His current career suited him just fine, provided frequent visits to the ranch, and it left his schedule flexible enough to help with Melissa’s kids.
What was Iggy up to now? Specifically?
He’d find out soon.
Not soon enough.
He was early to the pickup area, and that was fine—except the coffee he was sipping was slowly thumping away at his bladder, and he’d need a pit stop as soon as he got Iggy and his luggage in the truck. He had no idea if this airport had public restrooms on this side of the gate, and he didn’t want to tempt the wrath of security by wandering around.
He played a puzzle game on his phone, until passengers began spilling outside and wandering around, seeking their transportation elsewhere. Standing by the bed of his pickup, Malcolm tried to imagine what Iggy looked like now, seventeen years later. Twice a lifetime since they’d last breathed the same air, walked the same floors at Bonner High School.
So far removed from that second chance meeting after school withthe drama club…
…Beingpart ofthe drama club is social suicide, but Malcolm would rather death by a thousand finger-points and behind-his-back sniggers, than showing his dad another D on his report card. If working after school on the sets for the springproduction ofThe Wizard of Ozbrings his grade up to a C+, he’ll do it. It’s not like he’s all that popular anyhow. He drifts between the pot heads and the wannabe jocks who fill out the team rosters but never actually get field time, mostly to keep busy and away from home. Counselors say all those activities look good on his transcript, but Malcolm doubts he’ll go to college.
They don’t have the money, and he isn’t smart enough—or dedicated to any single thing enough—to get scholarships.
His sole goal right now is any excuse to spend time away from home.
The first club meeting is the second Monday back from winter break, and all the usual kids are there. Popular ones, brainy ones, pretty girls and good-looking boys, and no one Malcolm is really friends with. Which is fine. He’s here to paint scenery and build canvas flats, not socialize.
Their school doesn’t have a theater, just the stage in the massive auditorium that also serves as the cafeteria, so they’re all gathered at the various tables and benches. The club’s faculty sponsor is Mr. Kelley, who also teaches English and Composition classes, and he’s about to call the meeting to order when a familiar, slender figure slips onto a bench at the same table as Malcolm. Farthest from Mr. Kelley and his pet students.
Iggy sits with his shoulders hunched, backpack on his lap, head low and tilted to the side so he can see and listen, without being too obvious. Malcolm recognizes the posture of someone trying not to be noticed. He hasn’t seen Iggy since that first run-in in the hallway, no classes with the guy, and he hasn’t noticed Iggy during his lunch period. Then again, if Iggy sits like this everywhere he goes, Malcolm probably overlooks him.
He knows Iggy’s name now, because transfer students are rare, so everyone talks about them. Well, talks about what little they know, and so far, Iggy Donohue is a bit of a mystery to the Bonner High student body. He’s apparently related to HowardDonohue, the guy who runs the old saloon on the edge of Chance proper. Not much else.
Mr. Kelley drones on about their spring musical, and how he finally has the budget for a production likeThe Wizard of Oz.Malcolm has seen parts of the movie on TV, and he knows the basic story, but how the hell is a group of high schoolers going to fake a tornado? Isn’t there a bit about a horse of a different color? And flying monkeys?
Not his problem to solve, or his sets to design. Point him at something, and he’ll paint it.
Auditions, blah blah.
Practices, okay, important.
Stage crew volunteers, yes, him!
Malcolm follows a cluster of students, including Iggy, to one side of the auditorium, where they gather around a senior named Beth Porter, who’s the stage manager this year. She’s only got two copies of the script right now, so everyone will have to share and take turns reading them this week, along with the tech notes she’s put in the margins. She’s also got a list of sets needed for the show, and will have breakdowns later in the week.
All in all, it’s a quick meeting, and Malcolm hates that it’s over before four o’clock. Mom doesn’t get off work until five, so she can’t pick him up from school until five-fifteen. He’s got an hour to kill. He can probably go sit in the gym and watch basketball practice. At least it’ll be warm, instead of bitter winter cold outside.
He’s in the school lobby contemplating no good options when a lyrical voice asks, “So, were you late?”
“Huh?” Brilliant response uttered, Malcolm turns slowly and blinks dumbly at Iggy.
Iggy stands taller, shoulders straight now, backpack at his feet while he shrugs into a long, gray coat. His lips are twistedinto something close to a smile. “Last week when you nearly ran me over. Were you late to class?”
“Nah, right on time. You?”
“Skated in by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin. I’m, um, Iggy, by the way. Iggy Donohue.”
“I know.”
He quirks a slender, dark blond eyebrow. “And that makes you?”
“Oh, Malcolm Montgomery.”
“That’s a mouthful. How often do you get called M&M?” The confident teasing in Iggy’s voice is so different from the shy guy in the auditorium crowd. Much more like the guy Malcolm ran into last week.
