On their way to drama, Janelle asked Chelsea if she would’ve run for homecoming queen if her dad’s wedding hadn’t been a factor.
“You want the truth?”
“Of course,” Janelle said.
“I’m so relieved that it’s not an option. I’d rather walk over hot coals than run against Riley. That girl hates me.”
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it.”
“Because of Dayton?”
“I know it makes no sense. According to Dayton, Riley broke up with him. But I have a feeling there’s more to the story.” She paused by the door to the auditorium.
“There’s always more to the story.”
As they went backstage, Chelsea asked Janelle how she was enjoying doing makeup. “Are you okay with it?” She lowered her voice. “I know you wanted a part in the play.”
“It’s only fair. I’ve gotten so many roles in the past . . . it’s my turn to do makeup. And I’m actually getting pretty good at it. I can’t wait to try some cherry-red lipstick on you.”
Chelsea laughed. “As long as you make me look like Bette Davis, I won’t complain.”
“I love that we’re going with the forties style. So much more dramatic.”
“Speaking of dramatic,” Mr. Valotti said loudly, “let’s get to work, class.” He clapped his hands and called them to their places, and they picked up where they’d left off yesterday. There was no place at school where Chelsea felt as comfortable as she did on the stage. Accustomed to acting—wasn’t that all she did?—she liked the freedom of stepping into a different character and forgetting all about her own life. In fact, she was getting so comfortable with it that she wasn’t even too bothered by Mr. Valotti’s “friendliness” toward her. Like so many other things, she was beginning to take it in stride. And when he asked her and a couple of others to stay after school, she didn’t feel the least bit concerned.
“I don’t like this,” Janelle told her as they left the auditorium.
“What?”
Janelle started going on about Mr. Valotti’s reputation and how she didn’t trust his motives.
“I think he’s just the flirty-friendly type,” Chelsea said to reassure her. “Like the dogs that are all bark and no bite, he’s harmless.”
“I think he’s lulled you into believing he’s harmless.”
“Janelle!” Chelsea frowned at her.
“Excuse me for caring about my friend.”
Chelsea softened. “I’m glad you care about me, Janelle. So what do you suggest I do?”
Janelle’s brow creased. “I’ll ask my mom to pick us up, and I’ll come with you after school. I’ll hang out behind the scenes just to be sure he doesn’t try anything untoward.”
“ ‘Untoward’?” Chelsea chuckled. “Only you would use a word like that.” She used her hands to measure the height difference between herself and her petite friend. “My personal mini bodyguard. Man, I feel so safe.”
“Hey, I might be small, but I have a big set of lungs and I’m not afraid to use them.”
Chelsea laughed. “Whatever trips your trigger.”
After school, Janelle and Chelsea headed back to the auditorium. As planned, Janelle faded into the scenery and Chelsea waited along the sidelines for her turn to practice her scene. Mr. Valotti finished coaching some of the actors, then excused them. He called up Archer Davis, the guy playing the starring role of the cantankerous Sheridan Whiteside, and Chelsea, who was playing Sheridan’s secretary. Mr. Valotti gave them some direction, then told them to begin the scene. After a few do-overs, Mr. Valotti seemed satisfied with Archer’s performance.
“That was fine,” he told Archer. “Just make sure you work on that pratfall. You need to get it down so that you don’t actually break your leg.” They laughed, and Mr. Valotti excused Archer, then turned to Chelsea. “I’d like to go over the scene where Maggie meets Bert.”
“But Tyler’s not here,” Chelsea said. Tyler was playing the small-town journalist Bert, Maggie’s love interest.
“I’ll read his part.” Mr. Valotti leaned close to her, reaching across to point at a spot on her script. “Go ahead and start here.”
Feeling a bit uneasy but thankful that Janelle was nearby—she was, wasn’t she?—Chelsea began to read. It wasn’t exactly a steamy scene since Maggie and Bert had only just met. But Mr. Valotti seemed to be taking every opportunity to make it into something more.
