Steering the Stars (35 page)

       “That’s not…” I was going to say that it wasn’t the same thing, but it was the same and I knew it. How could I encourage my sister to take a giant leap when I wasn’t willing to follow through and see my own adventure to the end?

       After that our conversation glided back toward more neutral territory. We talked about our favorite movies and books. When we were finished and the check was paid, I turned around to gather my things. That’s when I noticed a small orange flyer tacked to the wall of the pub.

       “What’s this?” I asked pointing to the flyer. “A ghost tour?”

       “Ooooh,” Felicity said, stepping up behind me so that she could see. “I’ve heard of those but I could never convince Michael to go with me. He frightens as easily as a newborn colt.”

       I laughed before reading out loud, “Old Barley’s Ghostly Experience: A theatrical sightseeing tour through the darker side of London, including Highgate Cemetery.”

       “It sounds like it might be a bit of adventure,” she observed. “The pick-up point is not far from here. Do you want to try it?”

       I smiled. “Yeah, I think I do.”

 

“Please try to post these around and hand them out to your friends and family,” Mrs. Cobb was saying as she circulated the stage with a bunch of papers.

       When she handed some to me, I realized that they were flyers for the play. Opening night was less than a week away.

       “I’ll take a few,” Henry said, stepping from behind the black curtain that separated the backstage area.

       On Monday after the dance, Henry had reappeared in the auditorium after school to work on the play again. I couldn’t say that things were back to how they were pre-fight—we still weren’t riding to school together—but they were getting there.

       He’d even started joking with me again on a regular basis. And that was better than all the Pumpkin Spice Lattes in the world.

       When Mrs. Cobb finished handing us flyers, rehearsal dispersed. I walked down the steps attached to the side of the stage and found my backpack where I’d left it in the fourth row of seats.

       I was bent over wedging some flyers between my textbooks when I heard a throat being cleared behind me.

       “Hey Caroline?” It was Miles.

       I stood up. “Yeah?”

       “So, I was wondering…?”

       “Is this about the final scene?” I’d missed a few steps today and was planning on practicing when I got home. “I’m going to work on—”

       “No,” he said, shaking his head forcefully. “I was going to see if you wanted to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

       “Oh. Um—” I looked around the auditorium. Several students were close enough that they could hear us. One of them was Henry. My heart clenched and my stomach turned over. Something felt innately wrong about accepting Miles' invitation, especially with Henry as a witness.

       “It’ll be Friday so I figured we could go off-campus.”

       “Right. I… just…” I locked eyes with Henry and something inside of me fell away. I don’t know what I thought I’d see there—
Anger? Jealousy?—
but he just offered me a small smile of encouragement. It was a stark and painful reminder that the feelings I had for him were unrequited. Maybe we could be friends again, but that was all. I knew the best thing for me to do would be to give Miles—the guy who was actually interested in me—a real chance.

       “If you can’t…” Miles was saying awkwardly.

       “No! I’d love to have lunch with you,” I said with a forced cheerfulness that sounded pretty legit to my ears. Maybe I was getting the hang of this acting thing after all.

       Miles looked relieved. “Great. There’s this new place that just opened on Main that I’ve been wanting to check out.”

       “Okay,” I nodded with feigned enthusiasm.

       “Do you like Thai?”

       “Love it!” I lied. In the ninth grade I’d gotten food poisoning after eating Kuay Tiew while on vacation with Hannah’s family and I’d hadn’t been able to look at Thai food without feeling nauseous since.

       But Miles was a nice guy, and if there was a possibility I could like him as something more than a friend, shouldn’t I go for it?

       “Great,” he said again. “Then I'll see you tomorrow.”

       “Sounds good.” This time, my voice came out all wrong and my face muscles felt tense.

       Luckily, I didn’t think Miles caught it. He flashed me a genuine smile and waved as he walked back toward the stage.

       When he was at a safe distance, I let go of my breath and slumped my shoulders, quickly deflating like a slashed tire. With my head still down, I put my coat on, looped a knitted scarf around my neck, and headed for the back entrance before anyone else could try to talk to me.  

       It was freezing and dark—my two least favorite things. This week, we’d gotten our first serious cold snap of the year and there was even talk of snow. As I walked across the near-empty school parking lot, I shivered and watched my breath crystallize into hazy white puffs in front of my face.

       “Do you need a ride?”

       Without turning around, I knew it was Henry. I contemplated telling him no, but my desire to get out of the cold night won out. Plus, I really did want Henry and I to be friends again. Even if it hurt, it was worth it.
He
was worth it.

       I swallowed and reached for the door handle of his car. “Yeah, sure. That'd be great.”

       Baby steps.

      
Neither of us said much on the short ride. We listened to the radio and I tried not to smile when he softly sang along. Before I knew it, the car was idling in front of my house and Henry was looking at me. His hands were still on the steering wheel.

       “Thanks,” I said as I reached down to get my backpack off the floorboard.

       “Any time,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”

       I shook my head and blinked. “Well, yeah… thanks again.”

       “Okay. Do you need a ride to school tomorrow?”

       “No,” I answered quickly.

