“Thanks for giving me something else to freak out about. It’s not like I’m not already panicking about losing, you know.”
“You already won state. You’ll be fine,” Alec said. “And if you don’t, you’ll still be fine. We don’t give a crap if you come in last.”
“Not helping,” Leia pointed out.
Alec threw her a stinkeye and mumbled something about girls and drama.
“Em, you totally own the stage. Even for band. I don’t know why you’re freaking out.” Phoebe closed her book and looked me directly in the eye. “You’re the most confident person I know. Don’t let me down.”
I shook my head, cold fear starting to make its way through my veins again. All of them had no idea how much of my confidence could be an act, sometimes. “This is different. If I screw up on stage, I can improv to the next line, or pretend I’m playing the right notes. If I screw up during the speech—”
“Keep going and don’t let it phase you. You’re an actress. Become one of the great speechmakers. Like…” Leia waved her hands in the air while thinking, “Lincoln. Be Lincoln.”
“Four score and seven years ago,” I intoned in a deep voice and pretended to adjust an imaginary top hat. “Kris probably doesn’t have to pretend to be Lincoln, though I bet he wants to be him.”
Grace cracked a smile. “The only thing Kris does is project confidence. I bet, deep down in his shriveled little politician heart, he’s just as terrified as you are. He just doesn’t show it,” she said. “It’s like cheering. When Millbrook is crushing our team, I still need to sound like I think we have a chance, even though there’s more possibility of me falling for the quarterback and having babies with him than our guys ever scoring a touchdown on their defense.”
“That was a visual I didn’t need,” Leia said with a mock cringe.
“Don’t worry. I only go for cute brown-eyed girls. And Millbrook’s quarterback is an idiot, anyway.” She paused in her packing to reach over and squeeze her girlfriend’s hand.
Leia’s laugh filled the room and she turned to me. “Hands off, she’s all mine.” Right. I was the only other girl in the room with brown eyes. Those two had been together for so long, they had such an easy way with each other, like being together was as simple as breathing. I felt a twinge of jealousy followed by the awful realization that Wil and I hadn’t had the chance to get to that.
“Don’t worry. She’s too high-maintenance for me,” I said in the lightest voice I could manage.
“Hey!” Grace tapped me on the head with a rolled up t-shirt. “Don’t bite the hand that will make you look amazing.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I said, reaching for my rolled-up yoga pants and pointing them at her like a fencer. Worry about Kris and the competition slipped to the back of my mind as I lunged forward, aiming for her head in a move I learned from the theatre-club weapons choreographers.
Grace ducked as the yoga pants nearly messed up her perfect cheerleader high ponytail. “You’re representing our state. We get enough bad press as it is from media idiots who think we’re just bad accents and big hair. I can’t risk you having another flapper fiasco. It’s just a public service.”
“‘Flapper fiasco?’ You realize that was only once, and only because my regular clothes were soaked. And I totally made that dress work.” Grace was never going to let me live down having to wear one of my fall play costumes at school freshman year because one of the bus drivers hit a huge puddle in the school lot, tsunami-ing dirty water all over me and gym bag. “It’s not like I’m Phoebe, with her book costumes.”
“Em!” That made Phoebe jump up and grab her own weapon. She pelted me with a few pairs of balled socks before picking up my jeans. The three of us circled each other with rolled-up clothes, our “swords” landing with deadly accuracy until we dissolved in a pile of giggles.
I reached over to tug on Alec’s foot until he joined us on my grey carpet, pulling Leia with him. “I love you guys.” Half of my suitcase was now scattered all around us and Phoebe still shook so hard with pent-up laughter that she was clutching her side.
Chloe popped her head in my doorway and made a face. “You are all so weird.”
