Shara understood. She tucked her arm through David’s and said, “Oh no you don’t, wise guy. You’re not going to stand here flirting with Erin while the rest of us clean up this mess. Come on.”
Erin quickly gathered her things and left. Somehow she made it home, where she took her headache medication and crawled into bed. Nausea made her gag, and she writhed on the cool sheets praying for the pain to go away. But every time she closed her eyes, the image of David’s pratfall replayed in her mind.
She didn’t know why. She couldn’t explain it. Yet she was completely and absolutely convinced that somehow David Devlin was mixed up in the headache’s arrival.
Chapter Five
“You want me to pull David from the cast, and you won’t even tell me why? Erin, that makes no sense.”
Erin tugged at the leg of her leotard and avoided eye contact with Ms. Thornton. “I don’t mean to cause problems. It’s just that I—uh—I don’t get along with him too well.”
“Artistic differences? Come on now—he’s an excellent actor, and you’re much too professional to be pitching a temper tantrum.”
Erin couldn’t stand for Ms. Thornton to think badly of her. In spite of her being a teacher, their relationship was more like a friendship; yet she couldn’t run the risk of being around David and having another headache either. What if one came on during the actual performance?
Ms. Thornton’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t try something with you, did he? I mean, it’s obvious he’s smitten, but is he harassing you?”
“Oh no. Please, that’s not it at all.”
Ms. Thornton reached out and took Erin’s arm. “What is it then? Tell me. I want to help.”
Erin caught the reflections of the dancers’ bodies dressed in contrasting leotards and tights in the wall of mirrors, and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her. How could she tell Ms. Thornton the truth? Maybe she’d decide to replace her instead of David. “It—it’s nothing. He sort of gets on my nerves, that’s all.”
“Hardly a reason to drop him from the play,” Ms. Thornton said. “You know, Erin, you’re the best student I’ve ever had, and you have a wonderful sense of professionalism. You have a future in this business, and you’ll often have to work with people you aren’t nuts about. You may as well learn how to do it now.”
Erin felt silly and foolish. “Forget I said anything.”
“Its forgotten,” Ms. Thornton said, smiling. “In fact, Mr. Ault is working with David privately to bone up his dance numbers. He has a decent voice, so we’ll let him record his song numbers on cassette for playback in the actual performances. In fact”— the teacher paused and measured Erin in the mirror—“I’ve been considering asking you to work extra with him too. In light of our discussion, will that be a problem?”
Erin’s heart sank. “Of course not. I’m a professional, remember?”
Ms. Thornton grew serious. “Look, honey, I know it’s been a tough year for you, but you seem to be doing well. Are you?”
“Urn—all right. Some days are better than others.” No use pretending to Ms. Thornton that her life was a bed of roses, but no sense in dumping the whole truth on her either.
“I want you to think again about taking that Wolftrap scholarship this summer. The offers still open.”
Erin was half-afraid it would be. She wanted it, but if the headaches didn’t go away, if Dr. Richardson couldn’t help her discover the cause … She faked a bright smile. “Lets see how I do with this play. I mean, if David and I don’t kill each other before it’s over.”
Ms. Thornton smiled. “You’ll figure out a way to get along with him. He is kind of cute,” she added. “And he’s certainly attracted to you.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “That’s the last thing I need.”
“Or the first,” Ms. Thornton said, then began doing leg lifts on the bar while Erin stared blankly in the mirror.
Erin found her mother in the garage sorting laundry. “Um—have you see any metal chain out here?” she asked.
“All I’m seeing is a week’s worth of dirty clothes,” her mother complained. “What do you need a chain for?”
“It’s for the rumble scene in the play—the big gang fight.”
“This place is such a mess, you’ll be lucky to find anything.”
Erin glanced around at the piles of junk, heavy with dust and grime. “Looks like we need another family workday. We haven’t had one of those in”— she wrinkled her brow—“way over a year.”
“No one has time anymore to do anything around here.”
“I could make the time,” Erin said quickly, seeing it as an opportunity for them to do something together as a family So what if it was grungy, dirty work? At least it would bring them together for a day.
“I’m swamped at the boutique, and I know your father won’t take his nose out of his books long enough to do anything as mundane as garage cleanup.”
Erin hadn’t counted on her mother’s animosity toward her father. She was suddenly sick and tired of all their hassling. “What’s the matter with you two? Do you always have to be at war with each other?”
Mrs. Bennett shoved a load of laundry into the machine. “You couldn’t possibly understand—”
“Is it me? Is it something I’ve done to make you both angry?”
“Oh, of course not, darling. You’re all we have.” The tears brimming in her mother’s eyes shocked Erin. She hadn’t meant to make her cry. “Why if it weren’t for you—” Her mother’s sentence trailed, and Erin felt panicked. If it weren’t for her what? Would her parents break up? Mrs. Bennett grabbed her, hugging her fiercely. “Don’t you see? You’re all that’s left. I—I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
“You won’t, Mom,” Erin mumbled, confused and a little scared by her mothers wide emotional swing from anger at her husband to clingy tearfulness over her daughter. And what did she mean about “losing” her? She was moving away to college next year. They’d discussed it many times. If only Amy were still with them, then perhaps it would be easier to leave. Amy was supposed to have been at home another year.