       “Okay, well…” He rotated his grip. “If you ever change your mind and want a Pumpkin Spice Latte, just text me.”

       I tried to laugh as I got out of the car. “Sure. See you at school.”

       “Night, Care.”

       “Night.”

       Henry didn't pull away from the curb until I’d unlocked the door and stepped inside my house.

       The house was quiet. It looked like Dad was out again, so I locked the door behind me but left the porch light on. Then I dropped my bag to the floor and went to get Aspen.

       As I watched her bound around the backyard and paw at the chilly ground with the kind of pure joy only dogs have, I thought about my father and the perfume bottle that still sat prominently on his dresser. He was gruff and distant, but he’d been telling the truth—he
did
love my mom. He loved her so much that he’d kept their bedroom like a time capsule, like at any minute she might walk through the door and throw her keys onto the small table in the hall.

       Aspen nudged my hand, a sign that she was hungry, so I shook my head clear and opened the back door. She skirted by me and went straight to her bowls. I laughed as I portioned out two scoops of food and topped off her water.

       Standing up, I wiped my hands on my jeans and reached for a box of cereal in the pantry. But, before I poured out the milk, I changed my mind and dumped the cereal back into the box. Then I opened the refrigerator and set about making two sandwiches—one for me and one for dad.

       Everything was off-kilter and I wasn’t sure how to make it right. I knew a sandwich wasn’t exactly an apology or a resolution, but it was a start.

       Baby steps,
I reminded myself as I covered one of the plates with foil. And then, before I really knew what I was doing, I darted into the hall and grabbed one of the flyers for
My Fair Lady
from my backpack
.
I laid the piece of paper on top of the sandwich plate and put the whole thing in the refrigerator where I knew dad would eventually see it. I wouldn’t directly ask him to come to the play, but the truth of it was that I did want him there.

       I took my own sandwich upstairs and set it aside and brought my laptop to life so I could do a quick online perusal before I started my homework.

       There wasn’t anything new from Hannah, and there hadn’t been for a few days.

       I wasn’t sure what to think about that. It was the longest we’d ever gone without talking, but that was the way I wanted things. Right?

       It had been my decision to cut off contact with her. My choice not to respond to any of the messages she sent or answer any of her calls. I was hurt and I was angry and I was…being
stupid
.

       It's Hannah. It's not like I didn't know that she was impulsive and acts before she thinks. I was perfectly aware of the fact that she always thinks she knows what's best—the reason she acts like that is because she's usually right. And her impulsiveness stems from her spontaneity and her spontaneity makes her one of the most fun people to be around.

       So was I really surprised that she tried to help me in true Hannah fashion all the way from London?

       Of course not.

       I think more than anything it was the humiliation I felt that overshadowed any logical thought-process I may possess because now that I had had time to calm down and really think about it, I knew I wasn't really mad at Hannah. I was mad at myself because I knew I was the one being a crappy friend.

       She had come clean and told me about Owen and Joel and yet here I was still sitting on the biggest secret I've ever had. I was totally falling in love with my best friend's brother.

****

My stomach had been in knots all morning for several reasons. Dad hadn’t said anything to me about the flyer or the sandwich I left him last night. I still hadn’t figured out how to talk to Hannah.
And,
I was dreading lunch more than ever. And, not because leaving campus was technically breaking the rules for me… It was because I’d be doing it with Miles instead of Henry.

       “Caroline!”

       Miles was coming down the hall. When he reached me, he said. “I have some bad news.”

       I felt a tingle of hope that he was going to cancel, but tried to squash it down before I spoke. “Oh yeah?”

       “I checked and that Thai place I wanted to try is only open for dinner.”

       “Darn.” I rolled my eyes like I was irritated. “I guess that’s a bust.”

       “Not really,” he said. “I was thinking we could have dinner instead?”

       “Oh…”

       “Maybe even tonight after rehearsal?” Something in his tone had me suspecting that dinner had been his plan all along.

       “I don’t think I can
tonight,
but another time, okay?” I said in a strained voice as I turned away. “Well, I guess I'll just go grab lunch in the cafeteria—”

       He caught me by my arm. “Don't be silly! We can still go somewhere for lunch.”

       “Oh, I-I wasn’t sure you still wanted to,” I stuttered.

       Miles laughed. “Of course I do. We’ll have lunch someplace easy and then when we have more time—” He winked, “—we’ll do dinner at the Thai restaurant.”

       I forced a perky smile. “
Greeaat
.”

       As we walked across the parking lot, Miles asked me if there was anywhere I wanted to go. I told him that I didn’t care and wanted him to pick.

       His car was an old grey stationwagon that smelled like gas and moth balls. This, combined with the fact that there was a bright pink tennis ball stuck on the top of the antenna, made me think that the car used to belong to his grandmother.

       The backseat was trashed with wads of paper and books and dirty clothes. I didn’t even know how it was possible to accumulate such a mess let alone maintain it. I spent the entire ride staring at the discarded fast food bags and the empty soda cans with growing revulsion.
Was this how most guys were?
No, that couldn’t be right. Henry’s car was always immaculate. And it certainly didn’t smell like this. It smelled like… him.