“You need to turn up the heat,” he told her. “The audience needs to feel the chemistry between Maggie and Bert. You want them to be hooked, anticipating the romance that’s coming. So as you read that line, look deeply into Bert’s eyes with longing, as if you’re seeing the man of your dreams. Can you do that?”
Chelsea swallowed hard. “I think so.”
Standing uncomfortably close to her, he read Bert’s line, then waited. She took a quick breath and looked directly into Mr. Valotti’s eyes. Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she repeated the next line. But her heart was pounding hard, and something about this felt all wrong . . . and scary.
“That was a little bit better, but I think we need to try it—”
“Hey, Chelsea,” Janelle called in an offhand way as she came onstage. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were still practicing.” She stopped on the sidelines, lowering her voice. “I’ll just wait for you here—quiet as a mouse.”
Mr. Valotti stepped away from Chelsea and his expression changed. But without missing a beat, he read the next line, and then Chelsea read hers. Following his direction, she continued looking “deeply” into his eyes. But she could tell this was making him uncomfortable now, and for some reason that was satisfying to her. She wanted to make him squirm. Finally he proclaimed practice done, said he’d see them later, and left the stage.
Without speaking, Chelsea tossed Janelle a grateful glance and gathered up her things, and the two of them quickly exited the auditorium. It wasn’t until they were safely away from there that Chelsea admitted that Janelle had been right.
“I don’t think I was imagining that,” she said in a hushed voice. “He was coming on to me. I could feel it. And when you showed up, he acted differently.”
“I know.” Janelle nodded soberly. “It was freaky to see. I should’ve popped in sooner, but I was curious as to how far he’d take it.”
“Thanks a lot.” Chelsea frowned. “I feel like I was your social science experiment.”
“Hey, I would’ve jumped in if I needed to.” Janelle sighed. “I think I almost wished he’d stepped over the line. Then we could get him fired.”
“That seems a little harsh.”
“Really?” Janelle turned and looked intently at Chelsea. “What if he has actually taken it further with other girls? You know what I mean. Would you want to protect him then?”
“No.” Chelsea firmly shook her head. “You’re right.”
“Promise me, Chelsea, if Valotti ever tries anything, you know, seriously, that you’ll tell on him, okay?”
Chelsea held up her hand like a pledge. “Absolutely. I promise.”
“These guys should start a club.”
“A club?” Chelsea was confused.
“A jerk club. Guys like Valotti and Dayton and even Chase could all be card-carrying jerks.”
“It seems unfair to classify Dayton and Chase in that club,” Chelsea said.
“Give them both time, or opportunity, and they’ll prove themselves worthy of the title.”
“Does that mean you’ve given up on Chase?” Chelsea asked as they went outside to wait for Janelle’s mom.
Janelle gave a loud, exasperated sigh. “When I see Chase drooling over you . . . what am I supposed to do?”
Chelsea studied Janelle as they sat on the steps. As usual of late, Janelle’s hair was pulled back in a drab-looking ponytail, and her face was pretty much devoid of makeup. Even her outfit was kind of ho-hum. Chelsea would never say this out loud, but Janelle seemed to have given up—she se
emed content to be dowdy. Unfortunately, she seemed so glum right now that Chelsea didn’t have the heart to point this out. But seriously, how did Janelle hope to catch Chase’s eye looking like that?
“And you can’t exactly lecture me on not giving up on a guy.” Janelle gave Chelsea an accusing look.
“What do you mean?” Chelsea knew what she meant, but she hoped if she stalled long enough, Janelle’s mom would show up and this conversation would be shelved.
“You know exactly what and who I mean. I still see you looking at Nicholas sometimes—in the exact same way Valotti was trying to get you to look at him.”
Chelsea was shocked. “Really? It’s that obvious?”
“To me it is. And I’ll bet Dayton’s noticed it too. Especially since he seems to have taken a real dislike to Nicholas. Have you noticed that?”
