Stage Kissed, Page 4

  I nod and remember I told myself to actually speak instead of pantomime. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

  “Thanks again. You know, for the jump, and the reminder. You rock.”

  She puts her fist out and I wrap my fingers around it and shake. I’m pretty sure that’s not how this interaction goes, but she runs with it.

  “Later!” she calls out her window before she drives off.

  Wow. I made it through another conversation with Kate Ryan. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but getting noticed is by itself a big deal. I won’t read too much into it, since Kate talks with everyone. But perhaps I’m getting over this social phobia I have.

  And she kept my hoodie. I wonder when she gives it back—if she gives it back—if it’ll smell like Gatorade.

  “Tanya? Hi, yeah, it’s Kate.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to thwart the headache coming on as I talk into my cell. “I had every intention of calling you last night, but completely spaced.” I twist so my back is against a stranger’s locker. “Could you cover my shift tonight? I forgot auditions for the school musical were today until yesterday when I was talking to a friend and he reminded me. I figure you could come in for the extra hours before your actual shift starts. Please?” I say the last bit with a forced smile, knowing it will make my voice sound more relaxed.

  “You will?” I jump away from the locker and fist-pump the air. I hear some classmates giggling over my response. “Tanya, you’re the best. I owe you big time. The next smoothie’s on me.” We’re both laughing as I hang up.

  One problem down, a few thousand more to go.

  I sprint to the gym because Coach has made it mandatory that everyone on the team shoot thirty free throws after school. So not only do we have practice every morning, but we have this mini, pain-in-my-butt waste of time in the afternoon as well. This is another reason why I need to wear comfortable clothing to school.

  The swish of my first free throw going through the hoop calms my mind a bit. Brit returns the ball to me. I bounce it once. Twice. Flick the wrist. Swish.

  “Are you running for student body President?” Brit asks as she passes the ball back again.

  “Nah, I don’t think so…” I say with my eyes focused on the rim. After the third shot goes in I finish, “I was in student government freshman and sophomore years, and with everything else, I’m super glad I didn’t do it this year, so I’m going to stick to my guns and not run for any office next year either.”

  “Good for you, lady.”

  This comment makes me stop. “What does that mean?” I half-laugh.

  She takes her blonde hair out of its ponytail and bunches it back on top of her head again. “Like you said, you’ve got enough going on.” She tilts her head a bit, giving me her “motherly” look. “I know when you’re way past overwhelmed. Which you are right now, by the way.”

  “I know,” I mumble as I spin the ball in my hands, bounce it once, and take my fourth shot.

  “Doesn’t affect your game though,” Brit says with a smile as the ball goes in.

  Several shots later, my eyes catch the clock behind the hoop. “Shoot. I have to go. Auditions start in five.” I take my twenty-sixth shot. It was almost the required thirty.

  Brit puts on a fake pout. “You’re going to make me shoot my free throws alone and lie to Coach about how many you shot?”

  “Just tell Coach I made twenty-five. That’s not a lie.”

  She drapes her long arm over the ball resting on her hip. I want to make some comment about how she can stop looking like she’s auditioning for a modeling gig, but I don’t have time.

  “I’ll see you later!” I shout as I run out of the gym.

  In her typical Brit way, she blows me a kiss, then turns to face the hoop and makes a shot. Nothing but net.

  I’m a few hallways away from the auditorium when Aaron comes around the corner. I force the moan inward. I don’t have time for this.

  “Hey, Aaron,” I say, completely out of breath. I’m sure I look like crap because I was sweating while shooting free throws. I swear, I sweat all the time.

  “Hi, Kate. Were you able to get some pictures for the—”

  “Yup. I got some. I’m going to have to do another round, though, because there were many groups I couldn’t get. Honor Society ran later than usual.”

  “Oh, okay.” Aaron nods quickly, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. I can’t help but smile at how uncomfortable he seems. We’ve known each other for two and a half years. Maybe he’s just like this with everyone.

