Understudy (11 page)

"What are you doing?" Dad asked, eyeing the bag cautiously.

"Eating," I said, offering him a leaf.

Mom walked past him and placed her purse on top of the wooden counter. "You could've popped the left over lasagna in the microwave," she said, opening the fridge.

"I'm a vegan remember?" I said, taking a step backward as I caught a whiff of her Chanel No. 5. Damn, I hated that scent. "I eat non-living things."

Dad shook his head in disgust and stalked out of the room.

"What? Aren't you guys supposed to be happy that I'm being healthy?"

"Yes, because sticking needles containing god knows what in your arm is healthy!" Dad exclaimed from the adjoining room.

"Oh, great!" I tossed the plastic bag on the counter beside Mom's purse. My hunger was gone. "I've been clean for more than a year. Thank you so much for asking!"

"He's just upset," Mom said, frowning slightly as she examined the bag.

"It's Romaine, Mom. It's not Mary Jane or anything!"

She sighed. "I know."

I leaned back against the fridge. The cool surface felt good on my skin, but it wasn't enough to clear the questions swimming in my head. "Why am I here again?"

"Because this is your home," Mom said, carefully placing a hand over my shoulder.

"Really?" I asked, walking towards the door. "It doesn't feel like home to me."

"Where you going?"

"Out."

***

Connie's bakeshop was packed as I came in. Mostly adults chatting over a cup of coffee. It reminded me of Starbucks minus the Mac books and Wall Street guys jabbering into their smart phones.

I liked it better here, though I couldn't help but remember the last time I was here with Kat.

I ordered a carrot muffin roll to go, but Connie told me that she had sold out.

"Would you want to try our cornbread instead?" she asked. Her kind gray eyes seemed to smile at me.

"Umm, sure."

"Okay, I'll be right back," she said, disappearing behind the curtain exactly the way she did when Kat ordered− wait, what did she order anyway? I tried to remember what it was, but the only thing that came into my mind was how I acted like an asshole in front of her.

I didn't mean it. I really couldn't understand why I acted like that that day. Maybe it had something to do with the knowledge that she hated me. A fact that she made clear right from the start.

I'd met her twice before the accident, before my parents sent me to boarding school. Since then, I'd only hear about her when Adam and I were having those rare "bro bonding" moments. An activity which, as much as I tried to deny it, I missed.

But even then, I knew how much they loved each other, and a part of me believed that it was one of the reasons why Kat was angry at me. I reminded her of my brother. I understood that, but what I couldn't understand was why I couldn't stop acting like a jerk to her. It wasn't like I was, but I usually only acted that way around people I didn't want to associate myself with. Plastic people in Highcrest who thought that they knew me since they knew my dead brother.

But Kat was different. Adam could easily make friends with anybody, but there was something about Kat that changed him. Talking about her always made him happy, which made me I want to get to know her. And also, as weird as it may sound, I felt like I had this duty to look out for her. Maybe it was because she's my brother's girl, or maybe I was just being crazy. Either way, it was driving me nuts.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Connie said as she came out holding a tray of cornbread loaves. The delicious smell wafted throughout the room and my stomach started grumbling again.

I watched with anticipation as Connie sliced a huge chunk and wrapped it with a sheet of wax paper before handing it to me.

"How much?" I asked as I fumbled in my pocket for some change. 

Connie gave me a warm smile. "Consider it a gift."

"What?"

"You remind me of your brother," she said, her smile faltering. "Such a sweet boy."

That was what I hated about the people in this town. I hated it when people treated me kindly just because I had a dead brother, but somehow, with Connie, her words felt real. I realized that it might be the reason why I was drawn to Kat.

She didn't have to pretend that she was sorry for me. She showed me how she felt, even if I couldn't understand why she was so angry with me. She was real.