“Now that you mention it . . .” Chelsea slowly shook her head as this sank in. “But it’s totally ridiculous. Not only does Nicholas act like I don’t exist, he actually seems to despise me. And it’s not that I’m into Dayton, but he seriously has nothing to be jealous of when it comes to Nicholas Prague.”
“But you wish he did.”
Chelsea brushed a piece of lint from her jeans and shrugged.
“I know you do.” Janelle lowered her voice, like she thought someone might be listening. “And so does Lishia.”
Chelsea blinked. “Lishia likes Nicholas?”
“She’s been in love with him for a couple of years now.”
“Does he like her?”
“He used to. But that was a long time ago. Like middle school. But she can’t seem to get over him.”
Chelsea wouldn’t admit it, but she could relate.
“Want to know my theory?”
She shrugged. “I guess I might as well since it seems your mother has forgotten us.”
“I think Nicholas is afraid of you.”
“Huh?”
“You’re too pretty, Chelsea.”
Chelsea laughed. “Yeah, right. Tell me another one.”
Janelle shook her finger at her. “You are! Your stepmom-to-be did too good a job on you. You’re the kind of girl who turns heads. Just think of how Valotti was coming on to you, the way Dayton wants to own you body and soul, and how Chase can’t keep his eyes off you. That’s just to name a few.”
“And what does that have to do with Nicholas?”
“I think that, in the same way you attract guys who are jerks, you repel the guys who aren’t—at least the ones who are trying not to be jerks.”
“That’s nuts.”
“No, it’s not. Think about it. Nicholas recommitted his life to God. He’s trying to make better choices in all areas of his life. Why would he want to risk it all by getting involved with a hot babe like you?”
“That’s ridiculous.” But even as she said this, Chelsea wasn’t so sure.
“No, it isn’t. In fact, I heard Nicholas say something to Chase that backs up my theory. He told Chase that if he kept going after the wrong kind of girl, he’d seriously regret it later.”
“The wrong kind of girl?” Chelsea frowned. “As in me?”
Janelle just nodded.
“Wow, that’s pretty judgmental.”
“Yeah, it seemed unfair.”
Chelsea was trying to grasp this, and she was also trying not to get angry. But it was frustrating—very frustrating! “So what am I supposed to do, Janelle? Do I turn myself back into the drab wallflower I used to be?” She pointed at her friend. “Like you?”
Janelle looked surprised.
“No offense, Janelle, but you have been letting yourself go. I mean, you started out strong at the beginning of school, but then it’s like you gave up.”
“Gave up?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Since you’re so good at telling me the truth, I figured I should be able to speak honestly with you. Right?”
Janelle’s mom’s car pulled up then, but both girls just stared at each other for a long moment. Chelsea knew she’d pushed things too far this time. But how was it fair for Janelle to speak her mind and put down Chelsea, while Chelsea was supposed to keep her opinions to herself?
Still, she regretted her words as they rode home in silence. Mrs. Parker attempted some small talk but finally gave up. Chelsea wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Janelle was the best friend she had—she’d come to Chelsea’s rescue with Mr. Valotti. And this was how Chelsea thanked her?
Chelsea called Janelle later that night and profusely apologized. “I don’t know what came over me or why I said all that,” she explained. “I think I was just really frustrated. Please forgive me, Janelle.”
“I already did.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. God says he forgives us, so in the same way we should forgive others.”
“Wow. I guess I should keep that in mind.”
“I was actually thinking about the whole thing . . . and I’ve got an idea.”
“An idea?”
“Yeah. You want to come over so we can discuss it?”
“Discuss it?” Chelsea wondered what kind of an idea Janelle could possibly have in mind. “Okay.”
Chelsea had been in Janelle’s bedroom a few times, but she was still mesmerized by all the old movie posters and theater memorabilia. It was like a drama shrine. Even Janelle’s mirror, rimmed with light bulbs, was theatrical looking. It seemed that everywhere Chelsea looked, boas and necklaces and other kinds of costume accessories and props were hanging. Chelsea loved being in this space, and during the time that Lishia had pushed her out, she’d missed it.
