Never Enough (11 page)

And then he did. My gold vest almost touched his shirt.

“So, three wishes, huh?” He set the lamp in an open box beside him. Now we were both defenseless. He looked at me with serious eyes, but not the kind that made me wonder what I’d done wrong. The kind that made me wonder what I’d done right.

Is Marcus going to kiss me?
I wondered.
And why, oh why, do I have to be wearing a turban for it?

He reached over and touched a curl that had popped out from beneath the turban and pushed it back. Of course it didn’t stay, but he held his hand there like he wasn’t sure where to put it.

I wanted to tell him—put it on my face, on my shoulder, on my hair, I didn’t care at this point. Just put it somewhere!
But a loud bang made us both jump and he pulled his hand away fast.

Someone had opened the stage door too wide on their way in. Voices echoed from down below, but Shayleen’s carried above the rest.

“It’s about time Mr. B let us use class time to figure out our blocking.”

Marcus took a step away from me. My heart sank. As the sounds of other students got louder, my adrenaline kicked in and I started to unfasten the complicated buttons on my vest.

Shayleen led several other members of our drama class onto the stage and ordered them to stand in different places. One guy nearest the curtains on our side whispered loudly, “Who died and made her director?”

A couple more students came through the door below us. I recognized Deirdre’s short hair. Even though I slid my vest off silently, I guess the shiny gold caught the light. Deirdre looked up at us, shading her eyes so she could see past the glare of stage lights.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Deirdre and I hadn’t talked since things went sour with Shayleen. I held my breath, but seconds later, she let out a little giggle.

If there was one thing I knew about Deirdre, it was this: she didn’t know how to pull off a mocking giggle—the kind
Shayleen had perfected. Deirdre genuinely thought my outfit was funny. And if she thought that, maybe she didn’t hate me as much as Shayleen did.

I brought a finger to my lips, hoping I had it right. She nodded, but before she turned for the stage, Shayleen came barreling toward her.

“We’re waiting for you!” she said in an angry tone. “What are you laughing—” she looked up. I took a step back toward the boxes and eyed the ladder that went further up to the lighting catwalk. But it was too late.

“What on
earth
is she doing?” Shayleen said, loud enough that everyone onstage looked up at Marcus and me.

I tried to quickly remove the turban, but it caught in my hair—stupid curls—and I ended up leaving it tilted on my head while Shayleen marched for the side door.

I could hear her calling Mr. Benson even after the door slammed behind her.

*   *   *

Marcus and I were just climbing down the ladder—with a whole audience of Shayleen’s cronies watching us—by the time Mr. Benson came backstage.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Benson,” I said. “We were just checking through the costumes to see if any props were buried in them. I guess we got carried away.”

Shayleen spoke over me. “Obviously that costume is completely
inappropriate for the performance. They think this show is some kind of a joke! Some excuse to stay back here and play dress-up without doing any
real
work.” She huffed and crossed her arms. “And we all know Loann would do just about anything to be alone with a guy.”

“Is this true?” Mr. Benson asked, turning to me. I wasn’t quite sure what his question was, and even if I did, I doubted I could form anything other than a gurgle.

But before I had a chance to embarrass myself further, Marcus appeared beside me holding a box. Our photography box.

“We’ve been working really hard,” Marcus said, setting the box down and pulling out the envelope of my favorite photos from the top. He passed them to Mr. Benson, who opened it and looked inside.

Marcus continued. “Since there’s not much in the way of usable supplies—”

“And since these pictures go so well with the theme—” I interjected.

“We’re going to try to do a photo-set, on the back scrim there,” Marcus finished. I pointed to the back wall of white. The class turned to look as we waited for Mr. Benson to say something.

“Ptff, as if that’ll work,” Shayleen murmured behind me. “And leave the stage totally empty? Yeah, that’ll look
great
.”
Sarcasm dripped from her tongue and I was sure if I looked down I’d see a pool of it on the floor.

All the other students looked between my pictures and our teacher, waiting to see how he would react. Should they take Shayleen’s side and start mocking Marcus and me, or go on ignoring us as usual?

“Brilliant!” Mr. Benson finally said. “I can’t wait to see it!”

While everyone else stared up at the white scrim, trying to picture it, Marcus reached over and squeezed my hand.

The backstage area swarmed with students until the end of class. I kept looking
at Marcus. I wanted so much to have another moment with him, at least an unspoken understanding, but he didn’t meet my eyes. I hated Shayleen for ruining things.

I didn’t see Marcus again until after school at our lockers.

“Arts Club?” he asked, without looking at me.

I tilted my head to try to see more of his face, to figure out what he was thinking. Did he wish we hadn’t been interrupted on that upper platform as much as I did?

“Actually, I can’t today,” I said, trying to get a reaction from him. “I have a dentist appointment at three.” It was true, and I should’ve been headed to the front doors to meet Mom so we wouldn’t be late.

His mouth turned down slightly. Was that . . . disappointment?

“I
wish
I could stay today,” I said, hoping he’d catch my genie innuendo. “I really
wish
I could.”

He pursed his lips. Then he shook a finger back and forth in front of me. “Uh, uh, uh. You can’t get me to waste one of my wishes on a silly dentist appointment.”

A wave of relief hit me and a loud laugh escaped.

“I guess we’ll save those wishes for another day then, hmm?” he said with raised eyebrows.

My skin tickled with goose bumps. I stood there in a daze, staring at him until he said, “It’s ten to three. Don’t you have to go?”

