“No sense of adventure,” he said, shaking his head.
“Fine,” I said, still laughing. “You’re Captain Adventure. Help me up.” I stuck out my hand and the second he leaned over and grasped it, I pulled with everything I had, hoping he was off-balance enough.
He grunted, but the move worked like a charm, bringing him down into the snow. Though as he fell, as if in slow motion, I had a fraction of a second to worry he was going to land on me so I used my momentum from pulling him to roll away, catching a face full of snow as I did.
Despite moving out of his way, he still landed half on me, pushing me deeper into the snowbank. Thankfully, the snow took a lot of the shock from his fall. Still, he was heavy. “Get off me, you giant oaf,” I said, after spitting out what snow hadn’t already melted in my mouth.
“You’re the one who pulled me down, you wicked devil,” he said as he eased off me. I rolled to my back, doing my best to give him a death stare. Which totally would have worked if we both hadn’t burst out laughing just then.
After a few minutes, he lay back and spread his arms out over my head.
“Are you making snow angels?” I asked, twisting my head around so I could see him.
“Yes I am,” he said, making no move to get up. “Here I am doing snow angels with the hottest girl at Rosewood. I’d say that’s pretty adventurous.”
My heart did a lurch and roll at him calling me the hottest girl at Rosewood. I mean, I’d heard it before (ugh, please don’t think I’m conceited for admitting it—I didn’t actually believe it, but I had heard it) but I never expected him to come out with it. Although maybe he was just repeating what his friends had said. And it had to be a joke, because I knew he didn’t think it. That much was obvious.
“Shut up,” I said. “And I’m not a devil.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You’re no angel.”
“Yes I am,” I said, waving my arms through the snow. “I’m a snow angel.”
“Riiiight, because that’s all it takes,” he said, making me laugh.
I rolled toward him and pressed my mittened palm on his chest. While he looked up at me, I pushed down with all my weight to lever myself up, repressing the smile as he grunted under me.
“Ugh, my pants are soaked through. Thanks a lot, jerk.”
“Back at you,” he said, getting to his feet right after me. “At least you can change.”
I screwed up my face at him. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Let’s hurry up and finish this so we can get back inside before we both die of hypothermia.”
Luckily there wasn’t much shoveling left and by the time we’d finished, the snow had stopped so we put away our shovels and headed inside. I sent Abe down to the dining hall to get us some hot drinks and promised I’d meet him in the auditorium after I changed.
As I ran up the stairs to change, I couldn’t help but smile about our little roll in the snow. Abe definitely was a fun guy; too bad he wasn’t eligible for inclusion in my experiment.
~ ♥ ~
“So explain to me what you need me for?” I asked Abe.
I had returned to him in the auditorium and had found him helping Mr. Stratton pack up a bunch of costumes to take to the dry cleaners. Once they’d returned from Mr. Stratton’s car (with hot coffees, thank God) we warmed up a little and then Mr. Stratton begged off, giving Abe a warning look before departing. It was pretty cute that he was so protective, especially since he was only a few years older than Abe.
Anyway, after he’d assured the teacher there would be nothing untoward going on, Abe had set up his props and then went through his routine. Due to it being just a segment in the talent show, it was short—only six minutes—but it left me confused about the role I was to play in it.
I mean, it was good and his tricks were definitely...er...magical, but it wasn’t really clear why he needed an assistant. There was no sawing a girl in half (I have to admit I was relieved about that) no disappearing assistant, no disappearing magician, nothing that really warranted an assistant. Just him and some rings and a few card tricks (albeit impressive ones).
“I need you to hand me stuff and make sure everything’s where it should be. Also you’ll need to distract the audience at the right times. Let’s go through it again.”
“Okay, but I don’t get it. You just did it without help and I was totally dazzled. I don’t think you really need me.”
He took a sip of his coffee and looked away, working his jaw.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Abe?”
“Maybe...” he exhaled and ran his palm over his head, smoothing the hair back to where he had it tied in a ponytail at his neck. “Maybe I need the moral support.”
I snorted at that. “This from the guy whose entire life has been on stage in front of cameras?”
He looked at me, his eyes boring into mine and his signature smile missing. “Not like this. Not with the magic.”
I had kind of thought he was making me do it to punish me for making him do the magic show in the first place, but now, looking at him with his serious face and his intense eyes, I realized he might have started out to punish me, but now it was more about him doing that thing from his childhood that his dad had crapped all over and being a little afraid to do it alone.
Feeling a bit ashamed for making fun of him, I nodded. “Okay, so let’s go through it again.”
He gave me a relieved smile and started his routine again, pointing out the times when I was supposed to distract the audience, which I guess also validated my being there.
“So what are you making me wear?” I asked as I thought about being a distraction.
“Well,” he said. “There aren’t as many ready-made assistant outfits out there as you might expect.”
I snorted at that.
“But,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and started dragging his finger along the screen. “Aha. What do you think of this?”
He held his phone out toward me and I leaned in to look at the photo. It was basically a sexy tuxedo costume complete with corset, short shorts and fishnets. I gave him a withering look.