  It’s not like how Seth is with his insecurities, though. Aaron’s a nice guy. He’d be great for Candace. But Seth is nice and totally modest with what he’s got—the brown-haired, gray-eyed, musically inclined, academic genius. If any other guy had what Seth has, he’d probably be the cockiest kid in school. And he’d sorta have a right to be.

  Aaron clears his throat. “Thanks so much for doing that, Kate.”

  “You bet.” I say it louder than I want to, shocking both of us. Aaron takes a step back as I start moving again. “I really have to run. I’m late for auditions.”

  “Good luck.”

  I’m finally at the doors, both hands around the handles, ready to pull them open and nail this audition. My breathing is quick; my heart hammers against my chest. I’m not nervous. I don’t really get nervous for anything. I’m all wound up.

  I focus on my outstretched hands connected to the cool metal and realize that I’m exhausted, too. My head hurts. I’ve got a ton of stuff to do.

  Do I really want to do this? Do I want to add another thing to my schedule? Stretch my time, energy, and sanity thinner than they already are? I shake my head and back away from the doors. I should give someone else a shot. Someone who wants this more than anything.

  But don’t I?

  I kick the ground and rub at the pain in my head. I’m a horrible person for thinking this. How self-centered does someone have to be to assume they’re going to waltz in and get the part they want?

  Where is all this coming from?

  “Kate?”

  My hand clutches my throat—which manages to keep the scream from escaping—as I turn around.

  “Seth. Hi.” I chuckle in the hope he’ll stop looking at me like I’m crazy. “You scared me.”

  “Yeah.” He nods to the red-headed guy he’s with as he stops to talk to me. I wave at his friend to be polite while Seth’s eyes skirt the ground.

  “You…you looked like you were deep in thought or something,” he says.

  I open my mouth to say something, but I have no idea what. His eyes lock with mine, as if he’s asking me to share what’s on my mind. I take a deep breath and follow it up with, “I’m not sure I should audition.”

  What? Why would you tell him that?

  “What?” Seth echoes the voices in my head. “Why wouldn’t you audition?” He takes a step toward me. I don’t think he’s ever taken a step toward me.

  “It’s just…” I take a step back and almost growl. “Oh, I don’t know.” I rip my hair out of its ponytail and fluff it up, then put it back in its usual style. I’m stalling. My eyes dart to the clock on the wall. I am so late. Again.

  If in fact I’m going to do this.

  “Is it because you don’t think you have the time?” Seth asks as he tugs at the string of his navy hoodie.

  I meet his eyes and he doesn’t look away. A few students exit the door and walk through and around us. A soccer teammate hits my bum while another person says something directed toward me. But neither Seth nor I move.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I can do all of this,” I say, even though that’s only part of it.

  “Y-You should do what makes you happy, Kate,” Seth says and then shakes his head, looks down, and erases a smudge mark on the ground with his Converse.

  “I think both doing the musical and not doing it would make me happy. For different reasons.” Maybe I could go to a few movies. Have a Bachelor marathon with Brit, li
ke I’ve promised her for the past year and a half. Maybe I could spend some time with my sisters.

  But the stage, the lights, the challenge of memorizing a script, becoming the character, and transporting the audience to a different place—that is something you can’t do anywhere else. And it is something I’m good at. Something I enjoy. Something that is a very big part of me.

  Seth glances up and the spinning thoughts in my head stop. I find I’m very interested in what he has to say—he’s got his stuff together. At least it appears that way. I guess I don’t know him that well. And yet…it feels like I kinda do.

  He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

  I chuckle, releasing some of the tension in my muscles. “Just spit it out, Seth. I can’t get any more confused than I am now.”

  He takes a deep breath. “There are a lot of things we only get to do in high school. Like, I don’t see myself doing theater after I graduate. It takes a lot of time, and it drives us crazy, but I’ve got to think that when we look back on these four years we’d be sad we missed out if we didn’t do this stuff, you know?”

