by Syms, Carly
"Comes off in six weeks. Almost five now. Then the doctor will tell me when he thinks I can play again."
"That's not too bad."
"It is when your whole life is volleyball," I argue. "And it is when it costs you the same scholarship you'd worked like crazy to get."
Russ runs his hand over his mouth. "Are you kidding? They took it away?"
"Found out this afternoon." I take a deep breath, determined not to burst into tears in the middle of this beautiful, lovely patio. "Coach Morris was all, 'yeah, but you still have other scholarship offers' and all I can think about is how much I don't care about them. And then that makes me feel like a crappy person because I'm the only person on the whole team to even get a scholarship. I don't know."
"Yeah, that's a tough one."
"And so now I just feel like I have nothing," I babble on. I'm pretty sure Russ had no idea what he was getting himself into when he got me started down this path. "No volleyball. No teammates. No scholarship. It's all I've known. I'm going to be stuck in this damn small town forever."
I'm expecting Russ to shower me with sympathy, but all he offers is some kind of half-shrug. "Change happens, Emma. That's all this is. And Phoenix isn't exactly a small town, you know."
"Okay, but I don't have to like it."
He nods. "True, I guess. But why not do something about it?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Like join the play."
"I already made the cast list."
"Exactly. But are you going to take your role?"
My forehead creases. "Well, yeah."
He looks at me in surprise. "Oh."
"I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"It's my face," Russ says. "Everyone says I have a very friendly face."
I stare at him for a few seconds and he sticks his tongue out and makes his eyes bulge, and I can't help it. I start to giggle. "You have something," I tell him, relieved the dangerously awkward spell of the last conversation seems to have broken.
He opens his mouth to respond but the waitress appears, carrying a plate of grilled cheese in one hand and a pan of pizza in the other. She sets them down in front of us and we smile at each other.
"Dig in," he says, pointing to my sandwich. "If this conversation didn't make you feel better, that grilled cheese sure will."
And as I lift my food shakily with one hand, his words slam in to me and almost make me not hungry at all.
Russ, I realize, could tell how upset I was this afternoon.
And Blaine hadn't said a word.
CHAPTER TEN
I'm fidgety all throughout the rest of the week. It's Friday, finally, so I guess some of that's to be expected, but it's also the first day of rehearsals. Russ had said when he dropped me off at home the other day that today would be casual and just Mary giving us our parts in the play, but I still catch myself absently jiggling my leg and chewing at the skin along my left thumbnail all day.
When the final bell rings, I'm all set to sweep my books into my bag and bolt from the classroom.
It's hard to believe I'm so nervous about the play, but I guess there's something about knowing that maybe I can still be good at something when it suddenly feels like I can't do anything right.
I seem to keep forgetting that I sang "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" at my audition. Mary's probably humoring me and my role will be to sweep the stage between scenes to keep everyone safe or something silly and useless like that.
It's not like it'd be much of a surprise with the way things are going lately.
I let out some air and walk up to the auditorium, ready to get this day over with, and get in some quality time with my bed.
"Yo." Russ is by my side within seconds of me hauling open the door and walking inside. It's like he's been standing next to the door waiting for me. "What took you so long?"
I briefly close my eyes, take a deep breath and sigh. "It's nothing."
"You sure about that? Looks like you've been sucking on a lemon."
"Yeah, I'm -- what?" I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Sucking on a lemon?"
"Don't look at me like that, Em. It's a normal phrase."
"Yeah, okay, whatever you say."
"Come on, Mary's going to hand out the parts."
I follow him to the front rows of the auditorium where about fifteen people are already sitting, patiently waiting for Mary. A few heads swing in our direction as Russ claims a seat, and I take the one right next to him.
I don't miss the strange look on Lana's face when she sees us together, either, but I have enough problems right now. I don't need to add worrying about her not liking me to the list.
Besides, let's face it.
It's not like I've had a problem with people liking me before. They all do.
"Is this going to take awhile?" I lean over and whisper to Russ.
He looks down at me and shrugs. "I dunno. Mary's a talker."
"Oh, great."
"Hello, lovelies!"
Mary sweeps her way out from behind one of the thick red velvet curtains lining the stage and waves to us all.
"Hi, Mary," the group -- me not included -- responds in unison. I frown and make a mental note to remember this for next time.
But I hope we don't do it a lot. Reminds me of kindergarten.
Or some kind of therapy group.
"Welcome back, welcome back, and congratulations!" Mary beams at us. "You are all here, of course, because you're very special. You all have something that I know will contribute to making the fall play just magnificently breathtaking!"
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Mary's definitely found her calling in drama. She walks over to a small folding table set up to the left of center stage to pick up a stack of neon pink paper and passes it to the person sitting closest to the stage.
"Take one and pass it on, Myron," she says after the guy starts reading the first sheet in the stack. "Come on, darling, this is a basic kindergarten skill."
The group chuckles politely as Myron's cheeks flush and he quickly thrusts the rest of the papers at the girl sitting to his left. They make their way through the crowd until Russ passes the last sheet to me.
