by Syms, Carly
Or something he'd hide from me, anyway.
Mary finishes talking and the cast disperses. Since it's the dress rehearsal, we're taking the whole thing from the top so I know I'm not needed on stage for a solid fifteen minutes, but Prince Alex is part of the opening scene.
Still no shot to grab him before this thing gets started.
I take a seat in the front row to watch the beginning of the play. The curtains are closed, the spotlight is on, our pianist is seated behind his baby grand and Mary is standing in front of the stage.
Go time.
The music begins and the curtains rise and it feels real to me for the first time. I get a little lightheaded thinking about how tomorrow it won't just be me and five other people hanging out in the seats.
I watch as Prince Alex trots out onto the stage in his full costume, and it takes me back to the day I first met him in the halls outside the auditorium when he had his big fake sword resting on his hip, and I can't help but smile.
He strides across the stage in the opening confrontation with his father, King Phillip, who just so happens to be played by John. It's the scene that sets up the rest of the play: Prince Alex will marry Lady Lorna, a woman from a neighboring kingdom, in order to unite the two troubled lands. Prince Alex is indifferent at first -- there's no girl out there who's captured his attention by now, so he figures he might as well settle down with the lovely Lorna.
It's not until a day later when he meets the cranky, stubborn and way-too-proud math teacher and falls in love.
With me.
Or, rather, with Miss Halpern.
When he shrugs and agrees to the king's marriage proposal, that's my cue to get ready and wait in the wings. I slide out of my chair and quietly head backstage. I watch the last few seconds of the scene, then Russ comes off stage and walks straight over to me.
"Hey you," he whispers, glancing around then quickly giving me a kiss.
It's so unexpected and I'm so surprised that I don't kiss him back. He grins, winks and hurries away, I'm guessing, before someone notices us together.
My head spins faster than it had been even seconds ago, which is really not good, considering it's my turn to get on stage. But I pull it all together and swish onto the stage, nearly tripping over absolutely nothing in these heavy boots.
"Oh, hello," I say to the pizza guy who's already on stage by the time I make my entrance. "I didn't see you there! But maybe you can help me. I need to find Lombard Street." I twirl the umbrella through my fingertips as I wait for him to deliver his lines.
He responds, and we engage in our banter and it goes fine and smooth and even Mary is nodding along happily, a far cry from her reaction when we went over this scene for the first time.
The rest of the dress rehearsal moves on without much of a hitch. I make it through kissing Russ, but just barely, and by the time it's finished, Mary's beaming as she gathers us around here in the audience.
"You have all surprised me greatly," she says, placing a hand over her heart for dramatic effect. "I truly believe you've come together over the last week and have now created something beautiful. I cannot wait to share it with the world tomorrow night. I'll keep this short and sweet because I know you've all heard plenty out of me lately." A small chuckle goes up, but I keep my mouth firmly shut. "Curtain goes up tomorrow night at exactly 7:30 p.m. I need you all here, in this auditorium, by 5 o'clock. Not a minute later. Pack your bags tonight. Forget nothing. I don't have a lot of extra swords and bonnets hanging around for an emergency. Got it?"
The group mumbles its understanding and Mary nods, satisfied.
"Very well. Rest up, drink water, eat healthy," she says. "You're dismissed."
I jump to my feet to hurry into the back and change out of the ridiculous final outfit Miss Halpern has to wear: a long-sleeved, floor-length dress, petticoat and bonnet. It's itchy, it's hot and I look like I've just stepped out of a sixteenth-century time machine.
I'm about to disappear into the dressing room when I see him. Russ is walking up the narrow hallway by himself. We're alone, at least for now. It takes me a split second to decide. I walk away from the door and purposefully stride toward him. His eyebrows shoot up and a lazy grin crosses his face but it's quickly replaced by a look of confusion when I grab his elbow without stopping or saying anything and pull him through the back exit of the auditorium and into Ms. Sharock's empty science classroom.
I close the door behind us and fold my arms across my chest.
"Well, hello to you, too, Emma," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that there's no reason to get upset yet, that I'm sure he has a simple explanation for what Amanda said happened.
Heck, maybe she'd misunderstood the story when she first heard it.
Maybe it was just that Russ had convinced me to audition for the play, which is totally true.
Now that makes more sense than anything else I've thought of so far.
"Hi." I sigh and force myself to uncross my arms, but they feel weird just hanging here so I use my left hand to grab onto my right behind my back.
"Just missed me so much you couldn't stand it anymore?" he teases. "Or is the prince costume? I know how much you loved me in it the first time you saw it."
"I have to ask you something," I blurt out, and in the same breath, I say: "Amanda told me the only reason I'm in the play is because you made Mary put me in it. True or false?"
His skin goes white, and I know I have my answer. An instant pit forms in my stomach as my mouth drops open.
"Emma, it's different than -- "
"No. No. True or false, Russ," I hiss through gritted teeth.
He hesitates and runs his hand over his mouth. "True, okay, but Emma. Wait. It's not that simple."