My little sister was clutching my hand so hard, my fingers had gone numb. Mom scanned the list in her hand, her ancient history professor horn-rimmed reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “You have the list I made of everyone’s phone numbers, right? In case you lose your phone?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. Standing in the middle of an airport was not the place to get a lecture from Mom about respect. “I’m pretty sure I have our home phone number memorized.” Since first grade, I added mentally. But at Mom’s laser-stare, I cowed and said, “Yes, ma’am.” I pulled the little notepad she filled for me out of the front pocket of my carry-on and waved it.
“Good. You can’t rely on technology all the time.” Mom slipped her list into her purse and reached out to hug me. “Call every night and don’t get into trouble.” Her own curls, tighter and darker than mine, brushed against my cheek and I breathed in her uniquely Mom-smell of rose perfume and the coconut oil she used in her hair.
Dad eventually extracted me from Mom’s arms and gave me a quick hug of his own, his Dad-smell of eucalyptus soap and coffee engulfing me. “I am so proud of you. Kick some butt, manari mou.” I didn’t even cringe at “my little lamb,” Dad’s old nickname for me. His short beard scratched my cheek and I had to blink to keep from tearing up.
Chloe wrapped her little arms around my waist as far as they could go and sniffled into my shirt. I squeezed her tight, then untangled myself from her before she could burrow deeper into the hug—I didn’t need to show up in Boston with a six year old’s snot and tears on me. “It’s only a week, you know.” Chloe looked up at me, eyes big and cheeks wet, and my heart melted a little bit more. It would be her first time away from me since my sixth grade camping trip, and she was only a baby back then. “I promise I’ll call a few times just for you, okay? I can’t wait to tell you all about Boston,” I whispered to her, and Chloe nodded, pressing her lips tight together like she was trying her hardest to look brave.
I had pictured looking a lot cooler for my first solo plane ride, sweeping into the security line dramatically with my roller bag behind me, like on TV or like the twenty-something girl a few people ahead of me in line. She looked so bored and composed, like she travelled all the time. Instead, Chloe expected me to wave every time I inched closer to the ticket inspection person, and Mom called out reminders every few minutes. I made it through security and turned to give them one last wave before entering the terminal. They were all craning their necks around the crowds to see me. They were a spectrum, running from Mom’s dark-brown skin to Dad’s pale olive complexion, with Chloe the in-between transition. A little lump lodged itself in my throat and I swallowed it back, giving a little wave before turning in the direction of my gate.
At Philadelphia International, little planes apparently took off from gates as far as possible from security. I rushed through the airport, triple-checking my gate and the time on every monitor I passed. Out of breath, I dropped onto a seat at my gate and looked around. I had spent so much time before security hugging and stuff that people were already getting ready to start boarding. I stared at my ticket, trying to figure out my group number. They might have already called the number and I didn’t know.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder as I rotated the ticket, trying to decipher the printing. “Looks like someone was running late,” a familiar voice said and I looked up to see Kris breezing past me and handing his phone to the gate attendant at the door to be scanned. “Have a good flight, Ephemie.”
My mood plummeted.
Some people have all the luck on airplanes. Girls from school would tell stories of the hotties they’d sat next to during flights. Grace had even sat a row down from a movie star the last time she and her parents went on vacation. My parents met on a flight back from Greece, when Mom
was finishing up her doctoral studies and Dad had been visiting family. Mom said Dad had even offered to switch seats so she could sit by the window.
On this flight, I got to be across the aisle from Kris.
At least it was one of those planes that had rows with one seat on one side and two on the other, and Dad had reserved me the single seat. I didn’t have to squish next to a businessman shoving his elbows over the armrest or listen to a talky seatmate. But, damn, the aisle was too narrow to be a decent barrier to Kris’ ginormous ego.
I flipped though the safety card and airplane magazine and tried to ignore him. Phoebe had lent me one of her books, but I really wasn’t in the mood to read, especially not some weird story about ghosts trapped in mirrors. I made it until we reached cruising altitude, then pulled out the movie version of Golden on my tablet to keep me company. Which Kris, of course, had to comment on as soon as he caught a glimpse of Liam’s chiseled body in full Leprechaun battle armor.