It's another cast list, but this one has our roles, too.
My belly starts to clench as I quickly scan the bottom for my name next to some unimportant part, and I'm about to raise my hand and tell Mary she's made a mistake and left me off when Russ nudges me in the side.
"Oh jeez, Em."
"What?"
"You're Miss Halpern."
"Huh? No, my last name is Thompson."
Russ rolls his eyes and sighs like he can't believe he has to deal with me. "I know who you are," he says with a hint of testiness seeping into his voice. "Look on the page."
"I did. My name isn't there."
"Are you blind? Look." He taps the top of the sheet, and I'm about to tell him that he better stop being so rude because, while I might have a bum wrist, my eyesight is perfectly fine when he holds the paper up just inches from my nose, and my breathing gets a little funny when I see what he sees.
Because holy crap.
I mean, holy, holy crap.
So much for making quick work out of the audition just to prove Russ wrong and forgetting about the school play forever.
Because printed right underneath Russ' name and right next to the impossible-to-ignore Miss Halpern is my name.
Emma Thompson.
Or is it Emma Halpern now?
I rub my eyes and look at the paper again, then back up at Russ. "What is this? Some kind of joke?"
He shakes his head. "Mary doesn't mess around with this stuff."
"I'm not an actress," I say weakly.
A small smile twitches on his face. "You weren't an actress, anyway."
"Ugh. My stomach hurts."
Now he's full-on beaming. "Can't handle the pressure of being the female lead?"
My eyes narrow. "Oh, I assure you, I can handle it just f
ine."
He looks skeptical. "So what's with the nausea?"
"I'm just not sure I want it, that's all." I glance back down at the sheet, just to make sure my name hasn't suddenly jumped to the bottom next to Crowd Member No. 6.
What I'd give to be Erin Michael right now. No sweat with that kind of part.
"So what does Miss Halpern do, anyway?"
Russ glances at me out of the corner of his eyes. "Well, she tries really hard not to fall in love with Prince Alex." He pauses. "But eventually realizes she can't deny her true feelings for him."
I roll my eyes. "Are you kidding me? I'm some lovestruck commoner lusting after a prince?"
Russ laughs. "Pretty much, but your character is a lot less obvious about it."
"I haven't been lovestruck a day in my life," I say, and then I immediately frown as my mind turns to Blaine. "I mean, uh, other than with my boyfriend now."
Russ must be thinking the same thing because he turns a strange, possibly-never-seen-before-in-nature shade of reddish green and he focuses intently on the stage.
I swallow hard and say nothing, and try to push that disgusting and totally unsettling thought out of my head, but it's not working, and I think it's about to completely and totally invade my brain.
"Alright, alright, alright!"
I snap my head up, breaking the spell. Mary comes to my rescue once again.
I'm really going to have to stop counting on her for this.
"I'm sure you've all read over this sheet by now," she says. "And if you haven't, we may want to rethink your participation in the play." A smattering of giggles. "Now, we're not going to go crazy and begin rehearsal today, but I do want to send you home with your scripts and with an assignment." She points to a second, much taller, stack of papers bound with black coils resting on the table.
"We have a mix of old pros and new faces in this play," Mary goes on, and I try not to blush or make eye contact with anyone. I have no idea if I'm the only new person and I don't want to look up and see everyone staring at me and find out. "Some of you may find this exercise to be a bit silly or a waste of time, but I want you to do it, anyway. Or at least I want you to tell me that you've done it," she says with a smile, and there are more laughs from the rest of the group.
It definitely makes me think most of these guys are pretty familiar with Mary and her sense of humor.
Urrghhh.
I don't want to be the new kid. I'm used to fitting in, and knowing exactly where my role is.
I can't remember the last time I had to figure out my place.
Or if this is even the right spot to start looking for it again at all.
Life is a heck of a lot easier when you know you're right where you belong...and a lot more chaotic when you're watching it all explode in front of your face.
"Take your scripts home with you tonight," Mary says. "Take them into a private room and stand in front of a mirror. Go through and find your lines and read them out loud to yourself. No one else. Just you."
I might be going crazy, but I'm positive Mary looks right at me when she says it.
Oh, yeah. I'm definitely the only newbie.
"That's all I've got for you lovelies today," she concludes. "Come on up and grab your scripts and get a good night of rest. We start up for real Monday afternoon. Same place, same time."
Russ is on his feet before Mary even finishes her last sentence. I'm about to ask him to give me a ride home since he's already done it before, but it's like he's turned on the jets and has made it to the stage to grab a copy of the script before I'm even out all the way out of my chair.
I pick up my backpack and wait for him to come back with a script for me, too.
But he doesn't.
I watch as Russ tucks the bounded pile of papers under his arm and darts back behind the stage curtains. I stand here for a few minutes, sure he's just gone to ask Mary a question and will be back for me soon, but with every passing second, I realize he isn't coming back here tonight.
So that's weird.
I glance around and realize I'm the only person left in the auditorium. With a sigh, I shrug my backpack over my shoulder and grab the last copy of the script left on the table before heading out to the bus stop.
