by Rachel Wise
“That was act one,” I said, flipping the pages back and forth in my notebook. I was suddenly worried that I hadn’t taken careful enough notes. And what if Michael hadn’t either?
“Do you think it matters?” Michael said, sitting back in his chair.
“Do I think what matters?” I asked.
“Which act this stuff happened in?”
“This is how I see it,” I said, trying to muster up some confidence while wiping a bit of icing off my chin. “We’re going to have to be critical, no way around it. There were a lot of mistakes. Too many, in my opinion, for a drama club that has won so many awards and has such a strong reputation. Trust me, it would be easier if we could just say everything’s great. But if we are going to pick it apart . . .”
“. . . then we’d better be accurate,” Michael said, reading my mind.
“Exactly,” I said, and smiled. “I might need another cinnamon bun to get through this.”
“Coming right up,” he said, and went to the freezer.
That night I looked over what we had. We still couldn’t agree on when certain mistakes happened, based on our notes. I wasn’t sure how we were going to figure it out before Friday. I couldn’t ask Allie. She’d freak out knowing I was actually going to write about these things. I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, exhausted. I guess writing a play review isn’t so simple after all.
The next day we met right after school in the Voice office. We started drafting the beginning so we’d have at least something down.
“How are we going to fact-check this stuff?” I said, running my hands through my hair. I was starting to get stressed out. It was already Tuesday and we weren’t much closer to a finished piece than we were yesterday.
Michael leaned back in his chair and chewed on the end of his pencil. It’s something he likes to do when he’s thinking. I noticed that all his pencils had little bite marks around the erasers. He suddenly leaned forward and pointed his pencil at me.
“Of course! The school always records DVDs of the shows and keeps them in the library. We can fact-check that way,” he said.
“Right!” I said, equally excited, but then thought about our time constraints and slumped in my chair. “That’s going to take a long time, going through all that footage for each performance,” I said. “How are we going to get it done in time?”
“I think we need to get busy. What are you doing tonight?” he asked me.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Great, it’s a date!” he added.
I looked up from my notebook, surprised.
“I—I mean, you know, as an expression,” he backpedaled, and then started nibbling on his pencil again.
“Yeah, of course,” I said hurriedly. “I knew you meant it that way.” But I wondered if he knew he meant it that way.
“But you know, maybe some other time, we . . .” And then he stopped.
“We what?” I asked, my heart suddenly racing.
Then the door swung open and there was Mr. Trigg. He put down a stack of books he was carrying and plugged in his electric teapot. Aarrgh! Advisor of School Newspaper Ruins Great Romance!
“Cheers, fellow journos! How’s my modern Woodward-and-Bernstein team doing?” he said while getting his tea things together. In a moment he would offer us some tea, and then we’d be stuck here with Mr. Trigg in the middle for at least another ten minutes.
Michael and I quickly glanced at each other. I stood up and started clearing my stuff quickly. Michael started to do the same.
“We’re great, but I just forgot something that I have to do,” I said, and went to the door. My head was about to burst.
“Yeah, me too. We have to get to the library before it closes,” Michael said quickly.
“Right! That’s absolutely right!” I said loudly. Both Michael and Mr. Trigg looked at me, seeming alarmed.
“You okay?” Michael asked.
I nodded. “So I guess we’d better go,” I tried to say more calmly.
“Um, yeah. See ya later, Mr. Trigg,” Michael said.
Mr. Trigg gave us a salute and we both hurried out the door. We rushed down the hall. “I’m glad you remembered that. What time is it? The library closes at four.”
“It’s exactly four!” he cried.
The library was on the other side of the school. We made a left and ran down another hallway. When we got to the end, we saw that the janitor had blocked off the next hallway for cleaning.
“Follow me!” Michael called out, turning around and going back to where we’d come from and down another hallway. Now we had to go the long way around. I followed as fast as I could, but the floor was slippery and I certainly didn’t want to have a wipeout now. We arrived at the library, breathless, just as Mrs. Osborne, the librarian, was coming out.
