Phillip opened the back door for me and squeezed my arm as I got in. “I’ll get them both home,” he promised. “Sorry,” he said one last time to the officer as he walked to the driver’s side. The police officer finally turned off his revolving light as Phillip started the engine. Silence reigned in the car. I was too shaken and humiliated for conversation.
After two quiet minutes Phillip was the first to speak. “So that didn’t go exactly as planned.” He inhaled in a loud hiss, letting the sound snake through the car.
Charlotte broke out of her stupor. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice crawled from her lips before expanding in the charged air. “This night is completely unforgettable. A standing ovation. The graveyard. Two squad cars!”
Phillip’s face brightened. “I thought you were going to say something about the kiss.”
Charlotte laughed and turned back to me. “Your crying bit was awesome, Megan. Did you see that cop’s face? He totally believed you. You are why he was so nice to us.”
A strangled croak squeaked from my throat. “No problem,” I sighed, my eyes still sore from the salt. I laid my head against the icy window and let the streaking snow blur in the lights of the highway. I realized more than ever that people would see what they decided to see.
I tried to apologize when we delivered Charlotte to her house, but Melissa waved away my explanation. “It’s fine,” she promised as she hopped from one slippered foot to the other in the gathering snow on the driveway. “I know why you were there.” She tucked Charlotte beneath her arm and took her inside, the porch light reflecting off the surrender in Melissa’s eyes. Probably a good thing Charlotte had a live-in therapist.
When Phillip pulled up to my house no one was standing sentinel to open the front door anxiously. I sat next to him, his hand on the stick shift looked foreign to me now that I knew it was the hand of Charlotte’s boyfriend.
“When was the first kiss?” I asked him quietly.
He bit down on his cheek, sharpening the lines of his face. “It was the last night of the campout when we were in the hammock.”
“When you ran away?”
He nodded and turned to me, shame and innocence strange dance partners on his face. “I tried so hard not to, Megan. I haven’t done it since. I just never felt this way.”
Between the lungs is an empty spot, a vacuum that aches in blackness. I felt the weight of it, as dense as the iron of the black cemetery gates. It was a selfish question that brought the pain: why could Charlotte break through Phillip’s defenses but I couldn’t breach Braden’s?
“Are you sad?” Phillip asked. “You always said you didn’t like me.”
“I always said I didn’t love you. Romantically. And I don’t. I’m sad about other things. Like looking at my parents and telling them why I was detained by the police tonight.”
He nodded sympathetically. “But in all honesty, it’s gonna be a pretty good story, right?”
I opened my door, the icy wind jumping into the warm interior. “You’re probably right. Thanks, Phillip.” I waved good night to him, watching his face through the frosted windshield. He looked different now that he didn’t belong to me. Possession, or lack of it, changes everything. The front door was unlocked and swung open with a creak when I pushed. The glow of the table lamp in the living room beckoned. They would be waiting for me there. I shuffled slowly, hoping they would be as merciful as Melissa. When I peered around the doorway I saw my father, alone, half of his body in deep shadow and the other half in the yellow circle of lamp light. He leaned forward, his chin resting on his templed fingers, not even a book or television to pass the time.
“Dad?” The single word said so much more. What are you thinking? Are you mad?
The only things that moved were his eyes as they scanned my frightened face. “Your mother thought I should talk to you first,” he explained as I searched the room for her. “Are you okay?” His tone was steady, unreadable.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. I took a small step forward, wanting to touch his chin when it shook almost imperceptibly. Had I made my father cry?
“So.” His voice swelled, cut off quickly under the heavy word. And then his chin shook again, made my fingers do the same thing. But it wasn’t shaking with the emotion I thought. An irrepressible grin grappled its way to his struggling lips. “So you finally made some trouble?”