“So . . .” Chelsea sat on the edge of Janelle’s bed. “What’s your big idea?”
Janelle held up a flyer about a youth group camp that was coming up the week after Dad’s wedding. “Fall camp.”
“Yeah, I know about that.”
“I have a plan.”
“A plan?”
Janelle began talking about drama and some tricks she’d been learning about theatrical makeup and how it was possible to disguise someone so that they were totally unrecognizable.
“Uh-huh.” Chelsea put a hot pink boa around her neck. “And your point is what?”
“We’ll make you into a plain Jane.”
Chelsea stared at her. “Huh?”
“We’ll use a wig and makeup and some drab clothes, maybe even a pair of glasses, and we’ll make you into a plain Jane.”
Chelsea was still confused. “And why would we want to do that?”
“It’ll be a test.”
“What kind of a test?”
“To see what Nicholas will do.”
“I’m still lost.”
“Well, you want to get Nick’s attention, right?”
Chelsea shrugged.
“If we transform you into a plain Jane, we can give you a different name and a new identity, and maybe you can get to know him and find out if you two really jive, because he’ll have no excuse not to—”
“Yes!” Chelsea stood. “I do get it. Kind of like Eliza Doolittle, only backward. Or sort of.” She looked at herself in Janelle’s mirror. “But you don’t have to make me ugly, do you?” She didn’t like to think she was shallow, but she wasn’t sure she could go back to that . . . not even for a weekend.
“No. Not ugly. Just plain. We’ll simply remove the jerk magnet persona.” Janelle stepped next to her, then frowned. “We’ll make you look more like someone . . . someone like . . . well, like me.”
A light went on in Chelsea’s head, and she pointed at Janelle’s reflection. “And we can make you look more like me!”
“What?”
“Yes!” She turned to face Janelle. “We’ll give you the wow factor so that you turn heads, and we’ll see if you can catch Chase’s attention.”
“Oh . . . I don’t know.” Janelle looked worried.
“Come on, Janelle, if I’m willing to do this, you should be too.”
“But what’s the point of pretend
ing to be what I’m not to get Chase to look at me?”
“I could say the same to you about me. But this is an experiment, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m not doing it unless you’re doing it.”
Janelle cracked a smile. “It could be pretty hilarious.”
“Not to mention revealing.”
“I haven’t figured out all the details yet.”
“But I’m sure you will. And I’ll help you.”
“I know you have your dad’s wedding next weekend. But that still gives us this weekend to pull something together. Do you really want to do this?”
Chelsea laughed. “Why not?”
They shook hands and immediately began to plan. Janelle would have to get a blonde wig. “At least as long as my hair,” Chelsea told her. “And how about wearing some heels to make you seem taller? We don’t want your height to give you away.”
“Good point.” Janelle made some notes. “We have to do everything possible to keep from getting found out.”
“That would be so embarrassing.”
“And we need to give ourselves new names and new profiles, and we’ll need to remember what they are for each other too—unless we want to pretend like we’ve just met and got stuck in the same room together.”
“That might be simpler.”
“We can say we’re from one of the other schools since there are about six different youth groups that attend fall camp.” Janelle pressed her lips together. “I’ll try to figure out some way to get us a room to ourselves. Usually there are four to a room . . . but sometimes there are exceptions, like if there’s a health concern or some other reason. I’ll try to think of a believable excuse.”
“Like what?” Chelsea frowned.
“Maybe one of us has a mental issue.” Janelle giggled. “Some kind of weird phobia or a snoring disorder or body odor problem. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something good and sympathetic too.”
Chelsea felt concerned. “Do you think it’s wrong to do this?”
“It’s an experiment,” Janelle assured her. “A social experiment. Who knows, we might be able to use this for school. We could write a paper on it.”
Jerk Magnet, The (Life at Kingston High Book #1) Page 13