“Wait!” Michael called to her.
“Please! We have a library emergency!” I said, catching up.
She glanced over her shoulder slowly as she was turning the key in the lock of the library door. She seemed tired. Her bag looked heavy on her shoulder, and her glasses were slipping down her nose. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but maybe it was hard to be a librarian, with kids asking you questions all day long.
“Tomorrow’s another day, folks,” she said, going back to her lock and key.
We both stood in front of her and started to explain our problem, right at the same time, loudly.
“Whoa, whoa! Slow down. You need the DVD for West Side Story?”
“The school production,” Michael and I both said at the same time.
“So we can fact-check for our review,” I said.
“That’s due this Friday,” Michael said. Now we were filling in each other’s sentences.
Mrs. Osborne grumbled something I couldn’t hear, and then she got her keys out of her pocket.
“You have two minutes to find it,” she said, and opened the door.
We yelled out thank-yous and fled to the dark DVD section, since the lights were all off. We ran our eyes over the cases, which were arranged alphabetically. Luckily, it wasn’t a huge section. If someone had the DVD out already, or if they hadn’t put it in the library yet, we were toast.
“Here!” Michael said, holding up a red case. On the front was a picture of the cast. I saw Allie’s smiling face near the middle of the lineup. We ran back to the counter, and Mrs. Osborne checked it out quickly. We all walked out together.
“We appreciate it, Mrs. Osborne,” I said in my sweetest tone.
“Well, write a good review,” she said. She hauled her bag over her shoulder and went down the hall.
“Man, that was lucky,” Michael said when we got outside.
“Yeah. So what time tonight?”
“Maybe seven?” I said.
“Great, see you later,” he said, and we walked off in our different directions.
Chapter 11
BOY ASKS GIRL TO WATCH MOVIE AT UNKNOWN LOCATION
Back home that afternoon, I realized we never actually said whose house we were going to. I figured that since Michael had asked, it would probably be his, but I didn’t want to just show up at his house without making sure. I didn’t know if I should call him or wait for him to call me. Boy Asks Girl to Watch Movie at Unknown Location. What I really wanted to know was what he had planned to say to me before Mr. Trigg burst in and ruined it all. I knocked on Allie’s door. She had calmed down since sleeping practically all day Sunday. When Allie was in a decent mood, she gave me good boy advice. She was almost normal last night at dinner. She didn’t even get mad or sing or try to text her friends.
“Yeah?” she called.
“It’s me. Boy trouble,” I said, knowing that would get her going.
I could hear the springs in her bed creak as she bounded up to answer the door.
“Trouble in paradise?” she said, grinning.
We both flopped down on her bed, me lying on my stomach at the foot, my face held up by my hands, Allie proppi
ng herself up with pillows at the head.
“Not much of a paradise, and if you make fun of me, I’m not going to tell you anything,” I said, raising my head and glaring at her.
“Okay, okay. It’s just so tempting. But seriously, what’s going on?”
I told her about Michael asking me to meet him tonight, but not exactly asking me over.
“I mean, do I show up at his house at seven? What if that’s presumptuous? Should I call?”
Allie chewed on her thumbnail as she thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, he asked you. That means it’s at his house. You’re overthinking things, as usual,” she said. “Now, I’ve got a ton of homework—I’m still catching up on everything I didn’t do last week because of the play. So skedaddle.” She waved at me.
“Well, nice spending this quality time with you,” I said, getting up and walking toward the door.
“Anytime,” Allie called as I closed her door.