  I tilt my head as I think about his words. I suppose I could always catch up on movies and seeing my sisters a year and a half from now. And I’ve heard The Bachelor isn’t very good this season.

  There are a few beads of sweat over Seth’s lip as he continues. “And it…it really wouldn’t be the same without you in it.”

  My breath catches, and I stare at the top of Seth’s head as his eyes shoot to the ground. It’s amazing how words from a boy I haven’t known more than a few days make my stomach warm up and my cheeks flame.

  I reach out to tug on Seth’s hoodie string. “You really think y'all would miss me?” I bat my eyes and pour on the southern drawl, Oklahoma! style.

  “Yeah.” Seth is grinning when he looks up and eyes my fingers wrapped around the navy blue string. We stand for a few seconds without moving, both transfixed on my finger stuck to his hoodie.

  The door to the auditorium opens as someone exits and Ado Annie’s song soars into the lobby, causing both of us to look through at the glowing stage inside.

  The door swings shut, cutting off the music, and I twitch when Seth’s hand wraps around mine and frees my finger. He whispers, “So…you might want to get in there.”

  I give a cheesy curtsy as Seth holds the door open for me then darts into the sound booth to do…whatever it is he does up there. Through the window, I see Seth take a seat next to his red-haired friend and shake his head at whatever he asks. I walk down closer to the stage and take the seat a hopeful cast mate offers me.

  Somehow, I knew the guy who I haven’t even known for more than a few days would have the answers. I have yet to figure out how I knew, but that doesn’t matter. “Have the auditions for Ado Annie started?” I whisper to anyone who wants to answer.

  “They’re almost done,” Wendy replies from the row below, her feet dangling over the seats in front of her. “You got called, and since you weren’t here Mr. Steiman moved you to the end.”

  “Kate Ryan, is that you?” Mr. Steiman shields his eyes from the bright lights on stage.

  “Yes. It’s me. Is it my turn?”

  “Yup. Get up here, kid.” He waves me forward as if we’re going on some grand adventure. Everything is over the top with him—his clothing, his speech. Life would be a musical if you asked Mr. Steiman.

  I hand my sheet music to Chris behind the piano and give a lame thumbs-up to the people who wish me luck as I make my way on stage.

  When Chris plays the intro I know I haven’t made a mistake in auditioning. Excitement tingles in my every cell; musical notes fill every crevice in my body. These parts of me can’t be fulfilled by anything else. I need the music, this creative challenge. I can’t get this outlet anywhere but here.

  I took Seth’s advice and went with “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” because he was right. No female would do this song. The lyrics and notes were simple enough to get down. A few rounds in the shower and I was good to go.

  It’s a fun song. The words are light and flirtatious and really do work whether a guy or a girl sings them. I get caught up in the moment and move around the front of the stage, singing to my audience. Pointing at the guys, which elicit some hoots and hollers. The energy in the room propels me through, adrenaline coursing just as fast as if I were on the basketball court.

  When the song is done and I’ve taken my bow to a round of applause, reality sets in. If I get this part I can kiss any form of sleep goodbye. I might have to cut back on hours at Jamba, though I really don’t want to do that. I’ll have to study in the auditorium while waiting for my scenes to come up during rehearsal.

  But any combination of sleep deprivation and social life misstep is worth it to be able to participate in this musical. I’ve made it work before.

  And I’ll make it work again.

  “Look at me! I’m Ado Annie!”

  All eyes shoot to Kate standing in the Jamba Juice doorway, her loud announcement—which she sings to the tune of “Sandra Dee” from Grease—drowning out the bell that rings every time a customer walks in.

  A bunch of people from our school stand and clap, and the rest of the busy room joins in. Kate bows and twirls in her Jamba uniform, then tugs on her hat. I laugh to myself behind the counter.

  “Jason!” I call in probably the loudest voice I possess, which doesn’t break through the commotion in the room. Trevor Larson is already smothering Kate in a gigantic hug, picking her up and fist-pumping the air.