Alone.
***
There are heavy, purple bags under my eyes.
My hair is flat and boring.
My skin could really use a facial.
I'm pretty sure there's a pimple starting to poke out on my chin.
Maybe I'd look cute with a second piercing in my ears.
I'm glaring at myself in front of the mirror later tonight, just like Mary told us to do. The script is sitting closed on the bed behind me as I make a series of faces at the mirror, trying to convince myself I look as good as I used to, before all of this nonsense happened.
But it's no use.
I'm a mess.
With a sigh, I flop down on my bed and pick up the script. It's heavy in my hands, heavier than I thought it'd be, and I flip through it without really paying attention to what's in front of me.
Alex, give me a break. You think you're funny. You're not. You think you're charming. You're not. You think you're hot crap, well, I'm here to tell you -- you most definitely are not.
I pause as I'm skimming the pages, my eyebrows shooting up as I read over the words.
Miss Halpern gets a little snarky with Alex about midway through the play.
Hmm.
Getting to grumble at Russ on stage?
I might be able to get on board with that.
I flip back to the beginning of the script and read through it until my character wanders onto the stage for the first time. Miss Halpern is wearing a yellow rain slicker, hot pink rubber boots and twirling an umbrella when she makes her entrance.
She's already got me intrigued.
Prince Alex isn't around when the audience first meets Miss Halpern.
"'Oh, hello,'" I whisper as quietly as possible, reading from the script. "'I didn't see you there!'" Miss Halpern looks at the pizza delivery guy minding his own business in front of his car. "'But maybe you can help me. I need to find Lombard Street.'"
Pizza Guy looks around until his eyes settle on Miss Halpern. He is instantly smitten with her. She does not return his adoration.
I smile to myself and wish I'd stuffed one of the hot pink cast lists into my backpack before I left yesterday. I want to know who has to prance around stage in front of the whole school acting like he's in love with me.
Lucky guy.
How funny would it be if Russ had been cast as Pizza Guy?
Whoa.
Okay, where is that thought coming from?
Yikes.
I push it out of my head and re-focus on the script. Miss Halpern is dancing across the stage, oblivious to the pizza guy's obvious infatuation with her.
"'So you don't know Lombard Street? A pizza deliveryman who doesn't know the area?'" My voice grows louder with every word I speak as Miss Halpern. Soon, I'm up on my feet, wandering around my bedroom, reading my lines out loud.
It doesn't take very long to realize that Miss Halpern is kind of a badass.
I'm in the middle of yelling at the poor, flustered, red-faced pizza guy when I hear a snort behind me and whirl around.
My mother is standing in the entrance to my room, arms crossed over her chest, leaning up against the doorframe, a smirk on her face.
When she notices she has my attention, her smirk shifts into a smile and she gives me a round of golf claps.
Apparently, I've been so engrossed in going over my lines that I haven't even heard her open the door.
"Bravo, Meryl Streep, bravo," she says, stepping into the room.
"Ha, ha, Mom. You're so funny."
"No, really, honey, that wasn't half bad. I didn't know you had it in you. I better start packing for the Oscars."
I roll my eyes. "It's nothing."
"What's nothing? What is all of this?"
"But why?"
"Would you rather I sit around the house and mope that I'm not playing volleyball everyday?"
Mom's eyes widen. "Goodness, no, Emma, let's not be so dramatic. You've never shown an interest in theater before. It's a valid question."
"I'm allowed to have new interests."
"Emma!" Mom looks at me like I've lost my mind. And maybe I have, I don't know. But for whatever reason, I really, really don't like hearing my mom's critical tone.
Here I am, being defensive about the school play.
Me.
Go figure.
"Sorry! Sorry." I sigh. "It's just...I'm having a good time with it so far. So it'd be nice if you'd support me."
"I wasn't aware that I wasn't supporting you."
I shake my head, sure I must be going crazy, and hold up the script. "I really need to make it through the rest of my lines before bed."
Mom nods. "Of course." She pauses in the doorway like there's something else she wants to say, then offers me a small, awkward smile and disappears, closing the door behind her.
I look down at the script in my hand, ready to get back to it, but suddenly, it's lost its luster. I no longer feel like running around my bedroom pretending to be the feisty, wonderful Miss Halpern.
I'm just Emma Thompson again.
And lately, I'm starting to think I have no idea who she really is.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Now this -- this is the life."
Blaine stretches his arms over his head as he sighs and stares up at the bright blue sky. I look over at him from the next lounger and smile. He's sprawled out on a towel across his pool chaise, sunglasses on, sunscreen slathered over his smooth, defined bare chest, an easy, lazy smile on his face.
I look up above me right into the lightly blowing palm tree fronds. This exact spot has always been my most favorite place in the whole yard, especially when small beams of sunlight peak around the palms.
It's like being on a permanent vacation, but only having to go thirty feet from home.
"It definitely doesn't suck."
"Come cool off with me," he says, hopping off the chair and holding out a hand to me.
