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It’s getting dark outside now, but the lights seem to be getting brighter. I glance out my window and realize we’re heading downtown. We pass several bright, glass office buildings. Then we drive further into the older part of the city. Before I can ask any questions, Ethan pulls over and parks beside a meter. He climbs out of the car. I follow suit.
“We’re going to have to walk for a few blocks,” he says. “I hope that’s okay.”
I look around at the red brick buildings on either side. Everything seems to be closed for the day, or closed forever. We pass several empty display windows. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” I ask.
“Why, are you scared?” Ethan sounds too eager to be concerned. He steps closer to me and puts his arm over my shoulder. He rubs my arm with his thumb as we walk. Ethan leads me around a corner. He drops his arm to open a door for me. I look up and see we’re entering an old, rundown theater.
When I step inside, the lobby contradicts the exterior of the building. It’s bright and warm and inviting. Ethan steps over to a small box office and buys two tickets. I look around, trying to figure out what we’re going to see. The walls are lined withplaybills and pictures of the cast for each show, going back many years.
“Do you want popcorn or a soda?” he asks.
“I’ll take a Coke,” I say.
Ethan nods. I watch as he orders my drink and a large popcorn for himself. I can’t imagine eating popcorn right now. My stomach is still full from dinner. Teenage boys and their bottomless pits. I wouldn’t believe it except Dylan is the same way.
We walk down a ramp and past rows of carpeted, red chairs. Ethan walks to the front of the theater, closest to the stage. He makes his way to the center of the row and pulls down the chair front with his foot and sits. I set my drink on the floor beside my seat and excuse myself to the restroom.
As I wash my hands, I glance up into the mirror. I’ve never really liked looking at myself before. In the past, at school, I always washed my hands while looking down, to avoid eye contact with my reflection. This time I stare at the face looking back at me. My soft, brown curls are actually staying in really well. I have a tiny smudge of eyeliner below one of my eyelids. I wipe it away carefully with the corner of a wet paper towel.
I keep looking at myself. I’m starting to like the person I see now. Maybe Stephanie and so many others were right. Maybe I do deserve this nomination. Maybe I do deserve to have guys like me back. Maybe it’s okay to be smart and have fun.
The bathroom door opens and two women walk in. I quickly step away from the mirror and toss my paper towel in the trash on the way out. The theater is much more crowded now. I walk down to the front and make my way toward Ethan.
“You’re back,” he says, smiling. “And your front. They’re both here!”
I burst into laughter and his grin broadens. “So what play are we seeing exactly?” I ask, pushing my chair down andplopping into it. I’m still unsure of why Ethan brought me to a theater. I’m not really big on plays. But I try and smile and act excited for whatever he has planned.
“Oh, it’s not a play,” Ethan says. His blue eyes are shining again and I know he’s holding onto another surprise.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I ask.
Ethan shakes his head. “Just wait for it,” he says. He’s practically dancing in his chair. Whatever it is, he’s excited.
The lights begin to dim and a disembodied voice crackles through the speakers. It welcomes us to the something theater. I couldn’t tell what name he said. He says several other things I can’t quite make out. Then I hear the word Improv and the audience cheers. I snap my head to look at Ethan. He’s staring back at me with a wide smile spread across his face. He stands and cheers loudly while four men and two women run out onto the stage.
I’ve only ever seen Improv one time before. A group came to the high school last year and put on an assembly. I remember laughing, but I also remember feeling incredibly embarrassed for the actors. They were doing the dumbest things and acting completely ridiculous. As I watch Ethan, watching them, I smile. He is eating this up. These are his people.
Every time they call out for a suggestion, Ethan is the first to shout an answer. And the next idea is more ridiculous than the last. I spend more of my time watching Ethan laugh, than watching the actors on the stage. After one particular scene with a mermaid and a teddy bear trying to rob a bank together, Ethan is giggling so hard, his eyes are watering.
He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and looks at me. “Aren’t they hilarious?”
I smile and nod.
“I love coming here,” he says. “If I get into UNC, the first thing I’m doing is trying out for their Improv group.”
One of the men onstage clears his throat into the microphone. “Alright, for this next game, I’m going to need a couple of volunteers.”
My face grows hot and my heart begins to thump inside my chest. I look over and Ethan is pointing at me. I quickly point to him in return.
“Looks like we have our two,” he says waving Ethan and I onto the stage.
I shake my head furiously. This is like my worst nightmare coming true. I glance down to make sure I at least have clothes on. Ethan jumps up and runs onto the stage eagerly.
“Come on, sweetie,” the man says, pointing at me. “We have a rule here, that if you volunteer another person, you are volunteering yourself.”
By the smile on Ethan’s face, I can tell he was fully aware of this rule. I stand on shaky legs and slowly trudge up each step to the stage. My hands are shaking and turning clammy. I’m sure my face is bright red. I can feel the heat of the blush in my cheeks.
Ethan comes over and grabs my hand, pulling me forward. I feel like I might pass out. In fact, I begin hoping I will pass out. Then I can get off the stage. Who cares if I end up with a concussion?