Awkwardly Erin broke free and skirted her father’s overloaded workbench. “I—uh—I have to find that chain.”
She searched hurriedly, eager to get away. Suddenly she saw it on a stack of boxes next to an old trunk against the cement block wall. The black lettering had faded, but each container was marked “Amy” in her father’s neat writing.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked from across the garage. “Did you find it?”
“Yes,” she said, unable to take her eyes off the boxes and trunk. She remembered the day her parents had cleaned out Amy’s room and packed away the total accumulation of her sixteen years on planet Earth.
“You should go through this stuff,” her mother had said through her tears. “There’ll be things you’ll want to keep.”
“Not now,” Erin had told her. “Maybe someday.”
Her father had taped each box shut, and her mother had wept, “My baby, my poor baby.”
“That won’t help, Marian,” her father had admonished. “We have to get on with life, and crying about Amy won’t bring her back.”
Erin blinked, and the vivid pictures from the past faded to the dingy darkness of the garage. She grabbed the chain, dragged it toward the washer and dryer, and stuffed it into a paper sack. “Ugh, it’s all rusty. You’d better wash up in the laundry sink,” her mother said.
Erin stared at the rust that had stained her hands brown. She quickly washed them, watching in macabre fascination as soap and water cleaned away the red brown stain that reminded her of dried blood.
David was late for their special rehearsal with Mr. Ault, and Erin grew angrier by the second. She adjusted her leg warmers and did several arabesques in the center of the stage before asking, “Where is he? We’ve been waiting twenty minutes, and I told my mom I’d work at her store this afternoon.”
Mr. Ault shrugged. “David�
�s never been punctual. I’ll have to remind him again that we must start on time.”
They heard the outside stage door bang, and seconds later David bounded across the stage and skidded to a halt, saying, “Sorry,” and flashing a boyish grin.
“Well, it’s about time,” Erin mumbled.
“It was my sister’s birthday, and I had to do my bit.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yeah. Jody. She turned eight today.”
“Lets get started,” Mr. Ault said, cuing up the cassette for the musical number during which Tony and Maria meet at the neighborhood dance amid the rivaling gangs. “This is slow. The rest of the cast is frozen in motion, the lights dim, the spot comes up and pulls Tony and Maria to the center of the stage. They look with wonder at each other and then …” He put Erin’s hand in David’s and made them face one another.
David’s fingers felt warm. Since he wasn’t tall, she only had to raise her chin slightly to look him in the eye. “I’ll try not to damage your feet,” he told her.
“I only dance on the bottoms,” she said, hoping a little humor would relax her.
David turned on his famous megawatt smile. She noticed a white substance smeared along his jawline and squinted at it. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“There’s some kind of white stuff on your neck.”
He dropped her hand and wiped his face. “Greasepaint. I thought I got it all off.”
She wondered why he’d been wearing white greasepaint but didn’t want to ask. No use getting too friendly, she thought. They danced for a few minutes to Mr. Ault’s instructions. David was amazingly light on his feet and a quick learner.
He pulled her closer, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder all the while keeping nace to the music. He was muscular and solid and smelled like sunshine.
“Thats good,” Mr. Ault said. “Remember, you two are beginning to fall in love here.… No, Erin, don’t stiffen. Relax. That’s better. Now, ‘Tony,’ spin her slowly, push her outward … pull her back … yes, very good. Now stop dancing and act like you’re about to kiss her.”
David’s face dipped lower. Erin’s heart began to hammer. When his mouth was inches from hers, Mr. Ault said, “Hold it. Perfect. Now, at this point Tony and Maria will freeze, the spotlight will widen, the lights will come up, and the others will dance around them.”
Erin scarcely heard him, because David’s mouth was coming closer. By reflex her eyes closed and her chin tilted, and David’s lips brushed over hers. The contact jolted Erin out of her trance. Her eyelids opened wide; she brought up her palms and shoved hard against David’s chest. “Don’t do that!” she cried.
“What’s the problem?” Mr. Ault groaned. “It was going so well.”
David staggered backwards, throwing up his hands in innocence. “My mouth slipped,” he explained.
“You’re not supposed to kiss her here, hot lips,” Mr. Ault said. “Not until act three.”
“He’s such a pain!”
“Come on, Erin,” the teacher admonished. “Let’s try to be professional. David, back off.”
Erin squeezed her eyes shut, afraid she was going to cry. Why was she overreacting? She felt a throbbing and a tightening in her temples. How was she ever going to make it till the play opened in six weeks? “This is just supposed to be for blocking out the dance moves,” she said. “He—he caught me off guard, that’s all.”
“Can we try it again?” Mr. Ault asked. “And this time, David, keep your lips from ‘slipping.’ ”
David saluted and took Erin in his arms again. “Loosen up,” he said. “It was just a kiss.”
Erin glared at him. They made it through the number several more times, and when Mr. Ault was finally pleased and had dismissed them, Erin hurried to get her things, because the pressure in her skull was building. At the stage door David stopped her before she could get outside. His expression was serious and contemplative. “Why don’t you like me?” he asked.