Kris leaned over the aisle, poking at my screen. “Wait a minute, you’re watching that?”
I hit pause and graced him with a side “why are you bothering me?” look, perfected from years of being a big sister. “What would you prefer? A recap of the latest congressional debate?”
He actually looked up at the ceiling and shook his head, pressing his lips together like he was trying to keep from laughing before looking back at me. “I didn’t peg you as a fan of the most ridiculous movie ever.”
“You know, it’s really sad how genre films, especially those geared towards a young female viewership, get panned, even if the cinematography and acting are groundbreaking,” I said in my most superior tone, nose high in the air, then added, “Like this movie.”
“Groundbreaking, really?” His finger pointed in Liam’s general direction and met my eyes with his own amused ones. “Aren’t leprechauns supposed to be, you know, little?”
“Like you’re an expert on Irish myths.”
This time, Kris snorted. “Better than whoever wrote it. Plus, what about what he’s wearing? There’s no way anyone can fight in something like that. And why are you girls so in love with that guy? He doesn’t look like anything special.”
My death glare silenced him and I turned up the volume to my headphones to drown out any more of his comments. I spent the rest of the flight trying to pretend he wasn’t there.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” As the voice came over the PA system, I tugged my headphones out of my ears and looked up. “We’ve run into a little rush hour traffic jam at Logan airport, so we’re going to be circling for a bit until a runway frees up for us. Right now, we’re still looking at an on time arrival, but I’ll update you if anything changes.” A groan came up from most of the other people in the cabin, but I just popped my headphones back in. I could totally handle a few more minutes of Liam’s abs.
By the third circle, though, my stomach didn’t let me focus on anything but staring straight ahead and keeping the complimentary pretzels from coming back up again. I leaned my head back against the headrest and tried taking in calm, nausea-clearing breaths.
“You don’t look too good,” Kris said over the aisle. “Can I help? Like maybe switch seats or get you water or something?” I turned just enough to narrow my eyes at him and survival instinct must have kicked in because he quickly buried his head in his magazine.
By the fourth circle, I started losing circulation in my hand from trying to push on the pressure points in my wrist. I’d already finished two ginger lozenges from the old lady in front of me. When it didn’t look like that was helping, I unbuckled my seatbelt and swung my legs into the aisle. Maybe I could make it to the bathroom before losing my lunch and pride in front of everyone.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but you need to stay in your seat.” The flight attendant said as he blocked the aisle.
I took in his practiced smile and countered with a tight-lipped frown that was more about keeping everything down than being polite. “I need to go to the bathroom.” A part of me hoped I sounded smooth, like I travelled all the time, and not like I was desperate.
“And I need you in your seat. No exceptions.”
“I’m not responsible for what happens, then.” Giving him the staredown didn’t work and I sat back down, reaching for the airsickness bag as a bubble of air pushed up from my stomach. “Oh, crap.”
The next few minutes were a blur of sick, getting pity stares and “poor thing”s from the little old lady in 4A, and trying not to look in Kris’ direction. Even after nothing else could come up, I clutched at the bag like a lifeline until the flight attendant pried it away from me in his last pass through the cabin. “I warned you,” I hissed at him when he took the bag with only two gloved fingers.
The plane taxied to a landing and I kept my forehead pressed against the window, waiting for the plane to stop moving and praying for a close gate. I just needed to get onto solid ground to tame my protesting stomach. The seatbelt sound dinged and I heard the clack of every single person on our flight unbuckling their belts at the same time, followed by the shuffle of people standing and opening overhead bins.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder and I peeled myself from the bulkhead, a wave of shock followed by suspicion rolling over me when I saw Kris’ concerned face looking down at me. “You okay?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose for a second to ward off the headache that threatened to join the leftover waves of nausea and nodded. “I’m fine.” Sweat had coated the back of my neck during landing and now I was freezing on top of feeling like crap.
