stove and pointed. “Look.”

  The rich scent of warm chocolate enveloped me as I leaned closer. I inhaled d
eeply and shut my eyes.

  Lindsey laughed. “I know, right?”

  “Shh. You’re ruining the moment.”

  “Ha.” She pushed me aside and ladled the hot chocolate into two mugs.

  “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” I said, reaching for a mug. “The powder stuff would’ve been fine.”

  She held up a hand. “Wait. You’ll miss the best part.” She grabbed a bottle of clear liquid and poured some into one mug.

  “What’s that?”

  She grinned. “Heaven in a bottle. Peppermint schnapps.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, but no.”

  Her face fell. “Seriously? You’re no fun.”

  I shook my head. “That kind of stuff makes my legs feel like noodles, and since a noodle can’t depress a car’s accelerator, I’d better not. I’d never get home.”

  She capped the bottle and set it aside. “Oh, all right. But you’re missing out.” She turned off the burner under the hot chocolate.

  We took our mugs to the kitchen table and sat. Lindsey blew on her drink, then sipped it. “Ah, that’s so good. I can’t believe you don’t want any.”

  I sipped my hot chocolate, its sweet warmth sliding across my throat. “This is amazing just like it is.” She smiled and drank some more. And since it was already ten o’clock, I figured I’d better cut to the chase. “So, did you just want company, or are we finally going to talk about our fight?”

  “I’ve already told you that we’re good. I forgive you. What else do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know. It just seems like there’s something else. Something you’re not saying.”

  She took another sip and sighed. “I have no idea what that would be.”

  “Okay, let’s try an experiment.”

  She gave me a wary look. “What?”

  “Shut your eyes.”

  “Why?”