Erin tried to shrug him off. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
“I don’t think so. You haven’t liked me since day one.”
“I—it isn’t personal.”
“How else can it be? You don’t even know me. We’ve never even met before.”
Something about him nagged at the back of her mind. “I’m sorry. Really.” She seemed to be saying that phrase a lot lately.
David tipped his head to one side, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. “Would you like me more if I gave you a present?”
“I don’t want anything. I have to go.” She tried to step around him, but he dodged in front of her, pulled a balloon from his pocket, and proceeded to blow it up.
“I’m really a nice guy,” he said between puffs of air. “Kids and dogs are nuts about me. I’m gonna make you a dachshund out of this balloon to prove it.” He twisted the balloon into shape. “Don’t look so surprised. See, at heart, I’m really a clown.”
In that instant Erin knew exactly where she’d seen David Devlin before.
Chapter Six
“You didn’t recognize him until he said the word ‘clown’?” Dr. Richardson asked, tapping her pencil on the side of her notepad. “Why not?”
“The first time we met, we were both wearing full clown makeup. White greasepaint, fake noses, wigs, big sloppy costumes—there’s no way I could have known who he was when he auditioned for the play. When we performed at the Children’s Home together last Easter, I didn’t even know his last name.” Erin was relieved and elated that she’d solved the mystery of why David made her feel uncomfortable. “I guess that I disliked him because he reminds me of when Amy was in the hospital.”
“A lot of things must remind you of Amy. But not everything that reminds you gives you a headache.”
Erin fidgeted in the chair. She was so sure she’d hit on the solution to her headaches generated by David. “I was just making an observation,” she said testily.
“Did you tell David about meeting him before?”
“Oh, no,” Erin said. “I don’t want him to know.”
“Why?”
“I’d feel stupid talking about it. He didn’t know Amy. And I’ll never be a clown again. So why bring it up?”
Dr. Richardson pushed away from her desk and sat back in her chair. “Do you know what a support group is, Erin?”
“It’s a group of people who have something in common. Theres a support group at Briarwood for girls with divorced parents, and they meet once a week.”
“I oversee a grief support group for young people who’ve lost a parent or a sibling or even a friend.”
“So?”
“I’d like you to meet with us.”
“I meet with you.”
“You’d continue to meet with me, but you’d also meet with them. We gather in my conference room on Friday nights.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“I’m pretty busy already. Between school and dance classes and now the play, I don’t have much free time. If I have any, I work in Mom’s store.”
“You could make time.”
“I really don’t want to come.” Dr. Richardson looked at her expectantly, so Erin continued. “I don’t want to sit around with a bunch of strangers and talk about Amy.”
“Talking often helps—both you and the others. It helps you realize that you’re not alone, that other people have been through the same thing and feel similar emotions.”
“No one feels like I do. And talking won’t bring Amy back.”
“But facing your feelings can help you.”
Erin wanted to scream. Why did the counselor keep firing dumb suggestions at her? “Look, I need to cut today short. I’ve got lots of homework tonight.” She stood. “I thought you’d be glad that I figured out why I didn’t like David.”
“I’m not sure that’s all of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think there’s a deeper reason why you feel uncomforta
ble around this boy.”
“Like what?”
“We’re looking for the answers together, aren’t we?”
“In other words, you want me to figure it out on my own,” Erin said. If Dr. Richardson knew what was wrong, why wouldn’t she tell her?
“Please consider coming to the support group.”
“I said I was too busy.” She stood and crossed to the door. “I’ve got play practice too, so I gotta go now.”
The therapist picked up her appointment pad. “I’ll put you down for next week,” she said.
Erin nodded, but deep down she doubted she’d make the appointment. She was tired of talking about the past, and so far nothing much had changed. She still got headaches. And now, with the counselor pressuring her to come and spill her guts in front of a bunch of strangers … Why would she talk to strangers about things she couldn’t even discuss with her own parents?
Friday night after rehearsal some of the cast went out for pizza, and Shara all but dragged Erin along. At the pizza parlor six of them squeezed into a booth. Wedged between David and Andy, Erin grimaced at Shara on the other side of the dimly lit table. The aroma of tomato sauce and cheese made Erin’s stomach growl. “And you said you weren’t hungry,” David joked.
“I said I didn’t want to come,” Erin corrected. A part of Erin really wanted to be there, but a part of her felt cut off and distanced from the others. It made no sense to her. “I’ve got to work at my mom’s boutique tomorrow.”
“So what?” Seth asked. “Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
The others laughed, and Erin felt her face flush.
“I’ve got a show to do, but I can’t let a small detail like being up at seven A.M. deter me from pizza,” David offered, drawing the attention away from Erin.
“Where?” Seth wanted to know. “Maybe we’ll drop by and throw tomatoes.”
David flipped water on him from his water glass. “I wouldn’t notice even if you did. I don’t actually wake up until noon. Just ask my science teacher,” he joked.
“Lots of fun things come in the morning,” Pinky told him.
Erin Bennett 1&2 - The End of Forever Page 14
