Exit Stage Left

by Nall, Gail

  “Where’s Trevor?” I ask Harrison, who’s leaning against the brick wall of the school out front, reading something on his phone.

  “Gone,” he says. “Headed to the parking lot with Danielle a few minutes ago.”

  “Seriously? Dammit, I was so ready to get it over with, too.” I lean on the wall next to Harrison and sigh. “Now I’m going to have to wait until Monday.”

  He wraps an arm around me and I lean my head on his shoulder, which is something of a maneuver since I’ve got a few inches on him.

  “So tell me about this basket-weaving thing,” he says.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I consider a breakup-by-text, but that just feels wrong and unsatisfying. And I fight the urge to find Oliver and spill everything to him. He’s been my best listener over the past few months, but I can’t expect him to offer me advice on this situation. I have to figure it out on my own.

  So I get to school early Monday morning and stake out Trevor’s locker. People trickle in. I say hi to Kelly, chat with Harrison and Chris. Things feel like they’re approaching normal again when I smile at Amanda. She gives me an almost-smile, and now I’m even more determined to get this dumping thing done and over with. I’ve made my decision on what’s most important to me, and I’m past ready to follow through on it. I clutch the strap of my backpack in my hand and check my phone. It’s two minutes until eight. Where is he?

  Then I see him. “Hey, Trevor!” I wave at him with false enthusiasm. He probably thinks I’m on something, since I’ve barely talked to him in the last few days.

  “I’m glad you’re finally here,” I say as he approaches. “I need to talk to you—” I shut up the second I see Danielle appear from behind Trevor. God, it’s like they’re joined at the hip. Almost like the way I used to be with him. The thought makes my stomach regret that bagel I had this morning, and I wonder whether she’s seen the inside of the props room. She also probably has no idea how horrible he really is.

  “Hi, Danielle,” I say as nicely as possible. “Don’t you need to get your books for class?”

  She grins at me. The little creep. “Nope! I’m all set! I’m so glad it’s a new week! Don’t you just love starting over again every week?!”

  “Not really,” I mumble. The bell rings.

  “Gotta go,” Trevor says. He slams his locker door shut. “See you guys later!” And then he disappears into the crowd. Danielle trails after him. I just stand there, watching them leave.

  Did u do it? Harrison texts me during English, our last class of the day.

  No. Can’t get him away from D.

  Aft rehearsal. Got an idea.

  I silently thank Harrison for being a better friend than I deserve. After I check in with Amanda to make sure Trevor hasn’t been after her again (he hasn’t, probably because she’s been going out of her way to avoid him), I glance over at Harrison and raise my eyebrows, trying to deduce what his idea might be. I might be pretty good at this Sherlock Holmes thing. I wonder if there’s a market for old-fashioned mystery-solvers.

  Harrison just shrugs and smiles. The second the bell rings, I corner him outside the door.

  “What?” I demand.

  “It’s not complicated,” he says. “I’ll distract Danielle after rehearsal so you can talk to Trevor.”

  “Oh,” I say. I was expecting something involving dark clothes or camouflage. I could lurk around the corner and send hand signals to Harrison as we wait for Trevor to show up.

  “What’s wrong with it? I thought it was a good idea,” Harrison says.

  “Nothing. It’s fine. Thanks for helping me.”

  “No problem. I’m just ready to have Normal Casey back, instead of Possessed Casey.” Harrison grins and ducks out of the way as I try to smack him. “See you in a few!” he yells down the hallway.

  I stop by my locker and then go to the theater. We have a few more days of rehearsal before opening night on Friday.

  “I can’t wait to get this play done with,” I say to Harrison as we sit in the theater.

  “I don’t know,” he says.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought you hated this as much as me. Remember how Ms. Sharp put us in these completely undeserved, lowly roles? Remember the death knell for all our college plans in New York? Remember The List?” I feel like standing up and putting my hands on my hips.