My blood pounded into my empty stomach, but the amusement in his eyes held steady, waited for me to believe him. As soon I understood I rushed toward the safety of his smile, feeling it the same way I felt the heat of the spotlight from two hundred feet away, the way I could feel the speed of the stars as they dropped from the sky. I lowered myself into his warm arms, curling up next to him like I was seven instead of seventeen. The cold snow, the shadowed graveyard, the flashing lights, the locked door beneath Braden’s hand, Phillip’s kiss landing on Charlotte’s lips all shook out of me as I laughed against his shoulder.
“You have no idea.”
CHAPTER 36
“You told them everything?” Phillip followed me into the girls’ dressing room backstage while the entire cast surged out to meet the waiting audience after the closing performance.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I told him as I grabbed a Kleenex to wipe off my brow lines. He joined me at the mirror, scrubbing viciously at his face. “Just the makeup, not your skin,” I reminded him.
“I hate this stuff. Are they really not mad you? Perfect Megan snuck out for a weekend with me and they still aren’t mad at you?”
“I didn’t go with you. I went with Charlotte. And since I made you behave while a beautiful girl went skinny dipping and kept you both out of trouble, then no, they’re not mad at me. They might be mad at you though. I think my dad is going to give you a talk.”
“Great. That’s just great. What is it going to take to get you in serious trouble?” He winced when he blinked. He’d scrubbed his eyelid too hard.
“You are a terrible friend.” I took a wet wipe and gently smoothed it over his face. It was a blur of brown and black and red when I finished. “There. You look as rugged and masculine as usual. But you’re still in the girls’ dressing room.”
“You were awesome tonight,” he told me as he backed toward the door, anxious for the glory waiting for him in the hallway.
“As good as Charlotte?” I’m not exactly sure why I asked.
His eyes squinted at my half-clean face. “Don’t fish. You know you’re better. You and I might not belong together anywhere else, but we belong together on that stage.” He said it with such assurance I was surprised when he paused and asked, “Right?”
I let the wet cloth hide my smile as I wiped off the red lipstick. “Definitely.”
“Are you coming?” he asked as he held the door open.
“In a minute,” I promised.
When the door closed it muffled the din of almost seven hundred people crowded body to body, each trying to speak above the noise of the others. I looked into the mirror, my face rubbed clean and pink, glowing with the applause like each clap was a star I collected and let melt into my skin. “Good job, Megan,” I said quietly. There was a tight vibration in my body, stringing across my limbs and spine. I sat straight and poised, closed my eyes to concentrate on the sensation. It was happiness. Moving and singing along every nerve. When I realized it, I dropped my head into my arms to hide the giddy sound that escaped my mouth. If I could have melted the snow and the distance and pulled the hot sun back into the sky and made my feet stand at the edge of the river right at that moment, I would have jumped in with Charlotte. I would have jumped farther.
Someone knocked on the door and I swiveled toward it, composed myself. “Yes?”
“Megan?” My mother’s voice broke through the door as she cracked it open. “Phil said you were still getting cleaned up. Everyone’s waiting for you.” When she saw I was decent she held the door open for my Dad and Lauren.
My father held a small black box tied with
a red ribbon. “For our star,” he said as I met them at the door. “You brought down the house tonight.” I lifted the lid and saw a golden star charm strung on a thin chain. “We couldn’t find a falling one,” he said drily. “Or a hammock.”
“This is perfect. Thank you,” I told him as he gave my neck a small squeeze.
“And this one is from me and mom,” Lauren said, presenting another small box. She is horrible at surprises. Because of her smirk I opened it carefully, just in case something flew out at me. She started laughing before I even saw what lay on the soft white cotton inside.
A tiny pair of silver handcuffs.
“Oh, you’re all adorable,” I told them, slamming the lid shut. “It’s very cute, but flowers are customary. I have to go now.” I turned, but their hugs pulled me back.
When I looked up, Charlotte stood in the shadows of the backstage, watching. “I was looking for you,” she said when our eyes met. “I wanted to tell you that you did great.”
