She looks guilty then.See, I fucking knew it!Let the flesh-tearing begin.
“That’s true. I did tell someone. But not to snitch! I was just talking about our night. I never thought you would get in trouble over it.”
Just talking? On what planet is that an excuse? “Sure,” I say. This is exactly how I didn’t want to feel in the middle of the show. Worked up and childish. “’Cause you and Mr. Pinski regularly do lunch to spill tea and—what—swap recipes?”
“Oh my gosh, Hattie, you’re so extra sometimes! I told Richard, okay? I just told Richard. That’s all.”
His name makes me jump. He’s probably in the room right now, and if he hears me talking about him, it’ll be totalhumiliation. I scan the kids sitting around us. No Richard. Even still, I walk over to a practice room and wave Amanda inside, shutting the door behind us.
What she said is starting to sink in. “So wait,Richardtold on me?”
Amanda looks uncomfortable. If she wouldn’t tell on me to the school, she probably doesn’t want to tell on Richard to me, either. A piano takes up three-quarters of this tiny room and she starts tapping two adjacent keys back and forth, like she’s playing the suspense music in a horror movie. Then she stops. “He said he was just trying to protect me.” She sighs and shrugs. “’Cause I was already caught smoking with everybody else. He thought if you were implicated, too, we’d both get to keep our parts. Which is basically what ended up happening. But I swear I didn’t know anything about it until it was already done.” She’s been looking at the floor, grinding the toe of her boot into the carpet, but now she looks at me again. “Just don’t hate me, okay? I like you. I want to be friends,” she says, then with a hint of smile adds, “Or at the very least not have you attack me in the halls.”
The stage manager, Sofi, opens the door a crack and pokes her head in. “Places, ladies, places,” she says, then hustles on.
My mind is swimming. For some reason, I keep misreading Amanda. But she didn’t betray me. She likes me. She likes me enough to tolerate a lot of bad behavior from me and still want to be my friend. Enough to be honest with me right now. I really hate hating someone. It means walking around ready for battle all the time, and every time I see the target of myhate, adrenaline shoots to every nerve ending and my mouth goes dry. I would love to stop doing that, and start liking her instead. But letting go of a feeling that I’ve been gripping so tightly is giving me a weird sensation, like I’m falling.
I step through the doorway and then look back at her.Say something to make her feel better. She deserves it. “I’m putting my claws away, I promise,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says, chuckling. “Have a good second act.”
I do. I have a great second act. Partially because Richard and I are obviously competing, one-upping each other. We’re so “professional and focused on the craft” it’s like we’re maniacs. I wish someone was keeping score because this is clearly an act-off. Every push of intensity on his part amps me up, too, and vice versa. This is the time in the play when Guenevere has fallen in love with Lancelot and cheats on Arthur. Richard always transmits the torment of the situation well, but this time his performance is also filled with total disgust for me—I mean, for Guenevere, and her unethical behavior. His noble dignity is condescending. It lights a fire in me. I need to show how Guenevere had no other choice, that fate was driving her into Lancelot’s arms and it was impossible to resist. I sing “I Loved You Once in Silence” with so much passion that Carter actually looks taken aback at first, like he might be a little afraid of me. But the level of power is contagious, and soon we’re both swept up in it. We’re just supposed to hug at the end, but this time, we somehow both fall to our knees together, overcome. The song gets a huge round of applause. It’s so freaking fun.
After the curtain call, the hallway is a crush of people, everyone talking and shouting congratulations to each other. My mind feels wiped clean, blank, and my body feels lighter, like I’m half helium balloon. Amanda appears next to me. “Bravo,” she says, smiling. “Some of us are going to Friendly’s for ice cream. You coming?”
“Ooh, yes. Let me just find the fam and tell them.”
I locate them waiting on the edge of the throng of audience members loitering in the hallway. Both my parents are beaming, and my brother is excitedly shaking a big bouquet of flowers toward me.
“These are for you!” he crows as soon as I get to them. He thrusts the stems into my hands. “Break a leg!”
He’s being so darn cute I don’t correct him on when it’s the right time to say that. It’s refreshing to see all three of them looking happy at the same time. All four of us, I realize suddenly.
“Thanks, Nate,” I say, making a big show of burying my nose in the blooms and inhaling deeply. “These are beautiful!”
“You were wonderful,” my mom says at the same time as my dad says, “Poise and presence. Real star quality.” It’s so like him to be over the top. I wonder for a millisecond what it’s even like to go to a play and not be able to see it, like you’re listening to an album in the dark.
“Thanks. Some of the cast are going to Friendly’s. Can I go?”
“Of course, hun,” my mom says. “Do you have enough money?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Oh, here, take this anyway.” She presses two twenties in myhand. Whoa. Free money and no curfew reminder? I should be in a play more often.
The Friendly’s is mostly empty, so us theater kids feel entitled to take over. We spread out over half a dozen booths, which is good because Richard ends up at the opposite end from me. I briefly wonder how long my brain is going to constantly keep track of his location in relation to mine, like some hormonal GPS.Ignore him. No, more than that. Forget about him.
Amanda and I slide into a booth at the other end of the group from Richard. I note how unusual it is for her to be so far away from him, and I wonder if she’s feeling torn. I didn’t really get her take on whether she thinks he betrayed her trust or saved her skin. I study her, but she doesn’t look conflicted, just ready for sugar.
My favorite thing about Friendly’s is that there’s basically a whole page on the ice cream menu of stuff with peanut butter in it. Peanut butter cups, peanut butter sauce, Reese’s Pieces, peanut butter shell coating. The only thing I like more than chocolate is peanut butter. Asha’s favorite is the strawberry shortcake sundae, which, to me, is a missed opportunity. Why get fruit when you can have a peanut butter explosion?
Asha arrives in the next carload of kids and ends up stuffed into our booth, too, directly across the table from me. We haven’t spoken since the failed séance, and the distance between us is getting more excruciating by the second. I try to catch her eye, but she studiously avoids looking at me. At a loss, I turn and start chatting with Amanda. I laugh a little too loudly. Ifthat makes Asha a tiny bit jealous, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
I probably should apologize to her, but I can’t frame in my mind how that would even look. I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean at her house and she knows it. And what about what she said to me? Maybe I’m the one who should be receiving an apology. But are apologies something Asha even does? Ultimately, I would rather just skip ahead to the part where we’ve already made up. The messiness in between there and here feels like an ocean, and I’m wearing cinder blocks of shame on each ankle.
Ignore it. Pretend to have fun. Our cast parties always turn into boy versus girl duet battles, and since the official cast party got canceled, we do it here. We go completely over the top, the cheesier the better. The antidote to the cringiness of singing show tunes in a restaurant is to totally embrace it. As usual, we start withGreaseand end with a goofball song fromHigh School Musical 2. I watch Amanda effortlessly harmonize. At least I can now feel the freedom of being able to enjoy it instead of hate her for it. At least I’m not mad ateveryonehere.
The orders hit the tables and the singing stops, the clinking of spoons against glass making the most sound now.
