Between You & Me (3 page)

I look up into the navy blue twilight sky and skip ahead of you, trying to shake this feeling, wondering why it even mattered to me if Mia was still there. Tugging my sweater on, I turn to you with a busy smile.

ME

Hey, so, do you like anyone this year?

You shrug and tap your toe in a puddle, sending a ripple out to the edges, your hands wedged into your pockets as always. All of a sudden, you have my complete attention.

ME

You do! I can tell!

I swing at your arm.

YOU

Huh?

You heard me, I know, and I can see you smiling as you turn away.

ME

Come on! Tell me. I tell you everything!

You shrug again, evasively, but, despite another playful shove, give nothing else away, and tuck your chin in as we turn toward my house.

Stretched out on my bed, you've avoided any further conversation about romantic interests. I'm curled on the window seat, waving a pen with a pink streamer on the end, and not taking no for an answer:

ME

There
is
someone, isn't there? You have a crush!

A harmless crush? Right? The topic is unusually interesting to me today. I can't see your face but I fling a pillow at you, which you catch with great satisfaction.

YOU

Quick like a cat!

I shake my head despairingly and take the moment to casually mention Mia, that I think she's cool. Relieved—probably
that I'm no longer badgering you—you perk up and roll onto your front.

YOU

Yeah, she seems nice.

Mm-hmm
is my super-dynamic reply as you flip open the computer. I'm not a big social surfer but curiosity wins out now and again, and I hop onto the bed beside you. We scroll past the school hot list, which I made an appearance on last year but just for a week, and I'm glad not to feature on any scandal lists. Then there are the gossip pages but we spend all day at school so I don't see the need to talk about it online in the evening. This time, though, I punch Mia's name into the search to see if anyone has mentioned her. Three hits since this afternoon, including
Check out the new hottie
. I flip the computer shut and slide up the volume on the song playing.
Secret heart
. I sit up again quickly and peer suspiciously at my play list.
This very secret that you're trying to conceal/Is the very same one that you're dying to reveal.
This has been a strange day. When I see you looking at me, I say something about the crap people post with a noise that was supposed to be blasé but sounded possessed. My abruptness is fortunately eclipsed by the cat coming into the room and hopping up onto the bed with a purr. She pushes her head into the palm of your hand, giving me a moment to wonder what it is about some people, and why I should feel protective of a person I hardly know. Holly (Golightly) flops onto her back and I watch you stir her tabby fur, remembering
the day she first came home and we let her squirm in our cupped hands.

You check the time. Nearly 8:00.

YOU

Crap. Gotta go!

You grab your shoes.

ME

Time flies when you're with me …

You zip your smile into the neck of your hoodie. You're busy this year, always something to do. I'm not sure I like it. We used to hang out for hours.

ME

What's tonight? Karate?

You nod, heading to the door. I came with you to a few classes last year. I had dreams of being a spy—martial arts an obvious prerequisite—but there's a lot of stretching and you get pink and sweaty. I realized that what I actually want is to be a spy in movies where there is never pinkness or sweat. So you could say that I want to be an actress. I hand you your stack of books at the door.

YOU

See you tomorrow.

You salute and bound downstairs.

We're here for our first real class with Mia. As I gaze at the arch that sweeps above the stage and at the lights on the deep plum curtains drawn closed, the theater feels alive, full of expectation. It's exciting to walk down the aisle, sidestepping into a row of seats. Mia sits at the front of the stage in a circle of light.

MIA

Purpose.

I sit forward to be closer.

Everything we do is the pursuit of an objective. Some are fulfilled in seconds, some take a lifetime, but there's a reason for every action, so let that purpose propel you from one moment to the next.

She takes an orange from her pocket.

Remember how it felt running with your eyes closed? You had to be in the moment.

She throws the orange unexpectedly to Kate in the second row. Kate's hand shoots out to catch it, startling her and making Mia laugh.

MIA

Excellent! Be receptive to your impulses.

Kate throws it back, Mia smiling, engaged.

See how you're all now rooted in this moment.

She pretends to throw it a few times before sending it toward Tony. She smiles again and so do I.

Your intention to catch the orange triggered your response to reach out.

He returns the throw and she tucks the orange back in her pocket.

You wouldn't catch an orange that no one threw. That would be weird! Keep that in mind onstage so you're never speaking or moving without a reason.
Stand up because you need to. No pacing, no musical chairs or hugging furniture. And no crazy gesturing.

I laugh so much at her demonstration that some people stare. My post-laugh sigh is still tapering off as she disappears into the wings. After a moment, the curtains open and we're looking at a single desk and chair center stage, exactly the same as the ones in any classroom. Mia reappears.

