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“There are little baby sheep playing harmonicas all over it.”
I shrug. “I guess it would be cooler if they were playing drums.”
“Hi, Brant. Hi, Theo.”
The girls traipse over to us, and I nudge Theo with my elbow until he pops up beside me, swiping at his hair and trying to cover his vest with his arms. I teeter on the balls of my feet and give them a nod. “Hey. You guys are dancing tonight?”
Of course they’re dancing tonight. Why else would they be dressed like peacocks?
My embarrassment flares, but not as much as Theo’s. His pale skin breaks out into blotches of red, almost like hives.
“Yeah, we’re dancing,” Monica responds. Her eyes light up when she glances at Theo. “I like your vest.”
I think Theo might faint. His own eyes bug out, his words stuttering in his throat. “Um, I… Yeah, it’s not mine. It’s Brant’s.”
My head whips toward him.
“He likes sheep. And harmonicas. And I just put it on by mistake, thinking it was a different vest. A much, much cooler vest.” He coughs into his fist. “Because I’m cool.”
I just stare at him, confused. We all do.
“Oh, well, that’s…cool.” Monica forces a smile.
Luckily, Mrs. Bailey intercedes, sending a “hello” to the girls, then telling us it’s time to go find our seats in the auditorium. I’m grateful for this. I’m also really mad at Theo for being a liar.
“Bye, Brant,” Wendy says, while Mr. and Mrs. Bailey collect their things and Theo runs ahead of them like a chicken. “I’ll wave to you when I’m onstage.”
I’m shocked silly when she lifts up on her tiptoes and gives me a little kiss right on the jaw. My cheeks grow hot, and I splutter, “O-Okay. See you in there.”
Wendy blinks her long lashes in my direction, her reddish-brown hair piled high on her head, not a lock out of place. Must be that magical hairspray. Then she takes Monica by the arm, and they skip off to join the rest of their group, leaving me bewildered and stumbling to catch up to the Baileys.
When we’re settled into our seats a few minutes later, I shoot Theo a glare. He’s hunched low in his seat, his knees drawn up. “Why’d you lie, Theo? You made me look like a dummy.”
“I dunno. I’m real sorry, Brant.”
“You didn’t have to lie, you know. I would’ve said it was my vest if you asked me to.”
His head pops up, his eyes big and curious. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
A silence settles between us. I pick at the buttons on my dress shirt, waiting for what Theo will say next.
He finally sighs, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Maybe you should be Mario. You’re a lot braver than me,” Theo tells me, glancing in my direction. “I can be Luigi.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re the saver. I’m the sidekick.”
“But—”
“Mario doesn’t just stop being Mario because he gets scared. He keeps fighting. He keeps going and going until he defeats all the scary things,” I say, my voice hushed in the quiet auditorium. “Think about it. He gets a whole lot of chances before he gets it right.”
Theo bites at his lip, nodding his head as he faces forward. He’s silent for a beat before he whispers, “Yeah. You’re right.”
A shot of happiness ripples through me.
Pride.
And that’s when the lights dim to dark and the curtains open. That’s when the announcer welcomes us, and the show begins. That’s when the dancers walk out onto the stage, the youngest group going first—June.