I went into my room, sat on my desk chair, and took a few spins. That always calmed me. I checked out some of my favorite news blogs and looked at the clock. It was only five thirty. I tried to do my math homework, but could hardly concentrate and kept staring at the clock. Even though Allie’s talk was short and sweet, I think she was right. I wanted another opinion, so I thought of e-mailing Hailey, but I kind of wanted to leave her alone for a while with all my Michael stuff. I can understand that when your love life hasn’t been that interesting, you might not want to hear about someone else’s. Then, like a beacon in the night, an IM blinked on the screen.
Can we watch at ur house? Parents r having friends over for dnr.
No problemo! I zinged back a half a second later.
Thank goodness. Problem solved!
I asked my mom if Michael could come over, knowing she would be fine with it, and rushed through our dinner. Mom said there was ice cream for dessert, or we could make popcorn.
When Michael knocked on the door, Allie came flying out of nowhere and was opening it before I’d even gotten up from my seat.
“Hello there,” she said, all sparkly, flipping her hair from one shoulder to another.
Michael gave her a big smile. He looked so cute in jeans and a gray hoodie.
“Hi, Allie. You were so good in the play!” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
And then I saw it. My sister blushed. I felt sort of sick. “You’d better give me a good review,” she said, batting her eyes at him.
He just nodded.
“So, Michael, we’d better get started,” I said, giving my sister the evil eye.
“What? Oh, yeah! Sure!” he said, looking embarrassed. He grabbed his backpack and followed me into the den.
The rest of the night went well. We watched the Friday night performance and the Saturday matinee. We clarified most of our notes. The scenery definitely fell both times in the first act. We made popcorn and Allie and Mom joined us for a bit, but then we couldn’t discuss any of the play’s problems in front of Allie. I just recorded them in my notes. Anyway, Allie was so enthralled by her own performance, she didn’t seem to care that I was taking notes. I stole glances at Michael when Allie was singing her big number onstage. He was watching a little too closely, I thought. It got late quickly and we decided to watch the last show the next day.
“So now you forget all about me because you’re busy with the paper . . . and Michael again?” Hailey said while I was stuffing books in my locker with my foot the next morning.
“Never, my dear, dear Hailey—you are unforgettable!” I said. I took her by the hands, twirled, and dipped her. Then we both kind of klutzed out and landed in a heap on the floor, giggling.
“Want the truth?” I asked, promising myself I’d be really direct with Hailey. She got up and pulled me to my feet.
“Always, you know that,” she said, but she didn’t look at me. Suddenly she was really busy with her locker.
I took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to bug you with too much Michael stuff. I just know you might not want to hear about it every day. We’ve been pushing to get the play review done. That and Michael are all I’m kind of thinking about right now.” I watched her carefully to see if she was taking it okay.
She turned to me. “It’s fine, I understand. And I always want to hear about Michael stuff. It’s never boring to me,” she said, and she seemed to mean it.
I relaxed my shoulders and smiled. I knew that I could always count on Hailey.
“How about a girls’ night this Friday after I turn in my pieces for the Voice? We could rent a movie, do our nails. You could sleep over?”
“Yay!” Hailey said, and clapped her hands. Then her faced scrunched up. “But I thought you were just writing the review. What’s the other piece?”
I froze. I hadn’t meant to say “pieces,” but I was thinking about the review and the Dear Know-It-All letter that was also looming. So dumb. “‘Pieces’? I meant ‘piece.’ This review has suddenly become such a bear, it seems like more than one!” I said, trying to sound believable.
“All that time with Michael is just messing with your head,” she said.
That night I went to Michael’s to watch the last show. I realized when I got there that I was just wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and nothing fancy. It’s funny—when I spend a lot of time with Michael, I don’t think about what I’m wearing and what I look like when I’m eating pizza or popcorn anymore. We just hang out and have a good time, like two regular people. I wonder if that’s how it is when you have a boyfriend. Maybe a little of both? I can’t wait for this review to be done, but in some ways I don’t want it to be. Then we’ll have to go back to bumping into each other in the cafeteria—literally, if Hailey has anything to do with it.
