Dramatically Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  “Wow. Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

  “I expect you to. I hope you and Kristopher know there is an entire team of judges cheering you on back home. I’ll be watching the awards ceremony and I think you’ll both do New Jersey proud.”

  “Thank you.” I stared at the phone for at least a full minute after she hung up, completely unsure of what had just happened. When it actually hit me, a thrill ran through my entire body, followed by a cold splash of dread. Now I definitely couldn’t lose.

  MacKenzie pulled the phone back towards himself. “That was a nice surprise, wasn’t it? Usually judges don’t bother to reach out like that. Sounds like you made a good impression.”

  “Did she talk to Kris, too?” I asked, and my voice sounded distant, like I was detached from my body.

  “No, she just asked for you.”

  “Okay,” I whispered to myself, then stood and picked up my backpack, still feeling like I was in the middle of an out-of-body experience. “Okay.” I started towards the door before realizing the Vice Principal was still sitting there. I stopped at the threshold and turned around to say, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Stop at the desk on your way out and they’ll give you a pass.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey.” Alec poked his head into my bedroom. “Do you want some company?”

  It was around four, which meant he probably just got out of Science Club. “Done taking science tests?” How he could take physics and chemistry tests for fun was beyond me. I waved him into my room and grimaced as he dropped so hard onto my beanbag chair the seams squeaked in protest. I rolled onto my stomach and inched to the side of my bed so he could see my face. “Dad let you in, didn’t he?”

  Alec wiggled deeper into the chair, trying to get comfortable. “Your dad loves me. And I bribed him with Mom’s mac and cheese.”

  “Huh?”

  “I told her about his cooking experiments and she thought she’d save you guys from starving to death.”

  Thank the mac and cheese gods. Mom wasn’t the biggest fan of traditional gender roles, but had learned early on in their marriage that cooking was one chore she and Dad could never share. Dad’s “I’m bored, so I’ll help make dinner” moods he’d gotten into the past few weeks had confirmed that with each ever increasingly disastrous dinner. And Alec’s mom’s cooking was the best in Lambertfield, if not all of New Jersey. “Your mom’s the best.”

  “She’s pretty awesome. So.” He picked up one of the books Phoebe had lent me and started flipping through the pages like it was a flipbook, filling my room with a whirring sound. “Your dad seems upbeat.”

  “He’s always upbeat unless his soccer team loses or he’s telling me how I’m going to end up penniless in some New York City crack den apartment if I decide to just pursue acting. Which, by the way, was his mood last night.”

  “That’s really specific.”

  I put on my best Dad expression and shifted into Dad’s heavy accent. “Ephemie, the arts are important, but you need something to pay the bills. Look at your cousin Vasilis. He’s trying to be an actor, too, and he can’t afford dinner most of the time.”

  “I can’t understand Greek, but I’ve seen your cousin’s videos online. He kind of sucks.”

  I waved my hand in a “that’s beside the point” motion. “You know Mom and Dad. It’s all about doing what’s safe and practical.”

  “That’s not always a bad thing, you know.”

  “Well, look at where safe and practical got Dad. The people who sat around in the office doing nothing only to leave exactly at five on the dot got to stay but people like him who busted their asses every day for, like, ten or twelve hours got laid off.” I could hear the bitterness creeping into my voice and took a deep breath before saying, “Sorry, I’m just—”

  Alec’s lips set in a straight line and he tilted his head in exasperation at me. “C’mon Em, you don’t have to pretend everything’s okay with me, you know. It’s already stupid how you do that with Grace and Feebs. Besides, your parents tell my mom everything, anyway.” He pulled his sketchbook out of his backpack and handed it to me. “Here, weigh in on my character designs while you freak out.”

  I faked a long-suffering sigh and took the book from him before saying, “Whining isn’t going to suddenly make my parents the ‘follow your dreams, we totally support you’ types. And whining isn’t going to bring Wil back from Germany. Besides, you know Grace would just try to give me advice to fix things and Phoebe would hover and worry.” I quirked up one corner of my lips and pretend-fluffed my hair. “I need to project an aura of pure and utter confidence to the world.”

  “I can see through that aura-thing.”

  “That’s because you’re practically a Katsaros. We’ve got good BS-meters.”

  He put down the book, and crossed his arms. “Since I have this awesome BS-meter, I can tell something’s up. What happened in the meeting with MacKenzie?”

  “Ugh.” I flipped onto my back and spoke to the ceiling. “It’s just…Kris.”

  “Why are you letting that bother you so much? You’re going to be going up against a hundred other kids, so who gives a crap about one guy from our school?”

  I heaved a giant sigh. “Because that one guy does everything possible to not just win but destroy his opponents. He said as much to me today. I’m positive I’m going to be his special target during this competition.”

  “Okay, Kris can be a jerk, but you’re exaggerating.”

  “Lani was in tears halfway through the student council president debate,” I said, though I shouldn’t have had to remind him.

  “Lani was also in tears when they ran out of burrito bowls last Friday.”