I didn’t move; I just opened my arms in invitation. She took slow steps before she let my family fold around her. “Thank you,” I told her.
“I thought she was even better than the first night,” Lauren announced after we separated.
“Maybe almost getting arrested brought her to a new emotional level,” Charlotte offered, her mouth pinched against a sly smile.
“Very funny,” I told her. “I wasn’t arrested. If you two mention that when people are around I will savagely murder you both.”
“Did you hear that, Charlotte?” Lauren gasped. “Savagely murder us?”
“Murder, I was prepared for. I didn’t realize it would be savage,” Charlotte answered.
My father laughed and pushed them both toward the exit. “I’ll do my best to protect you. We need to go. People are waiting for Megan.”
I followed them toward the dizzy racket of the hallway. As soon as the door opened the noise and colors rushed around me. Two sophomore girls handed me pink roses. A freshman dropped a bag of gummy bears into my hand and retreated before I could thank her. Most of my teachers were there, greeting my parents, congratulating them on my performance.
“She did not!” Lauren whispered beside me. Taylor had come to greet her fans still dressed in her negligee costume.
Phillip reached us just in time to overhear. “It’s just a dress.” He smirked at the crowd of boys gathering in a tight circle around her.
“Then why are you still staring?” Lauren asked.
“Yes, Phillip,” Charlotte’s voice cut in from behind us. “Why exactly are you staring?”
“Staring? I wasn’t staring. I was looking for you. You look amazing.”
Charlotte was wearing black yoga pants and a black sweatshirt. A black handkerchief was knotted around her messy hair and she gave Phillip a glare reminiscent of the first time she met him.
Good for you, I thought with pride.
I said thank you countless times as the crowd slipped past me, dropping compliments, but my eyes scanned for one face. I found him where I should have looked first. In the recessed doorway that led into the auditorium. He was alone and patient, a solid island in the middle of the churning sea of faces.
“Could you hold these for me?” I asked Lauren. As soon as I transferred my flowers and gift boxes to her arms I regretted it. I hadn’t realized the soft petals felt like armor in front me until they were gone. There’s nothing worse than empty hands when you stand in front of a quiet person. I broke through the current of bodies until I reached him. The volume of the room weakened as if he had slid a fader down on his control board.
He held out a small bundle of white tulips. They were tied with a light blue ribbon. I waited for words but they didn’t come. When the flowers were safe in my hand, their stalks cold and smooth against my palm, I told him thank you, the phrase trite and used on my tongue.
“Megan?” he asked. I pressed my lips together nervously, wondering what he was about to confess and what I would say. “Have you ever skipped rocks?” he finished.
“Pardon?”
“Like just skipped rocks. For fun.” Now his hands were the empty ones; they fidgeted against his pockets.
“As in jump from rock to rock?” I pictured the huge boulders strewn across the river.
He laughed and shook his head. “No. Like you throw rocks onto water and they…skip.” He pantomimed tossing a rock into a river. “Please don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
His smile was so embarrassed, so desperate, so amused I laughed and grabbed his hand, covering my mouth with my other fingers. “I know what you’re talking about now. I don’t know why we’re talking about it.” He laughed too, our locked hands swinging like a bridge between us, waiting for one of us to cross.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime and skip rocks. Not to be a cheap date. We could get dinner. It’s just…fun.” Not only did his hand not release, his finger slid a millimeter down mine and every nerve in my arm registered the touch. Softly, he extracted his fingers and waited for my answer.
“Yeah.” There were witty jokes to make, coy glances to give, but the shock of his honest invitation, his unapologetic touch wiped them all away. I looked down at the tulips, their petals just opening at the tips to reveal their dark recesses. He said ’date.’
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah. That’d be…fun.”
He chuckled at the awkwardness, and I waited for his next line. “This was the best night of the play. I’m glad you got your voice back.” He winked without closing his eye, just a flash of a joke whipping through the blue and disappearing again.