Chapter Twelve

Kat

Preparations for the play fest went into full swing two days after the casting and appointment of roles were completed. Students were grumbling about memorizing their lines, and I couldn’t thank my lucky stars enough for having been spared that horrible fate. Unlike me, Sara was excited about her part. She was learning her lines even before the official rehearsal schedules were announced.

“It’s not that bad,” she said as she flipped through her copy of the script. “I actually would prefer being cast as the narrator than working with the production design. It’s a lot of work.”

“Easy for you to say. You live for the drama.”

Sara lifted her chin as if to protest, but she ended up smiling sheepishly, showing her newly bleached teeth. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yeah, and it’s ridiculous.”

Sara shook her head. “You know what’s ridiculous? Eric as Tiny Tim!”

As if on cue, Eric entered the gym, and I hated myself for noticing him.

“Have you filled out your college applications?”

My gaze darted back to Sara and I just blinked at her.

“Well, not exactly the answer I expected, but I will take it as a yes.”

“What do you mean?”

Sara went back to reading her script and made no indication of answering me.

“What do you mean?” I repeated.

She sighed dramatically. “You may not admit it, but you’re kinda like suffering from OCD.”

“I don’t have repetitive habits.”

“Not exactly, but you like things organized, and you hate missing deadlines. Procrastination is totally out of your vocabulary."

She was right, but she was wrong about the college applications. I wondered how she would react if I told her that I planned on attending Highcrest Community College. She wouldn’t believe me, and the fact that I was that predictable annoyed me.

“Have you considered HCC?” I asked.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What if I’m not?”

Sara peeked up from her script and rolled her eyes. “Oh please, like that’s going to happen.”

I shifted in my seat as I considered her answer. What was I thinking anyway? Was I really prepared to forego my dream of getting into NYU for Adam? Would I be able to justify that decision years from now? Would Adam even still be around then?

“Please tell me that is NOT going to happen," Sara said, suddenly concerned.

My stomach tightened and, for a split second, I considered telling her everything. I had long wanted to, but instead all I said was, “No. Of course not.”

“Is this seat taken?”

“No.” It was a reflex reaction, and when I looked up to see who it was, I was immediately angry at myself  as I saw Eric occupy the vacant seat next to mine.

“Oh, seriously?” Sara said, dropping her script on her lap.

“I asked her if this seat is taken and she said no,” Eric said coolly.

Sara lifted her chin, her nose flaring a little. I’d forgotten that despite her childish attitude, she was capable of being condescending when necessary. “But that doesn’t mean that she’d like to sit next to you.”

"I sat behind her during homeroom and three other classes.”

Sara’s jaw tightened. “Your point being?”

“She wouldn’t mind me sitting beside her.” Eric’s gaze shifted to my face and he added, “Or am I wrong about that?”

Sara glared at him but she didn’t say another word. She picked up her script and continued memorizing her lines.

I was practically burning with anger, and I was about to tell him that he was wrong when his expression softened, reminding me of the person who was probably wandering around the woods that very moment, waiting for me.

“I’m sorry about the other day at Connie’s.”

His words made my jaw drop, and it probably would have stayed that way if it weren’t for Mr. Blake yelling out my name.

“Kat Vanburgh! Where is my production designer?”

“That’s you,” Eric mumbled, before turning toward the stage where Mr. Blake was waiting for me.

I bolted out of my seat, grateful for the distraction, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened. Sara followed me with her eyes as I climbed up to the stage next to Mr. Blake. There was no hint of her hearing what Eric had said, and I highly doubted that she’d understand what it was all about even if she did.

“Ah, there you are. Are you ready?” Mr. Blake was smiling ear to ear as I stood next to him. He handed me a clipboard with the list of students’ names and their assigned characters along with some notes regarding props and costumes.

"Yes, sir,” I said, trying to look enthusiastic as I pretended to read through the words, when the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Eric.

It was totally unexpected of him, and it made me wonder if he was just toying with me, or if he was really sorry. Something that I never thought he was capable of.