“Right.” Kris grabbed my bag from the overhead bin and carefully tugged on my arm to pull me to standing.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
“And I’m carrying it. Or do you want to stay on here until they fly back to Philly?” I made a face at him, but let him propel me forward with his arm around my waist and hand on my elbow, barely touching but close enough to keep me upright and moving. I could feel the heat coming off his body and resisted the impulse to sway towards him.
“How adorable are they?” Some woman a few rows back said loud enough for me to hear and I turned to give her a dirty look.
Instead, I came eye-to-eye with Kris, amusement written all over his face. “What? You don’t think you’re adorable? Because I know I am.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He twisted his nose and let go of my arm for a second to fan the air between us. “We need to get you mints or gum or something.”
I clamped my mouth shut in horror and faced forward again. “Thanks. Make fun of the sick girl.”
We made it out into the terminal and Kris nudged me in direction of baggage claim. Even with his annoying commentary, he still supported me so carefully that I didn’t pull away. He probably had years of practice helping little old ladies cross the street in exchange for votes or something. “I’m trying to help you here. If you didn’t have me, you’d be all alone and sick in a strange airport.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m your class president and a Scout. Consider it a moral imperative for me to make sure you at least get to baggage claim without throwing up all over that outfit I’m positive you wore to impress our competitors. Let me guess, you’re imitating that one actress from the fifties? Audrey something?” Those last sentences carried a bit of his usual arch superiority.
Everything he said was true. I’d worn my striped top, jeans, and ballet flats in an attempt to echo Audrey Hepburn’s classic style, but he didn’t need to know he was right. “Whatever,” I repeated. I stepped onto the escalator, clutching the handhold as my breakfast threatened to join my lunch. Apparently, I wasn’t ready for motion yet. I stumbled off the escalator and Kris’ hand was right back on my arm, steadying me. “Thanks,” I said grudgingly.
A perky redheaded guy holding up a Youth Change Council sign came up to us. “You two must be New Jersey.” At my blank look, he pointed at Kris and our two bright blue Change Council carry-on
s. “We have your pictures, and those bags are impossible to miss. Besides, you and Vermont were the only ones supposed to arrive in this terminal.”
I bit back the urge to ask redhead if we were going to spend the week being referred to by our states and instead dropped onto one of the non-moving baggage carousels. Kris, in typical Kris fashion, smoothly shook Red’s hand. “You guessed right. Kris Lambert,” he then tilted his chin in my direction, “And that’s Em Katsaros.”
Miracle of miracles—he used my nickname. I gave Red a weak wave. “Hi.”
Red checked something on his clipboard “I’m Daniel Walsh, but you can call me Dan. I’ll be one of your coordinators this week. Think of me like a guidance counselor and tour guide rolled into one.” He pointed his clipboard at one of the other carousels. “Your bags should be coming in on that one.”
I started to stand, but Kris put a staying hand on my shoulder. “I’ll pick up your bag for you. Just sit there until you feel better.” To Dan, he added, “We circled the airport for a while before landing. Em’s still feeling sick.” He dropped both our carry-ons onto the floor by my feet.
He was already working on being a kiss-up, but not moving for a little while sounded like a good idea. The thought of walking still made me a little woozy. “It’s the yellow bag with green dots.”
“That’s a huge surprise,” Kris said, flashing me a wide grin. Phoebe was right—he did have a nice smile, even when he was being a jerk. “Now, if you said pink, I’d be shocked.”
Damn, he was too perceptive sometimes. Or was my love of yellow that obvious? “Go fetch my bags, lackey,” I said with a dismissive wave.
As they walked to the carousel, I could hear Dan say, “It’s great to see two people from the same school. That almost never happens in this competition. It’s also nice to see that the two of you are friends.”
Dramatically Ever After Page 6