“I, uh, oh yeah. Or I could just stand here staring all day.” After shutting my locker, I backed away, I guess to make my embarrassing moment last a little bit longer. But he held up a hand to wave, just held it in the air like he was almost as dumbfounded as I was.

I practically skipped from the school to Mom’s car. Then even into the dentist’s office, of all horrible places. But it was the best dentist appointment ever. I lay there on the chair, closed my eyes, and relived our time in that upper storage area.

The only problem was, my dentist had to keep telling me to open my mouth wider, because I was grinning from ear to ear.

*   *   *

That night at dinner, true to her word, Claire helped herself to only the vegetables on the table.

“Here,” Mom said, passing her a big casserole dish. “I made it meatless, just for you.” Mom forced a smile in Claire’s direction, as if to say:
Just try to say no after I made this especially for you!

It took Claire a second, but she reached for the dish. We both knew Mom could be like a drill sergeant, the way she never let up on anything.

Claire helped herself to a small half-spoonful, and then eyed Dad, who had actually made it home for dinner. Claire took a fuller spoonful and cleared her throat. I was sure she was trying to come up with an argument about being scared her grad dress wouldn’t fit, or another reason she didn’t want Mom’s casserole, but then she said, “Hey, Dad, I’ve been looking through housing brochures for college, and they have some great single rooms on campus.”

I wasn’t sure why she was using her suck-up voice until Dad balked. “A single room? They’re three times the price. We talked about this. I thought you said Jasmine was going.”

“Yeah, she is.” Claire didn’t say anything else, so it left me to wonder: Why
wasn’t
Claire eager to share a room with Jasmine? Was Jaz already set to share a place with Laz? But why wouldn’t Claire just say that, if that was the case?

The conversation died quickly and Claire just stabbed at
her food, taking a bite every ten or twenty jabs, like she was angry at the casserole.

When I finished, I went straight for my room, glad to not be on dish-duty. I glanced at the homework on my desk halfheartedly, then plunked down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking more about what Marcus’s first wish might be.

My stomach made noises while digesting and I looked down at it. The only time it flattened out was when I lay on my back.

Vegetarian, huh?
But who was I kidding? I couldn’t live off of vegetables. My stomach let out an extra growl at even the thought of it.

But still, after my day with Marcus, I wondered if I should start watching what I ate. And maybe dressing a little nicer.

*   *   *

The next morning I spent more than half an hour picking out my clothes for school. I didn’t end up choosing anything
that
mind-blowing, but I wore the jeans that made my butt look the best and a green tee that complemented my dark hair.

Eager to get to my locker—to mine and Marcus’s—I wove through the hallways, which were scattered with members of the grad committee putting up banners and posters.

Instead of finding him there, though, Deirdre stood by my locker. She let out a quiet sigh when I reached her. I
usually diverted my path when Shayleen and Deirdre were together—who needed to deal with whatever they were dishing out?—but Deirdre on her own? I bit back a smile. Maybe we could get past things.

“Hi,” she said, still sounding somber. I spun my lock and popped it off.

“Um . . . hi.” I gave her an awkward smile.

“Great picture.” She pointed to a recent portrait of our neighbor’s dog I’d taped inside my locker door.

“Thanks.” I paused, wondering if I should ask. “Where’s Shayleen?”

“I don’t know,” Deirdre replied quietly, picking at her thumbnail. “Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to, you know, get you into trouble.”

She was just as nice as I remembered, and I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought she was a bitch like Shayleen. Still, I was sure she didn’t want to go head-to-head with Queen Tantrum for talking to me.

When I thought I heard Shayleen’s voice, I blurted, “Oh, no problem. Don’t worry, I don’t blame you.” I shut the door, gave her a half-wave, and walked away.

By drama period I knew Marcus wasn’t in school. He hadn’t looked sick yesterday, and I personally wouldn’t have missed seeing
him
today if I’d had pneumonia. But I tried not to be offended. I tried not to let depression take over as I sat
alone at lunch, headed home alone after school, and realized how unevenly yoked our friendship probably was.

Marcus had likely always been a loner and could deal with it. But I found it really hard to get used to. It wasn’t like I’d had the largest circle of friends, but still, having someone to sit with at lunch meant a lot to me.

As I fed my books into my locker the next day, my mind stayed on Marcus. Would he miss another whole day of school? I was just shutting my locker when Deirdre came up and just started talking.

“So we had a fight. Shayleen and me,” she clarified. “It’s not . . . she’s not the type of person I want to be friends with. So, it’s cool.” She motioned between us.

It was weird. I’d never really spent much time around Deirdre without Shayleen. They’d always been better friends than Deirdre and me. But I wasn’t complaining. “What was the fight about?” I asked.

She nibbled her lip and stared at the floor. “Oh, nothing. You know, just one of those things.”

“She’s not going to hear you, you know.” I looked up and down the hall. No one paid us the least bit of attention.

After a moment, she shrugged. “I, uh . . . I told Ben Kroeker something I shouldn’t have.”

“Something
she said
you shouldn’t have?” I didn’t look away, hoping Deirdre would see she could trust me.

“Well, yeah.” A small smile crossed her face.

By her quiet voice, it didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about any of it. “Whatever. It’s none of my business.”

Later that day, without so much as a hello, she said, “All I told him was that she was a tease. The truth is, she’s also a liar. I should’ve told him that part too.”

That’s it?
I just assumed it had been a fight over me—I’d imagined Shayleen had gone on about finding me in the genie costume with Marcus; about how our photo-set would probably ruin the whole play. To which Deirdre would have defended me.