  It took everything in me not to face-palm. “You know; you really lack an emotional sensitivity gene. If you saw her crying, you should have swept in like a knight in shining armor and given her your burrito bowl. That’s how you get dates.” It was nice to focus on something that wasn’t about Kris for a few seconds.

  “Em.” Alec did not sound amused.

  A plan formed in my head. I could invite Lani to sit at our lunch table next week… “She’s actually really pretty and freakishly smart, except for the political thing. You two would be really cute together.”

  “Em…” He said in a warning tone. “No.”

  “Sorry. But you have to admit I do my best match-making when I’m stressed about stuff.” I paused, and then everything I’d been holding back all came out in one long stream of worry. “Fine. About Kris destroying people. You realize he doesn’t even need a freaking scholarship, so I don’t know why the hell he even bothered to do this competition except to screw everyone else over. And he’s going to waltz into Boston and mess with my head for an entire week to make me lose just for laughs. And because Mom and Dad are all about college because ‘college,’ without scholarships, I’ll have one less argument I can give them and then I’m going to have to go to Mom’s university because it’ll be free and practical and because they don’t have a decent theatre program, become an accountant or something…”

  “Hey, my mom’s an accountant.” Alec swiped at me with the book, but missed.

  “Yeah, but she wants to be and I don’t. Your mom’s a perfect example of what happens when artists don’t put all their focus on their art. She wanted to be a ballet dancer, but was trying to be practical and study stuff, and boom, no ballet career.”

  “Yeah, but she always says she was happy with that decision. She didn’t love ballet enough to try to scrape by when she didn’t get into any of the big companies. You’re different. You’ll do anything to be on stage, even if it means living in a crack den in New York.”

  I tilted my head back over the edge of the bed so I was looking at him upside down and the faux-serious expression on his face made me crack up. “True.” I waited until the stitch in my side stopped hurting from laughing and said, in a much softer tone of voice, “Half of this started because of what happened
with Dad’s job. God, imagine if I could get that first-place scholarship? It would pay for at least an entire year. Mom and Dad at least can’t say anything freshman year if I’m going for free.”

  “That’s a really big thing to pin your hopes on, you know. You’d have to beat the best speeches in the entire country. And military base regions. And US territories.”

  “You don’t think I can do it?”

  “I’ll let Grace calculate the odds against you. And, honestly?” I froze and waited for his next words. Nothing good ever followed the words “and honestly.” “Your speech is really good and your voice gives me chills when you read it, but you’re not into speechwriting. You’re a performer, not really a writer. There are probably people at nationals who live and breathe this stuff and have speeches a million times better than yours.”

  “Et tu, Alec?” Behind the mock hurt in my words was the bitter taste of bile. Grace was usually the one who carried the sledgehammer of painful truths.

  He powered on. “If you win and get the scholarship, that’s awesome, but you might not. And that’s okay, just go on student loans. Your parents will get over it.”

  “You don’t know my parents.”

  “Actually, I do. Remember, practically a Katsaros?”

  “You don’t get it. Your mom is all about letting you follow your dreams.”

  “To be fair, she’s also really happy I want to double major in computer science and graphic art. Actually, she’s really happy that I didn’t just decide that I don’t need to go to college and move to, like, Japan or Korea to try to work in gaming or animation or something.”

  “Well, my Mom and Dad don’t believe in putting yourself in debt. I’ll probably be ninety and they’ll be haunting me from beyond the grave with ‘See? You shouldn’t have put yourself in debt for a dream.’ Even if I end up doing great.” I raked my hands through my hair in frustration and muttered a curse at the massive frizz I probably just caused. “Winning this would be awesome. It would be like wasting free money if I don’t use the scholarship.” I absently flipped to the next page in his sketchbook and held it up to him, pointing at my favorite character sketch on the page. “I get it, I really do. I don’t want to be stuck with crappy loans, either, but I also don’t want to go to Schuylkill University only because it’s free.”

  “I just don’t want you to go into this expecting to get first, or even place in the top ten.”

  “I’ll keep looking for more scholarships. And Rutgers is a state school, so that should help if I get in. And it’s not too far to commute, so that will save money.” I shrugged and added, “I have to do really good in the competition, anyway. That professor said she’ll be watching out for me. If I win, I’ll impress her, get an extra leg up on the gajillion other people applying for a spot there, get the scholarship so I can take away mom’s and dad’s argument as to why I should go to SU, and everything will be perfect.” I flipped to another page in his sketchpad and stopped at a drawing of a super-creepy little girl that looked like an evil Victorian doll. “This one for level two. It would scare the hell out of anyone.”

  “I was thinking of making that one’s attack be spiders swarming all over the player.”

  “You’re going to give small children nightmares. I love it.”

  “You know, if I pull off this game, I just might decide to drop out, start up a game company, and then mom and your parents can talk about me being the creative disappointment of the ‘family,’ instead.” He grinned, taking back his sketchbook and dropping it on the floor.

  “You’re a sciencelete, which makes you perfect in their eyes. You’d have to do something like decide you’re going to become a hermit and live off nature deep in the woods before you ever reach my level.”

