by Allen Zadoff
I ruined his show. I did it on purpose. I don’t care about the theater, only about my career.
Who knows what else?
Summer isn’t in his group. She’s all the way on the far side of the room near the unlit fireplace.
I head towards her. There are some actors in my way, and I excuse myself. I’m almost there when Derek appears in front of me, blocking the way.
He smiles like he’s happy to see me.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, and he sweeps his arm in a circle around the gargantuan living room.
“You mean your dad’s abode,” I say.
He shrugs.
“He built the house. But he’s out of town, so we all get to enjoy it,” he says.
“I thought he was coming to the show,” I say.
“I thought so, too,” Derek says.
Derek looks sad, and for a second I feel sorry for him. But then he starts smiling again.
“It’s not a problem,” he says. “In fact it worked out better for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“If my father had been here, he wouldn’t have seen my show. He would have seen your giant candelabra. By the time he gets back next weekend, we will be up and running, tech and all. Then he can see the real thing.”
Derek laughs to himself.
“Yes, indeed,” he says. “Tonight was exciting, but next weekend is going to be groundbreaking.”
He steps back and puts his arm around Summer.
“Lots to celebrate,” he says.
It’s not like Summer melts into his arms. Far from it. But she doesn’t shrug him off either. I can see where this is headed. I’m out of the picture now. He’ll pick up where he left off with his design, with Summer. It’s his theater department again. He’ll go until he gets what he wants or until he’s bored.
The thought is almost too much for me.
I want to run away. Maybe Mom is still outside, and I can get a ride home with her. Maybe nobody will remember that I was here.
But I’ve spent my life running from moments like this.
“I want to talk to Summer,” I say.
Derek’s eyes widen in surprise.
“But does she want to talk to you?” he says.
There’s one way to find out.
“Hi,” I say to Summer.
“Hi,” she says.
The room quiets down. I can feel the actors and techies behind me, watching.
“I don’t want to be the funny friend,” I say.
“What’s the funny friend?” Summer says.
“You know, the guy who hangs around you, and you tell him all your secrets or whatever, and then he smells like your shampoo.”
“What are you talking about, Ziggy?”
“I don’t want to be just friends.”
“Who do you want to be?” Derek says. His arm is still around her shoulders.
“I want to be more than that,” I say to Summer.
I feel my face burning.
“I don’t understand,” Summer says.
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re special,” I say.
“She knows that already,” Derek says.
“Maybe I don’t know it,” Summer says. “Maybe I want to hear it.”
“Yawn,” Derek says.
“Tell me more,” Summer says.
Derek looks pissed. He takes his arm off her shoulder.
“Give it your best shot,” he says to me.
“First of all, you’re pretty,” I say. “And cool. And funny. And pretty.”
“Ziggy, I have to be honest. You’re kind of laming out here,” she says.
“Please be quiet for a second,” I say.
“Tell her to shut up,” Derek says. “Smart move.”
“Why should I be quiet?” Summer says.
“Because I’m trying to tell you something important,” I say.
She takes a breath and waits.
“I’m so bad at this,” I say.
“You’re doing pretty good now,” she says.
“I like you a lot,” I say.
“In a friend way?” she says.
“In a girlfriend way.”
She looks into my eyes.
I’m used to actors looking over my shoulder, looking past me, looking straight through. That’s not what Summer does. Not now.
“Well, Ziggy. That’s something to say.”
“It sure is,” Derek says. “A little cliché. Not at all poetic.”
“I’m a techie. I’m not good with poetry. I’m better with the real thing.”
“Is this the real thing?” she says.
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“I think …,” she says.
And then she pauses, biting her lip with her right front tooth. I see the little line there, the scar from the accident she had when she was a kid. I wish I had been there when Summer fell. I would have put my arms around her and hugged her until she stopped crying.
“I think …,” she says again.
“What?” I say softly, because I can see she’s struggling with something.
“I think it’s good news, what you said.”
“Why is that?” I say.
“Because I like you, too,” she says.
“Theater people care about each other,” Derek says. “It’s natural to be friends.”
“As more than a friend,” Summer says. “As a boyfriend.”
Derek’s smile goes away.
“You two are creeping me out,” he says.
He looks across the room at the group of actresses who play the fairies. There’s a new girl there. A freshman.
“Cheers, ladies,” he calls out, and heads towards them.
“Thank God,” Summer says. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“You don’t like him?”
“I mean he’s talented and all. But a little bit of arrogant Brit goes a long way,” she says. “Anyway, he’s just jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of you. Of what a star you were tonight.”
“Do you think so?” I say.
“I was impressed,” Summer says.
I glance behind me. Reach and Grace are standing across the room watching us. They both give me the thumbs-up at the same time.
“To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you want to talk to me at all,” Summer says.
“Why?”
“You were pretty angry in the practice room.”
“You were acting like a jerk,” I say.
“I know. I deserved it. That was stupid of me.”
“Very stupid.”
“Ouch, Ziggy.”
“What happened? You totally changed overnight.”
“I freaked out. Derek was telling me things, the actors were talking behind my back—add that to the pressure of the show opening, and I kind of went crazy.”
“Are you going to go crazy again?”
“I don’t plan on it,” she says.
Just then a song starts to play. A love song from the musical West Side Story. A giant whoop lets go from the actors in the room.
“What about your just friends speech?” I say.
“I don’t want to be just friends. That would be terrible,” Summer says.
A bunch of actors jump up and start doing dance moves. Soon actors are spinning around us, singing the lyrics as loud as they can, doing fakey vibrato and loving every minute of it.
“I think we should dance,” Summer says.
“Slight problem. I don’t know how,” I say.
“Put your arms around me,” she says.
I wrap my arms around her back, and she pulls me in close. I smell the delicious Summer smell.
“Hold me tighter,” she says.
And I do. We stand in the middle of the party, our arms around each other. There are some weird looks from the actors in the room, but some smiles, too. Most of the techies are smiling.
“What now?” I whisper.
&nb
sp; “We have sex,” she says.
“Really?”
“Ziggy! Are you serious?”
“I don’t know these things!”
She gives me a playful punch on the arm, then pulls me towards her.
“Just rock back and forth,” she says in my ear.
We sway in each other’s arms, barely moving as people dance around us.
I think about my dad. I wish he could see me like this. I start to get the empty feeling inside, so I hug her tighter. The feeling doesn’t go away. It just gets softer, like I can feel it and still be okay.
“How do you feel?” Summer says.
“Like I’m waking up from a terrible dream,” I say.
Summer pulls me close.
“Wake up, wake up,” she says. “I’m right here.”
I think about what the cast party would look like from the catwalk. People’s heads bobbing up and down, moving closer and farther apart. Music heard from above. Fun viewed from up high and far away.
I’m not sure yet, but I think it’s better down here.