My eyes roamed over the graceful curves of the tulips, stopped to look at my fingertips as they traced the shape of one of the stems. Instead of the green stalk, I still felt the hot touch of his brave fingers. Maybe we had both found our voices.
CHAPTER 37
I was still buried in my covers Sunday morning, trying to convince myself to get up and shower away the remnants of the thick makeup and nervous sweat from the last performance when the phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number so I turned my head away, yawning.
Feet padded down the hallway, stopped at my door before my mother peeked her head. “You up?” Her wet hair was wrapped in a towel and she held out the telephone. “There’s a boy named Braden on the phone. And we leave for church in one hour.”
I sat up, throwing back my comforter, still dizzy from the late hours at the cast party. “Hello?” I asked in surprise as I took the phone.
“Morning.” His voice was odd over the phone, canned and nervous. “I was wondering if you wanted to go skip rocks today.”
“Today? In the snow?” I smoothed down my hair and straightened my t-shirt as if he could see me.
“It’s supposed to get up to forty degrees this afternoon and I know this good place.”
When he asked last night it felt like a rhetorical question—How are you? Do you want to skip rocks?
“You know a good place?” I asked. “Braden,” my voice smiled along with my mouth. “Is this where you take all your girls?”
“Huh?” His voice was baffled. “No. I’ve never taken anyone.”
So much for flirting. But this disarming honesty was better. “I was kidding. I’d love to go. I’ll be home from church at noon.”
“Then can I come get you at 2:30? If that’s all right.”
I told him my address and wandered into the hallway on my way to the bathroom.
“What’s up, buttercup?” my dad asked, already in his white shirt with his tie draped over one shoulder.
“I think I’m going on a date.” I asked him more than told him, wondering if saying it out loud would make it less surreal. It didn’t.
“A date? When? Who’s the lucky guy?”
I leaned against the wall, trying to take all my memories of the woods and replace Phillip and Charlotte with Braden. It wasn’t working. “He’s the technical director for the plays.
And he’s taking me to skip rocks. Today.”
“Skip rocks?” My dad’s silk tie slithered from his fingers and fell like a striped snake on the floor.
“That’s weird, right? To just skip rocks?” I retrieved his tie and handed it to him, wondering if I regretted saying yes. “Does that count as a date?”
“Is he a nice boy?”
I could almost smell the tulips I had carried in a mason jar to my bedside table. All the other flowers were in a huge vase in the kitchen. “I don’t know him well, but I think he might be the nicest person I know.”
“Then I say give it a chance. After all, you’re quite the naturalist now.” He swatted me with his tie before I could duck into the bathroom. “Don’t roll your eyes,” he teased from behind the closed door.
“Too late.” When I spun around to the mirror, the girl watching me grinned with anticipation. She was happy about something.
She was still grinning when Braden pulled up the driveway at 2:28. Lauren was peeking through the edge of the dining room curtains.
“I can’t really see him,” she complained.
“Don’t spy. He’s just a boy. Two ears, two eyes.”
“Oh, you didn’t tell me he had two eyes. Maybe we should call this off,” my father said as he crept behind Lauren to take a look. “Are we getting a formal introduction?”
“Please no.” I zipped up my coat and felt in my pocket to be sure my gloves were there. “I don’t even know if it’s worth an introduction. I’ll just go out there.”
“Why isn’t he getting out?” Lauren asked.
Braden’s head was bent toward his lap, occasionally glancing up at the front of the house. “Maybe he’s texting someone.”
“Oh, please tell me he’s not one of those texting people,” my mother said as she joined us. “It’s so tacky.” My mother has always had an archaic and beautiful love for conversation. I smiled at her genuine dismay.
“I don’t know his texting habits or anything else. I’ve never spoken to him for more than five minutes in my life.” I pulled my mother backward because she had inched the curtain back too far. “He will see you people. Why isn’t he getting out?”
The Truth About Fragile Things Page 24