  A laugh boomed out of him. “Speaking of, you might want to start your homework. You’re the one who’s going to be missing physics for a week and I’m not helping you remotely while you’re in Boston.”

  “Hmph.” I side-eyed him as I pulled out my tablet and physics notes. “Killjoy.”

  “Plus, you need to stop blowing things out of proportion with Kris.” Alec used the book he’d been flipping through to poke me in the shoulder. “Just ignore him. Meanwhile, I’ll keep an eye out for more scholarships. You’ll be okay no matter what happens in Boston.”

  I wanted to hug him.

  I sent about the tenth text to Wil and waited. His fastchat status was green, so I knew he was online. “C’mon, Wil,” I muttered, then sent another chat request.

  His face finally popped up on the screen, his brow furrowed and lips set in a straight line. “I cannot talk right now.”

  “But we were scheduled to talk fifteen minutes ago and you’ve missed our last two chats. I miss you.”

  His expression didn’t soften like it usually did when I said I missed him. “I have no time. I have school and other important things I must do.”

  “I should be the only important thing in your life,” I said with a grin. At his pained look, I added, “I’m joking, you know.”

  “I just came home from a nighttime tour and have not had dinner. I need to finish this paper so I can eat.”

  “But I’ve been sitting here trying to get you for the past fifteen minutes. I deserve some of your time, too. We have a schedule and you keep breaking it without even bothering to text me about rescheduling.”

  “The schedule is not working. I do not like feeling like I’m tied to the phone because of you. I feel like I cannot have a normal life because you always demand my attention.”

  My smile faded away and lead started filling my lungs. “That’s not fair,” I said, softly.

  “What is not fair is feeling like I have two mothers. We need to stop—” He said something in German but didn’t bother to translate.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing I had a voice translation app on my tablet. “Stop what?”

  “Stop talking. I do not want every minute of my life scheduled by a girl on the other side of the world.”

  The lead grew until it filled my stomach and my limbs. “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “Maybe that is a good idea.”

  I cringed as he said it, then forced myself not to show how much his comment bothered me. “Maybe you’re an asshole.” His expression didn’t shift and I decided to elaborate in slow, perfectly enunciated words so he couldn’t misunderstand. “If you do this now, we’re over for good, do you understand? This isn’t going to be like our other fights, where I forgive and forget and we get back together.”

  His only answer was to disconnect the chat.

  Phoebe carefully led me to the currently deserted “sit and knit” corner of the yarn shop and pointed me at the worn, over-stuffed couch covered in fuzzy afghans. “Sit, I’ll be right back.”

  I dropped onto the couch and was automatically swallowed by it, like I’d fallen into a cocoon made of wool and eighties paisley. Phoebe hurried back in from the back room, carrying a package and two mugs. She dropped the package onto the yarn-covered coffee table, but handed me the mug and then snuggled next to me, tucking one of the afghans around both of us. “Drink.”

  She was just adorable. I looked over at her in amusement and sniffed at the mug. “This tea smells like a peanut butter cup.”

  “Mmmhmm. Cassandra gets it shipped from that Canadian tea store she loves.” I took a sip, and while I was still trying to process the weirdness of tea tasting like chocolate-covered peanut butter, she said, “Okay, start.”

  My amusement at Phoebe in caregiver mode faded away to nausea. “Wil broke up with me this time.”

  “Ouch. I’m so sorry, Em.”

  “Does he think he’s the only one stressed with this long-distance relationship crap? I had to set up all of our chats and keep track of time zones and schedules, but God forbid he show up to anything in the last few weeks. He’s acting like I’m the one imposing on him.” My hands started shaking, so I put down the mug before I could spill its contents all over myse
lf.

  “That’s not fair to you.” Phoebe said, her tone soothing.

  I felt my lips slide into a straight line as I nodded. “I won’t let him off easy. When he comes back to his senses, it’ll take a few apologies before I let him get back together with me this time.”

  Phoebe’s fingers twisted in the holes of the afghan, like she was trying to avoid what she was about to say. “You know, every time you two broke up in the past, you were the one who did the breaking up. Are you sure it’s not different this time?”

  “I am.” I ignored the giant stone that had settled in my stomach, souring the tea in my mouth, and added, as convincingly as I could, “Wil and I are stronger than a little fight.”

  She twisted the edge of the afghan even more. “I don’t know, you two never really talked after your fights, you just made out and everything was okay. You can’t exactly do that when he’s on a completely different continent.”

  “Since when did you become a relationship expert?” Her words made the stone in my stomach multiply, but I pushed her with my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. The two of us have an epic romance, like Sleepless in Seattle, just with actually knowing each other first.” I pictured a romantic reunion at the top of the Empire State Building, where I’d be wearing the scarf he bought me last year and he’d be holding a giant bouquet of yellow roses, snow falling around us as we embraced with the New York city skyline shining around us.

  Phoebe raised an eyebrow at me, but instead leaned forward to grab the bundle from the table. She handed me the wrapped package. “Here, I made this for you for Boston.” As I pulled the off-white sweater out of the tissue paper, she added, “October can get cold up there.”