“It’s uh...” he cringed and went on, but not before he began to blush furiously. “Okay, maybe not quite that sexy.”
“Showy,” I said. “Because there is no way the dean would approve that. I might push the limits sometimes, but she would lose it completely if I wore that.” And anyway, while I didn’t mind showing a bit of asset, that outfit was way too revealing, even for me.
He nodded. “Classy. Not slutty, I promise,” he assured me. “One of the costume designers from my old show promised me he’d make one up for you.”
“Abe, the show is in less than a week.”
He nodded. “I know, but Tino’s retired and he’s happy to do it for me and overnight it here. To be honest, I think he’s bored; he jumped at the opportunity when I called him to ask if it was even possible.”
I shrugged. “Fine. It’s your show.”
“I just need to send him your measurements.”
The smile froze on my face. “What?”
“I need to send him your measurements so he can make the costume for you. I couldn’t just guess and we don’t exactly have time to make alterations,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.
I thought about the giant plate of lasagna I’d had for dinner, complete with garlic bread and a pile of extra grated cheese. Then the bacon I’d had with my breakfast and the chips I’d swiped from Brooklyn’s plate at lunch. And the hamburger and fries from the day before...
Then I had a flashback to my childhood when my mother—the stick—took me to get fitted for my dance recital outfit and both she and the ballet teacher tsked and shook their heads about my ‘baby fat’ and how unbecoming it was on a nine-year old, even one with such a pretty face.
“Uh...we don’t have a tape measure,” I said, my voice a bit shrill as the panic rose in my throat and threatened to
send up the lasagna.
He cheerily pulled one out of his coat pocket. “I grabbed one at the dollar store in town.”
“Well aren’t you resourceful?” I muttered.
“What?” he asked as he stepped toward me. Like he was going to just wrap that measuring tape around my body. Like it was nothing. Like I wouldn’t stab him in the eye if he tried.
“Uh, well, I was thinking...” Think, THINK! I yelled at myself inside my head.
He lifted his eyebrows, waiting.
My eyes drifted around the room and landed on the wardrobe room door. Bingo. “I’m sure we could find something here to use.”
Abe frowned. “Don’t be silly. I’ve got Tino itching to make this for you. He’s already got the fabric.”
Yep, I was definitely going to hurl up lasagna. “What kind of fabric?” I asked, stalling as I tried to figure something out because there was no way this guy was getting a tape measure around me unless I was dead and he was measuring me for a coffin.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Lycra, maybe?”
“Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m allergic to Lycra.”
“You are?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I get hives and all sorts of rashy bumps. That’s not going to work. Why don’t we just look in the...”
“I’ll get him to make it out of something else,” he said, interrupting me.
Of course you will.
“What about cotton?” he asked. “That’s a natural fiber.”
“Oh, cotton’s the worst.” I shivered for effect.
He cocked his head as he looked down at my shirt. “You’re wearing cotton now.”
I looked down at my ugly outfit and had to fight the urge to curse. Now what was I supposed to do?
“Chelly? What’s wrong?”
“What?” I asked, pasting a smile on my face that I hoped didn’t make me look like a possessed scarecrow.
“Why are you being weird?”
Because I hate my body and if you measure me, there will be empirical evidence telling you I’m fat. There will be no denying how ridiculously big my ass is and I will die of embarrassment. But all I said was, “I’m not being weird. Why are you being weird?”
He stuttered for a couple of seconds before I rolled my eyes and said, “Come on, I’m sure we can find something.” I hope. Puh-leeeeeeeeze let there be something in the wardrobe room.
“But...”
Ignoring him, I turned away and went to the wardrobe room door, knowing he’d follow. I really did hope we could find something suitable, but I had no idea.
I looked around the room and checked some of the trunks in the back that were thankfully labeled with past productions. I dismissed all the Shakespeare ones, because there was no way I could be an assistant in a heavy, floor-length gown made from grandma’s drapes.
“Chelly,” Abe said from behind me. “Why...”
He wasn’t going to let up and I guess I couldn’t blame him if he had some Hollywood costume designer on the hook to sew me some sort of one-of-a-kind couture outfit, but...
I turned around and did a big sigh. “Fine. Here’s the thing. Emmie is so into recycling and everything and I know she’d want me to repurpose something. Rather than have something made.”
Abe narrowed his green eyes and paused for a long moment while I mentally crossed my fingers. “But, that makes no sense; it’s not like these costumes are going into landfill or something, I mean...” he stopped talking because by this time, I was glaring at him.
“I will find something. Can you give it a chance, please?” I said, sounding a little bit like Satan even to my own ears. Obviously to him too, because he just nodded at me, his eyes wide and slightly terrified. He even backed up half a step like I was an angry badger. Which fit, since I kind of felt like a cornered animal.
“Thank you,” I said and turned back to the trunks, scanning the labels until... “Oh, there it is!”
I swiveled back toward him. “Can you help me pull this one down?”
His terror forgotten for the moment, he stepped forward and grabbed the end of the trunk marked “Chicago” and together we lifted it down to the floor. Squatting down, I unlatched it and pushed open the lid to reveal several layers of tissue paper which I pulled back.