I went back to my seat beside him without so much as a glance at him. I kept my eyes fixed on my clipboard, rereading the list over and over until I memorized everything that was written on it.

Somehow, having Eric beside me felt different than him being behind my desk in class. I could see him in my peripheral vision, his arms folded across his chest. I started imagining Adam beside me, which I realized was not a good idea.

“Hey, what’s up?”

I looked up from the list and saw Sara staring at me, although with one eye on Eric, who was attentively listening to Mr. Blake’s words, or at least pretending to be.

Mr. Blake started briefing us about our rehearsal schedule. We were required to stay at school from three thirty to five in the afternoon every day, which meant I would be spending less time with Adam.

“Is he serious about the three thirty-to-five schedule?” I asked Sara.

“Yeah, I guess. You know how excited he gets when it comes to the play fest.”

“But do you think we all have to stay? I mean, I’ll be working backstage and I can also take stuff home if necessary.”  Or to the woods where I could talk with Adam as I worked on some prop sketches.

Sara flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think so, and besides, you’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately. You need a social life. It’s been like three months and−" she stopped, placing a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Kat,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, Kat. That was stupid of me.”

“No. Listen to me. I’m fine, it’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile as I leaned back in my seat to pretend to listen to Mr. Blake.

I could feel her eyes studying me, and I tried my very best to look normal, or rather, bored.

“Yeah, you are fine,” Sara said a moment later. “You’re actually doing better than I expected.”

Now it was my turn to look at her, but she had already reverted back to her script.

I sighed.  Yes, I was doing fine, but how come it felt like something was about to go horribly wrong?

***

“That’s nice,” Adam said, peeking over my shoulder as I did some sketches for the costumes.

“I’m still having a hard time with the ghost costumes.”

“Ghost costumes?”

“The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future,” I said, setting the sketchpad on the ground.

“Don’t you have assistants to do that for you?”

“You mean Tina and Diana?”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “You mean the emo-core twins?”

I poked him in the ribs, which made him chuckle. “Hey, don't be such a bully! They're actually okay, especially if they're not talking about their dark stuff. And they're not twins."

“I never said anything bad about them.”

“I never said that you did.”

“Okay I don’t want to play this game,” he said, brushing away a stray strand of hair from my face.

“How are you doing with Eric’s costume?”

“What?”

“How are you doing with Eric’s−"

“I heard you the first time,” I said, snuggling in to his chest. “Why are we talking about him? I thought you’re angry with him?”

“I can’t really be angry with him forever.”

“I’m sorry but he’s an asshole.”

“Would you please stop talking about him like that?” he said.

“Why? You hated him as well.”

“I never said that I hate him.” His voice softened a little. “I mean, I did. But not in that way.”

“But you used to say these things about him getting into different kinds of trouble, and I remember the time you practically said you wished wasn’t  your brother.”

Adam lay back on the soft grass. “I didn’t really mean that,” he said slowly.

Adam was a good person. I knew it the moment we became friends, and he had always been good to other people. The only time I saw him really angry was whenever we talked about his twin brother’s latest escapade. But he’d always end up understanding him, even when their parents seemed to have lost their faith that Eric would change for the better.

I couldn’t blame them though, I for one believed that it would have been better if Adam was born as an only child. Did that make me a bad person?

“We’d have to put him in leg braces,” I said.

“Yes, about that. Doesn’t Tiny Tim walk with a crutch?”

“Yes, but he also needs the brace as well.”

Adam frowned, as if the idea of leg braces troubled him. What if the accident didn’t happen and Eric stayed in New York? Would Adam be the one playing Tiny Tim? Was this how he would have reacted when I told him that he needed to wear leg braces as well as walking around with a crutch?

“Would you promise me one thing?” he asked as I was trying to picture him as Tiny Tim.

“That depends.”

“Would you promise to be nice to my brother?”

“Eric?”

“Last time I checked, I only had one brother.” He touched the tip of my nose with his index finger and grinned.