Breathless (14 page)

Charlotte returned to Jack's room and saw the wastebasket set aside. Jack was sitting back in bed, his head rested back on the wall, his eyes closed. He looked exhausted and he was breathing heavily. Charlotte gently took his face in her hands and cleansed it with the cool cloth, wiping away the sweat that had drenched his brow and soaked into his hair.

Surprised at the touch, Jack opened his bloodshot eyes. "Charlotte?" he croaked in a terrible voice.

"Shhh," she told him softly. She didn't want him to wake Lewis and Helen after they had survived being found out last night. "You just need rest."

Jack leaned back again and closed his eyes, but asked in a pitiful voice, "How did I get home last night?"

"I came to get you," Charlotte told him. "Jimmy called and said he was there with you. Topher and I came in the car. We managed to get you upstairs without anyone seeing or hearing. Helen and Lewis don't know anything."

Jack suddenly got a terrible look on his face and sat straight upward. Charlotte quickly shoved the wastebasket in his face once again as he retched. She turned and plugged her nose as he did.

"I'm fine now," he told her. "You can turn around." She turned back to Jack and sat on his bed, looking at him inquisitively.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked her with a frown on his face. "You didn't have to come for me. And you didn't have to care for me last night or today," he said as she took up the cloth once again.

Charlotte paused for a moment, reflecting on the fact that Topher had told her the same thing only hours ago. "I don't know," she finally told him. "It just seems right." She let her hands fall back into her lap and looked at him. "But I think in return, that I deserve the truth."

Jack didn't say anything for a moment. Charlotte was ready to turn and leave the room when he finally spoke sullenly. "She told me that she wanted to spend some time with me before I left for university," he said with a bite in his voice. "She said that
Importance
would be her last show while I was living with them. And I was intrigued by this. Because I had never experienced having my mother at home, and I couldn't imagine what it might be like. But then Lewis of course wrote another play with a role just for her. How is she supposed to refuse that? Even if she didn't want to hurt Lewis' feelings, she would have taken it anyway. Because she just loves theatre too much to ever stop. She won't admit it, but she loves it more than me."

"And then Lewis..." Jack added with disgust. "He wrote a play inspired by a filthy rich little teenager who he knew for three months? How does he possibly know what to write about her during the three months that he's known her?" He spoke as if Charlotte weren't in the room. His words pierced her like a spear through the stomach. "Let me tell you, Charlotte," Jack said looking at her with such a terrible scowl that she was almost frightened. "My father has never once wrote something inspired by me or dedicated to me. But you got here and you've put them under a spell. You love theatre like my mother. You read incessantly like my father. You like to cook with Mrs. Gates. You drive with Topher. You're a girl, like they've always wanted. You're the perfect child they've always wanted." Jack gave her a terrible smile. "And now they've got you. There's no use for me anymore. Always the black sheep of the pristine white family."

Charlotte was speechless. She had never dreamed Jack held such a resentment toward his family, or toward her. But what he said made sense. She just couldn't think of anything to change it. "Jack-" she began.

"Just stop, Charlotte," Jack said tiredly. He looked her in the eye and said, "Would you please leave and not bother me anymore?"

Tears pricked Charlotte's eyes. Had she really lost Jack, again? Just after she thought she had regained a brother? But she stood up-shaking-and managed to leave the room, closing the door softly behind her, before her tears began to fall. She could never have imagined that his words could hurt her so much.

Charlotte and Jack's relationship only deteriorated further as May came to a close. He went out early and stayed out late. When he was home, he kept himself cooped up in his bedroom, which always smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. He didn't come to pick Charlotte up from school anymore, even when it was stifling hot. Even when he passed her in the hallway or ran into her on his way out of the house, he didn't mutter a word in greeting to her. It was as if she were invisible to him. And Charlotte hated feeling invisible in a house, again.