  Harrison shrugs. “I kind of like my part, now that I’m used to it. Mostly, I just like being onstage with everyone.”

  “Are you seriously deserting our mission now?”

  “Silence!” Ms. Sharp’s voice rings out and everyone immediately shuts up. “We have four days until curtain. Four. Days. We need to be perfect. I will not tolerate any flubs or messing around. We run straight through, no stopping.”

  “Places!” is all Hannah gets to call.

  We all scurry backstage, and when Jenna calls the lights and the curtain, the old excitement at being this close to a performance flutters through me. I move through the show without missing a beat.

  When rehearsal ends, Ms. Sharp gives a twenty-minute lecture complete with hand-flailing on everything that went wrong. After she runs out of air, I make sure Amanda leaves, then I grab Harrison, and we wait by the propped-open theater door.

  “Here they come,” I whisper when I see Trevor and Danielle.

  “Hey there, fellow thespians.” Oliver slaps Harrison on the back. Harrison stumbles and pushes his glasses back into place. “What’s going on?” He throws an arm around each of our shoulders.

  “Um . . . I kind of have to do something right now,” I tell him, in the nicest way possible while trying not to think about the weight of his arm around my shoulders.

  Oliver wrinkles his forehead. “Like what? Rehearsal’s over. I think Ms. Sharp is losing it. You guys weren’t lying about her.” He lets go of Harrison and pulls on the collar of his Journey T-shirt, probably remembering the way she screamed at him for standing three inches off his mark during his first scene.

  “She gets really intense,” Harrison agrees.

  Danielle and Trevor are only steps away. I reluctantly peel myself away from Oliver and elbow Harrison hard in the ribs.

  “Ouch! Really, Casey. You don’t have to injure me.” Harrison rubs his side and looks over Oliver’s shoulder toward Danielle and Trevor. “Hey! Danielle!” he yells at the top of his lungs. He steps around Oliver and snags Danielle by the elbow. I totally owe him one.

  “I need your help with something.” Harrison practically drags Danielle back down the aisle toward the stage. Danielle turns around to say something to Trevor, but doesn’t. For once, she’s silent.

  “Trevor!” I say around Oliver.

  “Hey, Case.” He gives me that body-melting smile.

  I tear my eyes away and look at Oliver. “Um, can we have a minute?”

  Oliver looks back and forth between me and Trevor. He shrugs. But instead of going out the door, though, he walks very, very slowly down one of the aisles.

  “What’s going on?” Trevor says, reaching for my hand. His hair falls into his eyes, but he’s still looking right at me.

  For a moment, I can’t remember why I want to break up with him.

  “Casey?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Um . . .” This is so much harder than it ever was before. Because I know this is really the end.

  I swallow. I need to do this. I remember the way he’s acting with Danielle and about how they’ve probably been having their own Alcove of Sin rendezvous while I’ve been stressing about why he won’t stay focused on me. How he tried to do the same thing with Amanda. How he never took me seriously until I pretty much forced him to—and that still didn’t work. How he completely brushed off my concerns when I confronted him about Danielle. How downright mean he’s been to Amanda.

  And then I get mad.

  “I thought you knew me so well, but really, you don’t know me at all.”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I think I know yo
u really well.”

  I have to fight to keep from screaming. “Not like that. I mean, for real. Like, who I actually am. What I want. What I hope for. What I’m sad about. Why I’m angry.”

  “God, is this going to be another episode of you yelling at me again for even looking at someone else? Because I’m kind of over that, Casey.”

  Anger simmers and I let it boil out. “No, it’s not. This is going to be me, telling you exactly how things are. First, I am done with you and Danielle and you and every other girl you’ve tried to get with.”

  He blinks at me with those big brown eyes. I wonder if I was ever attracted to anything beyond how he looks and the way he sings. “Danielle? Again? Now come on—”

  “Yes, Danielle. Please don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about. The pretend-ignorance thing isn’t really attractive. And you’d brush it under the rug every single time and try to make me think I was imagining things. Before that, there was Amanda. I know we weren’t together then, but really, my best friend? Even after she tried to tell you she wasn’t interested?”