"Don't explain it. I don't want to know. I didn't even want to be part of this stupid play and you manipulated things so I would be part of it. You manipulated me!" I'm shaking so hard I feel like I can't even see straight. "How could you do something like that?"
"Because I thought it was what you needed," he says.
"That's stupid," I spit. "What does that even mean?"
"Em. Emma. Our lives were so different when we met a month ago, but it was pretty obvious to anyone who bothered to pay attention to you that you were miserable. You were lost. I wanted to help."
"Unbelievable. This is absolutely un-freakin'-believable! You didn't know me! How could you possibly figure out what I need?"
He raises his eyebrows. "Was I wrong?"
I swallow hard and stare at him, stunned into silence by his words. I'm so mad at him I can barely look at him without wanting to turn around and run away just so his obnoxious face isn't in front of me anymore.
"What?" I say at last because I can't think of any better response and I need to get my head to stop spinning.
"You heard me." It's his turn to fold his arms over his chest. "Emma. Was I wrong?"
"You know what?" I snap, the anger returning so quickly it's like it never even left. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter. You still did it. You still went behind my back and did this to me. I can't get over that, Russ."
"So what are you saying?"
I throw my hands up in the air. "I have no idea! I don't know what to do with any of this. I wish I could go back in time two hours ago and stop Amanda from telling me at all. Because now it's all ruined. It's like I did all this work for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing. The play is tomorrow. That still counts."
"No. I'm done with the play. I'm out."
"Emma, come on. What are you talking about?"
"I don't want to do it anymore."
"That's dumb."
"Not to me." I shake my head. "It's the only thing I can do."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't earn this."
He rolls his eyes. "Sure, Emma, and all of a sudden you care about earning things now?"
I step back as if he's slapped me, and he ma
y as well have because that's how it feels. My cheeks sting with fury and shock.
"I may have had a very good life," I say, my voice seeping out so low and steady I'm surprised I don't growl. "But don't for a second imply that I didn't earn every single thing I have. I deserve my college scholarships. I deserve my state championship rings. And I deserve the future I'm going to have because I still have three offers from schools on the table. Not because I know somebody or Coach Morris called up an old friend. Those scouts like what I can do on a volleyball court and that's part talent and part damn hard work. But that?" I point toward the auditorium across the hall. "I didn't earn that. It was given to me because you called in a favor and I want no part of it. So maybe before you go around accusing people of being entitled or undeserving, you should make sure you're not being a hypocrite."
Russ blows out some air. "You're right, I'm sorry," he says, holding up his palms as if to say he surrenders. "I shouldn't have talked to Mary. But I really thought it would help you after you got hurt. If I was wrong, I'm sorry. If I shouldn't have gone behind your back, I'm sorry. But would you have even done the play if I told you in the beginning?"
"Nope. No way."
He nods once, as if this somehow validates his actions. "Exactly."
"That means nothing, Russ. You were wrong."
He shrugs. "Yeah, you keep saying that. But you know what else? You're not the same person you were when I met you last month. You're nicer, you have new friends, you ditched the scumbag without blinking twice. And you smile a lot more now than you used to."
I scoff. "How would you know?"
"I've already told you. I knew who you were long before you knew me," he says. "I always thought you looked like you didn't belong with that crowd."
"Well, congratu-freakin'-lations, Russ, you got me away from my life with Blaine and Stella and volleyball," I say. "And maybe you were right that it wasn't good for me. But you know what else? That doesn't mean being with you is right, either."
These feel like perfect words to make an exit on, and I really, really don't want to keep going around in circles arguing with him. He clearly thinks he's right, and I know he isn't, but it's obvious I'm not going to change his mind.
And it's not like there's anything he can say or do right now that'll fix it, anyway.
So I do the only thing I can.
I turn and hurry out of the classroom and sprint down the hall, still dressed in the petticoat and bonnet, and burst out of the building into the parking lot where I gulp in as much fresh air as I can.
It had been a quick conversation with Russ.
But sometimes all life needs is a second for everything to change.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kneepads, sneakers and spandex shorts. A petticoat, a long-sleeved dress and a bonnet.
I stare at the two different outfits on my bed and gnaw anxiously on my bottom lip.
I'm torn, fifty-fifty, like there's a line running down the middle of my body. Half of me doesn't want to give up playing Miss Halpern -- I've sort of become attached to the crazy British umbrella-twirling math teacher --but the other half would be perfectly content never seeing Russ again.
And then there's the part of me that's starting to scream a little louder, the part that remembered Stella's words sometime around three in the morning and can't get them to shut up.
Should I be playing volleyball? Am I deserting my team when they need me the most? It's not an accusation I like, and I'd had an easy defense at the time -- I'd bowed out of the entire season, from the beginning to end, including all the playoffs -- but Stella's right.
I'm not hurt anymore.
And even if I can't actually make much of an impact on the court, I can still be there on the sideline, cheering on my teammates who've spent the last three years cheering on me.
With an aggravated, disappointed sigh, I pick up one outfit and stuff it into my bag, and I slip into the other one. I look at myself in the full-length mirror and nod once when I see my reflection.
I'm doing the right thing here.