But at least she had Celia, who had become a very dear friend. Celia had been incredibly excited when Charlotte told her about Lewis' play and had bombarded her with dozens of questions, all of which Charlotte tried to answer dutifully. But even she was unsure of what Lewis exactly expected of her.

"Do you think you'll have to drop out of school?" Celia asked one afternoon as the pair walked home after school in the blaring sun. She fanned herself with her hands. "The shows must keep you too busy to do homework."

"I don't think Lewis would ever let me drop out of school," Charlotte told Celia seriously. "He thinks education is far too important to overlook. They'll probably get me a tutor or something like that."

Celia pouted and hugged Charlotte around the shoulders. "But I'll miss you! You've become my partner in crime at school these days!"

"I promise you can come visit," Charlotte told her. "At the theatre, in my dressing rooms, at my house. We'll still see each other! And you'll still need help with your French. I'm sure of it." She laughed.

Celia nodded in agreement. "Oh, if you only knew! Even Monsieur Montague makes fun of my accent!"

Charlotte laughed. "I can believe it!" she told her friend honestly as she pushed through the doors of the house.

"Ah, just the girls I was waiting for!" Lewis immediately stepped into the parlor when he heard the girls chattering as they hung their jumpers and schoolbooks by the door. He had a massive smile on his face.

"Hello, Lewis," Charlotte greeted him rather suspiciously. The last time he had seem so excited was when he told her the news of her play. Charlotte was still apprehensive about it-terrified she wouldn't be good, resentful that it had destroyed her relationship with Jack, and worried what Helen and Lewis would think of her if she ended up backing out. "Why are you smiling like that?" she asked him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "What do you have to tell me now?"

"Nothing new to tell you," Lewis shook his head. "Something to show you." From behind his back, he produced two crisp white copies of what looked like a manuscript.

Charlotte gasped in excitement and reached for a copy. "Oh, Lewis! My script?"

"And one for Celia," Lewis handed her the other copy with a little wink. "Since I know she's been nearly as excited for it as you are."

It was true. Celia had been incredibly supportive of Charlotte's endeavor into the theatre. But more than that, she had become like a sister to Charlotte, especially since Lewis and Helen loved her so much. She was constantly at dinner, with her typical sweet chatter and little laugh. She often stayed to work on schoolwork with Charlotte. Sometimes they went on trips together to the cinema or for ice cream. Lewis permitted her to borrow books from his library, and even Helen had begun to invite Celia to shopping trips and lunch with her and Charlotte. Charlotte didn't mind sharing Celia with her new family. It was like having a sister-a much smaller, much brighter, more talkative sister than she would have ever imagined for herself.

Celia grinned and took the other script, already leafing through it. "
Sylvie
," she read the title from the cover. "I like it," she decided, smiling at Charlotte. "It suits you."

"Is that an alright name, Charlotte?" Lewis asked worriedly. "I didn't want to-"

"It's perfect, Lewis," Charlotte told him, throwing herself into his arms. "I love it," she said, truthfully, looking down at her script with pure joy. It was incredible to think that in just a few short weeks she would be performing this very play in a massive, beautiful theatre with thousands of audience members. The feeling was exciting, exhilarating, and also very frightening.

"Come on, Charlotte!" Celia pulled her by the arm. "Let's go read them!"

Charlotte cast one last thankful glance to Lewis before running upstairs after Celia, who was already reading the opening lines in a very theatrical way.

It was hours later when Charlotte leaned back against her bed, feeling both very confused and even a bit offended. The play was nothing like she had imagined it would be. It wasn't an inspirational show about a young girl conquering the world. It was instead a story of one headstrong, spoiled French girl who lost everything in the Great War and travelled to England with her sister, overcoming obstacles with her clever attitude and ease of manipulating others. There was a love story mixed into it somewhere, and some very sweet scenes between Sylvia and her sister, but overall, the play made Charlotte feel very strangely about herself. This play was supposed to be inspired by her. Was this really how Lewis saw her?