  I clear my throat and try to reach down in my diaphragm for something that’ll break the sound barrier.

  “Jason!”

  All eyes go from Kate to me, and the back of my neck rushes with heat as I push the Jamba across the counter. Trevor sets her down and she gives him a fist-bump, finger-wiggle thing I’d completely screw up if she attempted it with me.

  “You,” she says, pointing right at my face; like an idiot, I look over my shoulder, then point to myself when I see no one there.

  She laughs, hops over a chair, and leans on the counter, her face closer to mine than anyone’s ever has been. Well, except maybe my mom when she forces a kiss on my cheek as I walk out the door. My sweat glands instantly go on overdrive.

  “What was it you said?” She waits for me to answer. Am I supposed to know what she’s talking about?

  “Uh…”

  “Mr. Steiman pulled me aside when the cast list went up. You know what he said?”

  I shake my head, my mouth quirking at the corner at the big smile on her face. I’m so glad when I talk to Kate I don’t have to input a lot of actual speech, and she still looks comfortable.

  “He told me he wasn’t going to cast me. Like, before I even got on stage he told himself he’d give me a small part, because I’m always late and running around and you know, being me.”

  We both laugh, and I find myself leaning across the counter toward her, too.

  “You know what changed his mind?”

  “You,” I say automatically, because it’s obvious. She killed that audition. I didn’t have to adjust anything in the sound room to make sure she was heard. And she marched around that stage like she owned it.

  Even Dylan, who wasn’t paying attention to squat up there, said she nailed it.

  “No!” She rolls her eyes and pokes my shoulder. “He said the song I picked told him I was ‘crazy, gutsy, and incredibly talented.’ So he just ‘had to give it to me.’” Her finger rolls around in a tiny circle. “Aren’t those the exact words you said?”

  My brain rewinds to that night outside her car. “I think I said ‘ballsy.’”

  She shakes her head and throws her hands in the air. “You’re a genius. Really, you’re brilliant. I’m taking you out.”

  My head jerks back so hard my hat flies off. “Uh, what?” I ask as I bend down to get it.

  “Break time. You and me. Pizza Palace next door. You up for it?”

  “W-W
hy?”

  That’s not what I mean to say, but it’s what falls out. Kate grins and pats the bill on my hat.

  “Because I know I wouldn’t have the part without you. So I’m saying thanks the only way I know how. With food.”

  I squeak out an “Okay” just as Harry calls from the back.

  “Kate, clock in!”

  She cocks her head back and forth, rolling her eyes. Straightening and tucking in her shirt, she says, “Break time: you, me, and lots of pizza.”

  My legs bounce up and down under the table. The rickety booth shakes in tune with my knees. I know it’s not a date. Or at least, I don’t think this is what anyone’s idea of a date is—I’ve never been on one myself and have only seen them in movies. Still, the nausea in my stomach tells me I may not make it through the salad in front of me, let alone the very large pizza that’ll be coming out any minute.

  Kate’s alternating between taking bites of her lettuce and coloring on the kid’s menu. She didn’t even ask for it when we walked in. The hostess gave her the crayons and coloring pages with a big grin on her face, then showed us to the table. Kate had the sense to order ahead of time so we didn’t have to waste more than half our break on waiting for food to cook.

  “Okay,” she says over a mouthful of lettuce, “I’m X’s, you’re O’s.”

  She shoves the menu under my nose and points at the tic-tac-toe game. She’s already marked an X in the top right corner. I have to shake out my hands to make sure I can do a circle that won’t look like a lopsided potato.

  After three games, I push the menu back at her, but she’s not looking at it. She’s staring at me, her eyebrows pulled down, and she taps her blue crayon against the table.

  “Uh…” I stutter, rubbing a finger under my nose in case there’s something there.

  “How do you do it?” she asks. I’m pretty sure she’s having half of a conversation in her head.

  “Win at tic-tac-toe?”

  “No,” she says through a laugh. “You’re busy, right? Like, all-the-time crazy busy?”