  Something angry flickers across his face, and then . . . I get it. I almost stumble backward when I figure it out. “It’s because she rejected you and you couldn’t deal with it.”

  He snorts. “You’re making things up.”

  I close the gap between us and look right up into his eyes. “I am not. I know exactly what you’ve been doing to her. And now I know why. You couldn’t handle her turning you down.” I know I’m right. Amanda changed right after the movie and ice cream night when she told him to back off. “Let me be clear—it will stop. I know. Harrison knows. And I swear to God that if you do anything like that again, everyone in this town will know what a snake you are.”

  I back up, waiting for him to deny it. But he doesn’t. Instead, he crosses his arms and glares at me. “Are you done?”

  “Almost. You’re selfish. You’re full of yourself. You never even asked why I wanted to join your so-called band so badly. You’ve treated me like crap for years. And now you’ve turned on my best friend. So here’s where this is going: I don’t really like you as a person. Not anymore. We. Are. Done. Forever.”

  I start to stomp off when he calls from behind me, “You knew what we were the whole time. We’ve never been exclusive. You know that better than anyone, or are you forgetting Oliver?”

  I whirl around. How in the hell does he even know about that? “That was one time. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done to me over the years. And I felt so bad about it that I pushed him away so I could be with you. I’m regretting that now, thank you very much. Have a good life.” Which is exponentially nicer than what I really wanted to say.

  Then I get on with my stomping, brushing past Oliver, who still hasn’t made it to the door and probably just overheard everything I said. I imagine Trevor with a blank look on his face because I like the way it makes me feel. I move past the Grimaldis, who are camped out in the lobby, right next to the open theater door.

  Johnny has that sad, hopeful look on his face, while Steve-o’s slapping an unopened pack of Marlboro Reds against the palm of his hand. He gives me an appreciative smile. “Damn, Fitzgerald. Didn’t think you had that in you.”

  I’m on such a roll that I stop for a second and turn back to them. “Why are you here? Like, in this school. Why?”

  Steve-o blinks at me. And Johnny smiles, just a little. It’s nice, actually, his smile.

  I stride up to them and wait with my hands on my hips. “What do you do exactly, besides hate me and play video games and smoke and get half the population of this school high on a regular basis? Really, I want to know. I’m in the market for a new talent for myself.”

  Johnny’s smile widens. “Opera,” he says. “I’m going to Juilliard next year.”

  I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging wide open. It’s not like I’ve taken any time away from theater to bother going to one of Holland’s operas. Come to think of it, I’ve never even seen Johnny with a cigarette, though his twin seems to live with one in his mouth. And that makes sense now. Sort of. And Choral Ensemble—he’s been a fixture in the tenor section for as long as I’ve been at Holland. I’m still processing the whole Johnny-Grimaldi-as-an-opera-star thing in my head, when I notice Steve-o glaring at me.

  “Judgey little thing, aren’t you?” he says.

  “Maybe I am. It’s not like you aren’t the same way. And you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

  His face actually shades a little red. He doesn’t say anything.

  “My brother’s a painting prodigy. He had his first gallery showing in New York when he was eight,” Johnny says. He looks . . . proud.

  The blue I saw under Steve-o’s fingernails that one time. It was paint. I glance at his hands. They’re clean today, but a couple of speckles of orange decorate his otherwise black shirt.

  “Shut up,” Steve-o says to his brother. He’s back to glaring at me. “It’s none of her business.”

  “All right, then,” I say. “Hey, Johnny, congratulations by the way. Juilliard’s pretty amazing.”

  Johnny smiles, and with that, I head for the door.

  I shove it open and breathe in the chilly November air. The Grimaldis actually have artistic talent and I dumped Trevor. What a day.