This is who I am.
***
"Am I seeing things or is that really you?"
Stella Gonzalez squints at me when I push open the door to the girls' locker room in The Barn later in the afternoon.
I try to force a giant, genuine smile onto my face, but I'm confident I fail miserably. "It's me alright."
"And you're wearing your uniform," Stella, the ever-observant one, continues. "What's up with that?"
I roll my yes. "Jeez, and here I thought you wanted me to come back to the team, Stell."
She shakes her head and smiles. "Yeah, yeah, of course I do! I just didn't think you would, that's all. And definitely not after the other night. What happened?"
"Too much to get into now. When's the game start?"
She glances up at the clock hanging above the door. "In twenty minutes. Em, you're going to miss the play."
It's 4:10 now. The volleyball game'll get underway at 4:30, and Opening Night isn't until three hours after that, but I know as soon as Mary doesn't see me in the auditorium at 5:01, she'll call on Lana to replace me as Miss Halpern's understudy.
And don't think I haven't considered how irritating it is to know that Lana, of all people, will get to take over my part. But that's out of my control now.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't the cat comin' home!" Coach Morris grins widely when she sees me and Stella walk into the gymnasium.
"Hey, Coach."
"What the heck are you doin' here?" she asks, glancing down at the papers in her hand, then up at the clock. "I've already got my game plan set here, Emma, I'm not sure there's enough time to work you in."
"That's okay," I tell her. "I just want to be here for the team."
"It's nice to see you come home," she repeats and reaches out to ruffle my hair, which I immediately gather up into a ponytail. I've forgotten about that irritating habit of hers.
My old teammates trickle out on the court, each shooting strange, confused looks at each other when they see me on the sideline. Most are happy I'm back, of course, or at least, that's what they tell me.
But I know of at least one person who's probably not going to enjoy having me around too much:
Jasmine.
Coach Morris has the team go through a few minutes worth of warm ups just to stretch out their muscles but by then it's time for the game to start.
The ref blows her whistle and the teams take their places on the court. I watch, horrified, as Jasmine trots casually into the first service position.
Into my service position.
What the heck?
Hadn't she told me she was on the JV team at the party a month ago? And I know she wasn't varsity at the same time as me. I'd remember.
I swallow back the bile that's rising up the back of my throat.
That's when it happens.
Jasmine glances over at the bench, her eyes running over each person on the sideline until they land on me. Her mouth twitches up into a smirk and she winks -- she actually winks -- at me before she turns her attention back to the ref who tosses her the volleyball and she heads back behind the service line.
My stomach clenches.
What am I doing here?
This is wrong, completely wrong.
This isn't where I belong, not on the sideline. I know the volleyball court will always be my home, and I can't wait to get healthy to start playing again in college in the fall, but right now, this is the exact opposite of where I need to be.
"I have to go," I whisper so no one can hear it but me. "I have to go."
Without really thinking about it, I quickly gather up my stuff and jump up from my seat along the bench. Stella reaches out and grabs my arm.
"Emma! What are you doing?" she asks. "Coach hates bathroom breaks during play, you know that."
"I'm not -- I'm not going to the bathroom," I say distractedly, trying to get her to release her iron grip on me. "I have to
leave."
Stella presses her lips together into a tight, thin line. "I should've known."
"I'm sorry. I love volleyball, but this isn't my season. I have nothing to do with this year's team. I came back because I felt like you guys were all counting on me, but you're not." I wave my hand in the direction of the court. "You're all more than fine without me and you have been this whole time. But there's another group of people that does need me, and I'd be kind of a hypocrite if I screwed them over now."
Stella sighs. "You might be right," she says at last, offering me a small smile. "Okay. Go kill 'em or knock 'em dead or break a leg or whatever the heck it is you theater folk say."
"Thanks, Stella," I say, and I mean it. I glance up at the clock and see it's 4:57 p.m. Three minutes to get from The Barn all the way to the auditorium. I might've made it when I was working out everyday, but I've been hitting the pizza more and the gym less these days. "I have to run!" I call out to her as I backpedal toward the door. "Good luck in the game!"
And then I'm out of the gymnasium and sprinting to the locker room to grab my bag.
Technically, all of my costumes are supposed to be in the dressing room, but after I sprinted out of school yesterday still wearing Miss Halpern's crazy petticoat outfit, I'm lucky I remembered to pack it.
I race across the campus, sweat pouring down my forehead, and it's not even like I have to go that far between places. I'd be embarrassed if I hadn't been so focused on getting my butt into the auditorium before 5:01 p.m. I'll worry about whipping myself into shape after the play.
I barge through the heavy oak doors which shriek under the force. "I'm here!" I shout out. "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!"
Several heads swing in my direction. I see Lana first; she's standing on stage, script in hand, talking to no one.
Rehearsing.
And if she's rehearsing with a script, I have no doubt she's going over Miss Halpern's lines.
I smirk.
Better luck next time, Lana.
"Emma Thompson!" Mary screams my name as she gets up off the bench in front of the piano. "Get back into the dressing room and get out of that ridiculous outfit!"