On Thursday afternoon we met in Trigger’s office to finally lay it all out. We combined our notes, did a draft, and then I typed it up. We started off in a positive light and wrote about the long history of stellar performances by the drama club. We talked about all the strong singing and dancing, especially Allison Martone’s excellent portrayal of Anita; the complicated staging; and the ambitious lighting and scenery. Then we got down to business and mentioned the “inconsistent performance” by Julia Gowen and some of the other key players. We also got into details about the lighting mishaps and the scenery disasters. We couldn’t help but mention the huge crash that was a cause of distraction and concern on Friday night. We ended by saying that even with all the mishaps, “the run was still a showcase of theatrical talent that our town has become accustomed to, but the drama club might be served better by a simpler choice of play.” I felt like our review was honest, accurate, and well supported. That’s all a critic could do, right?
“And scene,” I announced as I typed the last word. We stood up and gave each other a double high five, which became a quick hug. I couldn’t believe I was hugging Michael Lawrence. I breathed in the Tide and then snapped back to the real world. Michael must have felt the same way, because suddenly we pulled away from each other.
“Okay, so I’ve got to run. Practice in fifteen minutes!” he said, his face a bit red as he grabbed his things and packed up.
“Yeah, me too,” I said, even though I wasn’t in any rush at all.
“But wait,” Michael said, sitting down, running his fingers through his hair. He looked troubled.
“What is it?” I said, scared of what he was about to say. Maybe it was about how unprofessional it was for us to hug.
“Are we being too harsh? It’s not a favorable review. I mean, what about your sister? Won’t she be upset?”
“My sister?” I said, my mouth dropping open. “First of all, we totally complimented her performance. Second of all, who cares about Allie? She didn’t direct the play. We justified all our criticisms. We are reporters, after all, and it’s up to us to be professional, unbiased, and not influenced by”—I was becoming slightly hysterical now, waving my hands around—“by people’s sisters!” I knew it. He just wanted to be close t
o me because he had a crush on Allie!
“Okay, okay. Calm down,” he said, looking down at the table. “I guess you’re right. And it’s your sister, not mine.”
“That’s right, she’s my sister,” I said, not really sure of what, exactly, I meant.
After we posted the piece online in deathly quiet, we rushed out of the office and went our separate ways.
On Friday night, while Hailey and I were doing facial masks, we went over everything in full detail. Hailey lay on my bed, her face covered in green paste. I was on the floor, also looking like I’d gotten carried away with toothpaste.
Hailey said, “He doesn’t have a crush on Allie any more than any seventh grader would on a pretty high school girl. I mean, he’s human.”
“So you’re on his side?” I said, getting slightly peeved.
“Duh, of course not. I’m just giving you some perspective and being honest. What about the ice cream and the hug and making popcorn and all that’s happened between you guys the last couple of weeks? But then again, maybe you’re right—I mean, how could he have a crush on you when you look like that?” she said, giggling.
We both went to the mirror and looked at our strange alien faces and laughed. When we laughed, the dried masks cracked all over, making us look even stranger and causing more fits of laughter. This was exactly what I needed, just a silly night with my bestie. Medical Research Shows Sleepovers with Best Friends a Cure-All.
“No more boy talk tonight,” I said when we recovered. Hailey was probably right, anyway. “Deal?”
“Deal,” she said.
Since I’d been so wrapped up with the review, which had taken longer to write than some of our other pieces, I told Mr. Trigg I was just going to answer a letter I had gotten a while ago for the column. A guy—I think it was a guy—wrote in about wanting to spend more time with his busy dad, but didn’t know how to ask. I basically told him he just needed to be honest and direct and tell his dad how he felt, because maybe his dad didn’t even know. I didn’t really this know from experience, since my dad died when I was really little and I don’t remember him much, but my mom is always busy, since she’s sort of the mom and the dad of our family. Sometimes I have to ask for special time with her, and she always thanks me for telling her how I feel.