Celia sighed and tossed her script to the side. She bit her lip and looked up at her friend.

"What do you think?" Charlotte asked pragmatically. "You can tell me the truth, Celia."

Celia awkwardly sat on her legs and combed her hair behind her ear. "Well, Charlotte...it's very different than what I had expected..."

"It's terrible!" Charlotte spat out. "It's incredibly brilliant writing, but the story is terrible! Who wants to see a play about a young girl's troubles and how she overcomes them through manipulation and robbery and-"

"Charlotte, it
is
brilliant!" Celia insisted honestly, her blue eyes wide. "Lewis has written an amazing play! It's not some fairy tale story about a princess or a teenager's love story. It's the story of an amazing, strong young woman who does everything she can to survive and to ensure her sister survives, as well! It really is amazing!
Much
better than
Romeo and Juliet
," she added with finality, giving Charlotte a sly smile. Celia hated
Romeo and Juliet
almost as much as Charlotte did.

Charlotte still felt terrible. "Then why did you look so disappointed when you finished?" she finally mustered.

Celia hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. "It wasn't that I didn't like the play," she told Charlotte with a careful tone. "I was just thinking that...this will be an incredibly difficult part to play. Especially for someone who's never acted before."

Charlotte buried her head in her hands. "Oh, I know! I'm so terrified I'm going to embarrass Lewis and Helen! What if I'm absolutely horrid?"

"Well, I know you're an absolute drama queen, so at least you'll have that experience to work with!" Celia teased, tugging at a strand of Charlotte's hair. "And we can practice! I'm sure it can't be too hard to learn how to act." She sat up straight in front of Charlotte. "Cry. Right now."

Charlotte scrunched her eyes and tried to think of sad thoughts, but nothing came. "I can't," she told Celia. "I'll have to work on it."

"At least you looked sad," Celia said, sounding a bit impressed. "And I'm sure Helen will help if you asked." She suddenly got a very mischievous look on her face. "Who do you think will play Leighton?" she asked excitedly, naming Sylvia's love interest in the play. "You're going to have to kiss him! I certainly hope he's handsome!"

"Me too," Charlotte laughed. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at Celia seriously. "Celia, how Sylvia acts in the play...do you think that's how Lewis sees me?" she asked uncomfortably.

Celia shook her head. "No, I don't think so, Charlotte. Lewis thinks the world of you."

"But I was so different when I first came to London..." Charlotte mused. She sighed. "Should I ask him?" She looked at Celia, who was frowning in thought. But Charlotte knew her friend would not be telling her what to do. "I won't ask him," she finally decided. "Not now, anyway. I'll ask him when the time is right."

Celia nodded in agreement, looking almost a little relieved. Charlotte was, too. She didn't want to ruin anymore relationships with her stupid questions and childish actions. She was ready to grow up.

But after reading the script that night, it felt like a spark had been lit in Charlotte. She couldn't wait to get onstage, to try acting, to work with the castmates and to thrill the audience. She grabbed all of her nearby plays from Lewis' library, and snooped through the parlor's photo albums of Helen's shows, but nothing seemed like enough. She needed to get to the theatre.

Topher drove Celia back to her dormitory before dropping Charlotte off at the theatre where Helen had a show that night. He took her to the back door.

"I didn't think you'd want to have to walk through the lobby like any ordinary patron," he told her with a wink. "This is the stage door I always drop off Helen at. Have fun and be good!" he told her. "I don't want to be getting in trouble for taking you here tonight!" he added with a laugh.

Charlotte made a face. "You obviously underestimate me, Lewis."

"You're right," Topher nodded with a grin. "I must have been thinking of the other Carey kid." Charlotte laughed and shut the car door, waving goodbye to Topher as he drove away from the curb. But she had to admit it was nice-being called the Carey's kid. Although she still felt miffed when she was called a child, it was nice to be called Helen and Lewis' child. It made her feel like she belonged even more. It was a wonderful feeling.