  I feel a little light-headed. It’s weird to be with someone for so long, only to figure out he was never who I really thought he was. I slide down the wall and sit on the pavement. The fall air seeps through my sweater. My coat is still backstage, but no way am I going back inside for it now. I close my eyes and turn my face up to the weak sun for warmth.

  I hear footsteps next to me. I’m afraid to open my eyes and see Trevor or the Grimaldis there. I don’t think I can do either of those scenes again.

  “Casey?” a voice says.

  I open one eye to see Oliver standing over me. He sits and hugs his knees to his chest. There’s a hole beginning in the fabric over his left knee, and he immediately starts pulling one of the threads.

  “Did you know Johnny Grimaldi is an aspiring opera singer?” I ask him.

  “What? No. I didn’t think he did anything except lurk in the hallways with his brother.”

  “Who is a world-class painter, apparently,” I say. “My world is turned upside down.”

  We’re silent for a moment. I push some fallen leaves out from underneath me.

  “You did the right thing,” he finally says.

  “I didn’t need an audience.”

  He squirms a little. “No, you didn’t. If I’d known what you were going to do, I would’ve made myself scarce.”

  “I’ve never done that before,” I say.

  “I thought you did. Four times, in fact,” he says with a slight smile.

  I shake my head. “This was different. This was real. Those other times . . . it was like I put him on hiatus to let him know I was sick of what he was doing. And he’d date around, and then I’d get tired of that, and we’d just pick up right where we’d left off.”

  “So you meant it this time,” Oliver says quietly.

  “Yeah. I guess you can say I finally found my self-respect. And now he and Danielle can be together or whatever. Although it’s not like he’ll stop flirting with every other girl in school. I kind of feel bad for Danielle. Now that’s really screwed up.” I put my hands flat on the ground against the rough, cold concrete.

  “No, it isn’t. It means you have a heart,” Oliver says.

  “At least he can’t get at Amanda anymore.”

  “I had no idea, Casey. If I did, I would’ve said something.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t think anyone did. Amanda was hiding it pretty well.”

  He pauses. “Trevor doesn’t know what he could’ve had with you.”

  I turn to look at him. The almost-hole at his knee is now a real hole.

  “Um, thanks.” I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to say to that. I study his face for a moment. I wonder what he�
��d do if I kissed him right now. But I can’t. And I won’t. It’s not right after what I’ve done. Which I need to own up to.

  “Well, I’m sorry you had to see that. And I’m really sorry that I led you on. That wasn’t right.”

  He stops pulling one of the loose strings at his knee. “You didn’t lead me on. I thought you knew that.”

  “I did, though.”

  He rubs a hand through his flattened hair, making it stick up every which way. “You told me all about you and Trevor, remember? It wasn’t hard to figure out that you still had feelings for him. And yeah, I could’ve done without a few of those . . . moments . . . between you and him.”

  I can’t even look at him as I think of how he found us in Trevor’s car.

  “But Casey? I knew exactly what I was getting into. If I got hurt, it was my own fault.”

  I shake my head. “That doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong. I was being selfish. I’m a little more like Trevor in that way than I’d like to admit. But I’m going to change. Starting now.” The very definition of selfish is grabbing Oliver now, right after I’ve ended things with Trevor.

  Oliver sighs. “You need a ride home?”

  It’s not exactly what I was hoping for, but it’s something. “Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  He holds out a hand to help me up. I take it. His hand is warm and I don’t want to let go. But he does, and it’s okay. I need to go home and sort out my feelings. And he needs time to figure out if he still wants me after all this. He’s quiet on the way home, but it’s not awkward. It’s exactly what I need.

  And somehow, he seems to know that.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I sit in the empty desk in front of Amanda and wait for her to look up.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  It’s weird hearing her ask me that, since that’s pretty much all I’ve been asking her for the last few weeks.

  I pull at a pill in my sweater. “I’m fine. Weird, but good, if that makes any sense. Kind of like I’m free but I don’t know what to do with myself.”