MIA

First, you're just going to be you. Let's get past any self-consciousness and the thought of being watched. Put a fourth wall between yourself and the audience. I'd like you each to come up and spend two minutes onstage, as if you were by yourself. Sounds easy enough, right?

She presses her hands together.

Imagine you're the first into class. Arrive exactly as you would. Create the classroom in your mind and try to believe that you have two minutes alone at your desk before anyone else comes in. Engage with a task you would realistically be doing.

She smiles, running her eyes around the room with a curious smile.

Anyone like to go first?

A quiet pause. I don't see the hand go up behind me.

Eva! That's what I like to see.

Eva?
Crap. Should have volunteered.
She stands up and smooths out her skirt. I never had her pegged as an actress type, which goes to show I shouldn't peg. Clutching her bag, she makes her way toward the stage. Mia moves to a seat in the first row, her elegant chin raised, gazing up at her.

MIA

Think about where you've just come from. Close your eyes and experience the hall in your mind before you step into the classroom. We need to get the impression we're seeing a snippet of a seamless existence.

Eva nods and amid a few hushed whispers heads behind the curtain. My stomach flutters, nervous for my turn. She takes her time and when she finally reappears, she's herself. I'm impressed how familiar it seems, watching her carefully unpack her books neatly on the desk and tuck her bag beneath it the way I see her do every day. She seems to
accept exactly who she is, embracing the traits that people make fun of, and I feel a pang of fondness for her. She opens her book for English, smooths flat her ribbon bookmark, and then she reads. Just reads, her expression a genuine pout of concentration. Two minutes are over so quickly. She looks up expectantly when Mia speaks.

MIA

Very good, Eva. You came into the room with very believable purpose. Great work.

Eva beams, her usual prissy expression falling back into place as she returns to her seat. Mia looks thoughtfully at the class, scrunching up her nose in a way that I know I will come to love. I watch her eyes roll past me and my hand goes up before I've given it any thought. She returns her gaze to me and nods for me to come forward. Nerves pervade my chest as I grab my bag and climb past her onto the stage. She smiles at me.
Same thing
, she says.

Backstage, I take a breath.
Be natural
, I tell myself, gazing unseeingly at the ripples in the curtain.
Try not to think of Mia
. Given that for some reason I've been thinking of her since she arrived, it would be true of this moment for her to be on my mind. So I close my eyes and, picturing the hallway outside her classroom, the smell, the blue notice board with the paper peeling up in the corner, I push through my imagined door, stepping out onstage. No one here yet. Mia's
jacket on the back of her chair. Maybe she'll be the first to arrive. I swing my bag onto my desk, then check the glass square in the door for any sign of her. I'm rearranging my bangs in the hazy shape of my reflection there when I realize I never finished copying my timetable into my notebook. I sit down and take out the book and a pen. I've reached Wednesday. No Mia Wednesday, the dark day. Thursday starts with Mia and we have her Monday and Tuesday afternoons. Friday I can get through. Theater is what I want to be good at, three periods a week to win her respect. Maybe I care too much about what people think? But no more than anyone else, right? Everyone cares, that's how we measure success—by what people think. I fill in Thursday. So it's normal that I sometimes say what I think I should say, hide what I think I should hide. I push my hair back from my forehead again, absentmindedly twirling it around my finger and wondering for a second how people see me, whether it's anything like how I see myself.

MIA

Excellent!

I look up, seeing the room full of eyes on me. I embraced my real-life thoughts, gave myself to the moment. I gaze at Mia's open expression, her involved eyes. She nods, and my heart is still racing as I settle again beside you.

Ryan is next. He puts his head on his desk and sleeps for two minutes. Surprisingly believable. You can't quibble with
the truth in that. Mia laughs. I make it my goal to elicit that perfect sound from her.

When the bell rings at the end of class, people collect together their things in an instant and flock toward the doors. I hang back, reaching underneath the seat for my bag. Mia is still at the front of the stage, so I wave that I'll catch you up. I'm hoping to see her for a minute, and I'm thinking of a reason to speak to her. I've reached the stage—everyone else is leaving and Mia is following! I have to say something, to hold her back … I swallow. The words aren't coming. She's gone. Missed my chance.

Heading to the final class of the day, with a pang of excitement I see Mia leaving her room and coming toward me. With the hallway emptying, here's a chance to make up for earlier! My heart beats faster. I look casually at the notice boards lining the walls until I'm ready to make eye contact. She's adjusting the shoulder of her ruched purple shirt. We're about to pass, I have this one moment to speak. We draw even, she looks up and smiles.