“Oh,” came out of my mouth as we were faced with what appeared to be a trunk full of black, silver and gold sequins and fringe. I pulled out the top dress and held it up. “Wow. Look at this.”
Abe whistled. The dress was black and sequined and made me think “little black dress” but with more flair, thanks to the sequins. It didn’t have much of a waist and was a bit longer than what you might think a little black dress should be, but, I reminded myself, these outfits were all dean-approved, so they were going to be a bit more modest than ones used in movies or on Broadway.
Dean-approved suited my purposes here, though. “What about this one?” I said, figuring with the assistance of some serious Spanx, I could probably fit into it and maybe even be able to move.
He screwed up his face. “Too...flappery.”
That wasn’t a good sign; probably all the dresses would have that flapper look.
“It’s kind of shapeless.”
He was right, but that was sort of what I liked about it. But without another word, I pulled out the next dress, another black one with sequins, but this one had a bit more shape. It was fairly short, but had a long fringe on the hem that would cover a lot of thigh while still being pretty sexy.
I held it up toward him. “This one?”
He leaned back and cocked his head as he took it in, his brow furrowed as he seemed to evaluate the dress very critically. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”
I eyed the dress and figured it was probably close to my size. “I can try it on, if that would help.”
His eyes shifted from the dress to me. “That’s probably a good idea.”
I stared at him when he didn’t move.
He frowned. “What?”
“I’m not getting undressed with you in here,” I said, thinking it should have been obvious.
“Oh, right,” he said, jumping to his feet.
I followed him to the door because while he was a nice guy and all and I knew he wasn’t angling to see me mostly naked, I still liked the idea of a locked door between us. I turned the lock on the knob and gave it a jiggle, just to be sure. “I’ll just be a second,” I said through the door as I began to get undressed as quickly as I could. Once I was down to my bra and underwear (and socks, but I wasn’t about to take those off—it was drafty in the wardrobe room) I slipped the dress on over my head and pulled it down. It was a bit snug, but with Spanx it would look good and hug my hips. The only problem was the part over my chest—whoever this dress had been made for must have been seriously stacked. And it was strapless, which meant strapless bra. I wasn’t too worried that I could work it out so for now, I tucked the top hem of the bodice into the tops of my bra and went over to the big full-length mirror to have a look.
“Me likey,” I said to my reflection as I turned to the side and watched the fringe as it swished around my legs.
“Chelly?” Abe said through the door as he knocked. “I have to sign out in ten minutes. Can you move it along in there?”
I gave myself one last look, making sure everything was in place and went over to open the door, standing back so he could take in the dress on a live model.
He did a slow sweep of his eyes down my body in a way that—if it had been any other guy—I might have thought he was checking me out in the dress, not just checking out the dress on me. But this was Abe.
“Well?” I asked.
“Uh, nice socks,” he said with a chuckle, his eyes trained on my feet.
I looked down at my rainbow toe-socks that probably looked ridiculous, but that I loved. Plus, they were a Christmas gift from my brother the year he was in the hospital, so they were extra-special, even with the holes in them. “Thanks,” I said.<
br />
He looked back up at my face and gave me a goofy smile.
He was cute and I could definitely see what the girls had been talking about. But I pushed that thought out of my head and tapped my foot impatiently. “So. The dress?”
“Right. Of course. I think it looks good, except I feel like it needs a little something more.” He screwed up his face and looked up toward the ceiling as he thought.
“You meant the socks don’t complete the outfit?” I asked.
He grinned. “Not exactly.”
“Wait,” I said. “Give me your phone for a second.”
He gave me a look but without a word pulled out his phone, unlocked it and handed it over.
I did a quick search and when I found what I was looking for, showed it to him.
He looked from the phone to me, his lips spreading into a grin. “Perfect.”
~ ♥ ~
I pushed him out the door so I could change out of the dress and then returned the other one to the trunk, folding it carefully and replacing the tissue on top. As I closed up the trunk, I made a mental note to let Kaylee know I’d borrowed the dress but would be sure to return it after the talent show—I knew she wouldn’t mind as long as I was careful with it.
Making sure I had the keys, I threw the dress over my shoulder and locked up the wardrobe room behind me. Abe was out on the stage, zipping up his backpack.
“Hey,” I said as I approached him. “I’ll walk you out.”
He nodded and swung the bag up and onto his big shoulders. “Thanks for this,” he said. “I know I sort of forced you into it.”
I shrugged as we made our way down the few stairs to the back stage door. “As much as I forced you into doing the magic show in the first place.” He fell in behind me as the little hallway narrowed.
“Touché,” he said. “Still. You’re being a good sport and I appreciate it.”
I reached for the door. “Yeah, well, it’ll give me a chance to wear something other than hobo clothes so I can hook me a dude.”
I don’t know why I said that last bit, but he didn’t respond so I looked over my shoulder at him. He was frowning at me, making me think I had offended him somehow, but I hadn’t said anything about him, so... “What?”
Acting Out Page 7
