Between You & Me (11 page)

There are bookcases on every side of me, as high as the ceiling. I head down an aisle. There's Harmony. At least there's the top of her head, her face in a book. She's one of the only two people in here. I stand in fiction and pretend to look busy. From the corner of my eye, I watch her expression as she reads. She seems so comfortable being who she is, so open that, forgetting I didn't want company, I go and sit down opposite her. She raises her eyes to me expectantly.

HARMONY

Hi.

ME

Hi.

Even her “Hi” is peacefully melodic. I speak before I'm even aware of the question forming in my head:

How come you don't try as hard as everyone else to be liked?

There is an impatient
shhh
from the
one
other person in here.

HARMONY

Liked?

I feel the sweaty panic of saying something stupid, and make effusive efforts to cover it up.

ME

I just mean you're different, different good. Great different. Yourself!

She smiles.

HARMONY

I'm kidding. I consider it a compliment.

I let my breath out.

ME

It
is
a compliment. I'd like to be more like you.

She smiles.

HARMONY

Really? Well, I can't see the point of being exactly like everyone else.

We share a minute of thoughtful silence. She looks at me carefully.

HARMONY

What are you so afraid of?

That's an excellent question! I'm still trying to find an answer when she continues:

Everything you're going through is perfectly normal.

My heart falters. I make sure my expression says “I have no idea what you're talking about,” but I have a nervous inkling that I do.

HARMONY

I had the biggest crush on a friend of my sister once. She was amazing.

She goes on, completely unfazed.

It's funny how there can be something special about that one person, isn't it?

I'm that transparent!? The idea is mortifying but at the same time this girl has just given me license to feel something. Catching my stunned expression, she smiles warmly.

HARMONY

I've had a hundred crushes. There's a lot to be attracted to in this world. There's nothing wrong with that.

I swallow, staring at her and waiting for my heart rate to settle.

ME

I'm afraid of what everyone will say behind my back.

She puts her hand on the table between us in an unexpectedly comforting way.

HARMONY

Kind of ridiculous, isn't it. Since when should we be punished for a feeling like love?

Her startling wisdom imparted, she says she'll get back to her reading. Still reeling at her perceptiveness when the bell goes a moment later, I stand up impulsively, my purpose coming back to me with a jolt. This is the
now
I've been waiting for! Shouldering my bag, I struggle to find some parting word for Harmony. She returns my gaze, not seeming to expect me to say anything. So, with a simple nod, I make for the door and she waves her farewell. My rapid unchecked footsteps reverberate on the wood floor and the
shhh
from that one other person in here echoes after me.

Mia is coming out of her classroom as I arrive, my heart already picking up pace with anticipation. She greets me with a warm smile.

MIA

Hi. Ready? Walk with me.

Ready? Yes! I swallow and fall in beside her. She is clutching a paperbound book. Heading through the doors with her, listening to her voice, I forget every second of expectation that has led up to this moment. We walk side by side across the grass toward the theater. She's talking about class, my vivid imagination. The seconds slow and to me we could be the only two people on earth. Turning onto the path, we sit down under the arch in front of the theater. I feel so awake—the texture of the bench under my palm, Mia's closeness, the crisp fall air. She says I'm a sensitive, honest actress and, dazed with compliments, I am missing the point.

MIA

So …

Finally! I was about to throw my arms around her neck and tell her that I love her too.

MIA

I'm putting on the fall play this year and I want you to audition.

Audition? Grasping the reality, I nod my head. Of course I was going to audition, I want to be an actress. But to know she wants me there. This could be perfect.

ME

Sure.

She claps her hands together, genuinely excited.

MIA

Excellent. Here's the script. Have a look at Lily.

She hands it to me, and I clutch it like a present. Kate appears at the end of the path.

KATE

Mia, you wanted to see me.

She says her name to her face like it's butter on her tongue. Mia is already up and walking away. She smiles back at me.

MIA

See you Monday for auditions, Phyre.

I sit beneath the arch as I process everything that just happened. So I'm not the
only
one who Mia has arranged to meet. That's okay. Maybe I blew it a little out of proportion. Even alone, I feel my face flush pink and my chest constrict with private embarrassment. As I find my feet and walk toward the gate, new (sane) thoughts start to take shape. At least this is my chance to spend time with Mia. My new sense of purpose intensifies as I walk; I'm recognizing with every step how imperative it is that I get this part. If I don't, I can't begin to imagine the jealousy that I'll have to live with—about all the time she'll be spending with someone who isn't me.

First thing when I get home from a tediously long shift at Peele's, I run upstairs and fling myself down on my bed, pulling Mia's script carefully out of my bag. Lying on my front, I tuck my hair behind my ears and press open the paper cover. Holly pushes through the door and jumps up onto the bed, stepping across the small of my back to find a choice spot on the windowsill. I reach to rub the top of her head, and then start to read …

THE PRICE HOUSE. EVENING. 1950.

The bedroom of Lily Price. A record player plays jazz. Lily, seventeen, a pretty, vivacious small-town girl, turns it up. She sweeps her hair out of her face and dances to the music. She puts on lipstick, curls her eyelashes, and then fastens her necklace and smooths it down beneath the collar of her satin dress. Abuzz with nerves and excitement, she is almost ready for her first date with Michael. She has dreamed of this moment. He should be here any minute.

The front doorbell rings. She takes one last look in the mirror, sprays herself with perfume, and runs down the stairs into the kitchen. Bobby, their farmhand, is sitting down for soup at the kitchen table. He grins at her affectionately.

BOBBY

Where are you going, Miss Price?

LILY

Never you mind.

BOBBY

But I do.

LILY

I'm going on a real date, Bobby, with a real man.

BOBBY

Fine by me. You'll come back when you know what's right for you.

LILY

You just see if I do.

She snaps her purse shut, shoots him one last glare, and stalks out the door as sexily as she knows how.

MOM

Phyre.

I flip the play shut. Mom is calling from downstairs. I consider pretending I didn't hear but she calls again.

ME

Yeah!

I can't hear her reply, so I reluctantly slide off the bed and go into the hall. At the bottom of the stairs, I see
you
beside her, looking up at me.

ME

Hi!

Right now I'd rather read the play than anything but as I look down at your open expression and Mom disappears back into the kitchen, I figure I can spare a minute. Trotting down the stairs, I jump the last step and meet your gaze.

YOU

So what did she say?

You haven't taken off your coat yet so, instead of inviting you in, I pull my sweater off the peg by the door and we go into the garden. There's a chill in the air but it smells good out and we wander over to the tree house we built in fifth grade. “Tree house” equals plank between two branches, barely five feet off the ground, but it seemed death defying at the time. We squeeze side by side onto the plank, legs dangling.

YOU

So?

ME

Mia thinks I should audition for the play this year.

I look at you in the light from the windows of the house, wondering if your expression will give away the “Is that all?” that I tried not to feel.

YOU

Of course you should!

I smile.

ME

She gave me a copy and I had just started reading—

YOU

Oh, sorry, would you rather get back to it?

ME

No. No, that's okay.

Sitting in the tree beside you, staring up at the night sky, it really does seem okay. The breeze picks up and makes me shiver.

YOU

Cold?

I shake my head, even though I am a little. Then, forgetting that I wanted to be by myself tonight, I suggest we get hot chocolate and go up to my room to read the play together. We attempt a dismount at the same time, getting temporarily wedged together in the crook of the tree. After choreographing the maneuver, we head inside, laughing.