The Truth About Fragile Things (12 page)

“How are your parents?” she asked.

“They’re good.” I watched a cyclist wind down the path, his back bent and stained with sweat. I gave myself permission to think as he passed. When he disappeared back into the pine trees I forced my tongue to lift my leaden words. “They are grateful.” Melissa stiffened beside me. I had put a gauntlet down. We were going to say the hard things and we both knew it. “I am so sorry, Melissa. I will always be so sorry.” I flinched at how meaningless those words sounded and waited.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. She gave my hand a quick pat. An unsatisfactory pat. It was neither here nor there. Neither forgiveness nor hatred.

I took a fast breath and glanced at her but she refused to look me in the eyes. It was a cold gift, civilized and vague. A pat. A sentence I couldn’t interpret. Maybe I had hoped for a hug, a confession, a closure. It was nothing that I wanted and exactly what I deserved. A shiver ran down my arms as she stood and made her way back to her husband.

When the cake was gone and goodbyes were said, Phil and I sent them on their way to finish their ride, promising that we preferred to do the cleanup ourselves.

“Thank you again for a great surprise,” Dave called out. Henry gave Phil a shy high five and a fist bump and followed his father.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Charlotte told us after her mother left. “It was a good cake.”

“Bye, Charlotte,” I sighed. I didn’t have anything left for her at the moment and she took the hint.

“Tryouts after school Monday,” Phillip yelled.

When we were alone under the fluttering crepe paper and balloons I grabbed his arm and tugged him down beside me on the bench.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I just shook my head and held onto him. Why can’t anyone else ever learn the quiet trick? You just wait. Wait until the other person finds their words.

“I think it went well,” he said softly.

I shook my head again. “Sh.”

He let the sounds of the kids on the playground fill in the empty spaces before he spoke again. “Megan, it’s not your fault.”

I imagined the sound of squealing brakes and put my head on his shoulder.

“Liar.”

I
managed
to avoid Charlotte all day Monday until the last bell rang and she met me outside the auditorium for auditions. Even after two days my chest still smoldered when I thought of the surprise party and Melissa’s shocked face. I tried not to look at her more than necessary while Phillip filled out our audition sheets.

“First three on the list can go in now,” a sophomore announced from the stage doors. We signed up as the last group so we had more time than anyone else to practice. Or psych ourselves out. It works both ways.

Phillip pulled us both into the shelter of the Mrs. Schatz’s doorway and put his hands on Charlotte’s shoulders. “You just play. That’s why they call it a
play
. If you try to remember, or recite, or even think, you will wreck it.”

Charlotte swallowed, looked to me. “I won’t get a part. But this counts? If I go out there and try out then we can cross it off the list and be done with the whole stupid thing, right?”

“Only if you perform.” I pointed my finger at her chin and gave it a firm shake. “If you just read it or say the words to get it over with then you’re not performing. Your dad said he wanted to perform on a stage, so that’s what you have to do to make it count.” I kept my voice low enough to discourage the curious students around us from eavesdropping.

“I still think it’s dumb,” she said. “It’s like a game of dress up for grownups where you ask people to clap for you at the end. Begging for affirmation much?” she asked.

Phillip sighed. I could see him kissing his tryout goodbye.

“Do you think we need the applause?” When I spoke the word “applause” came out coated in disgust. Maybe Charlotte was rubbing off on me. “Do you think they clap for us? They clap for Dotty and Lloyd and whoever we’re supposed to be. They clap because for a few minutes we made them forget their girlfriend broke up with them or their car has a bad fuel pump.”

“Good job knowing a car part,” Phil interrupted.

I accepted his congratulations with a quick nod and continued. “The only thing I need out there is to completely and utterly forget everything, including myself. Especially myself. That is all the stage is for me. It has nothing to do with applause.”

Charlotte mulled that over for a minute; let her proud shoulders relax an inch.

“Actually, I do it for the applause,” Phil said. “And all the girls who want to make out with me at the cast party.”

“Thank you. That was really helpful,” I snapped. “And name one girl who has ever, ever—”

“You saw her come on to me.”

“Yeah, that was a real conquest, Phil.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Charlotte hissed.

I smacked his chest before I returned my attention to her. “Charlotte, use your personality to your advantage. Don’t do it to get approval. Get up there because you know who you are and you don’t care what anyone thinks. That’s why you’re standing up there above them. Do it to show them how much you don’t care.”

“She is not that bitter,” Phil said.

“Maybe I am,” Charlotte argued. “Because I can totally do that. I couldn’t figure out how to beg them to like me, but if I’m getting up there to show them how stupid they are, then…”

“See?” I said. “You
are
Dotty. You are a screwball, forget-everything, second-rate actress who knows she is still better than everyone else.”

“You know, now that you mention it, she is Dotty,” Phil agreed.

“I am Dotty,” Charlotte confirmed. “And I want those sardines.”

We ran the scene for the next forty five minutes while the line of over a hundred students whittled down to the last few, the stragglers looking sicker and more scared with every passing minute. Faces emerge from the stage doors, flushed, hopeful, nauseated. Charlotte was right—she couldn’t hope for a real part, but the list was what mattered now.

“Last is good,” I reassured her when a girl came out crying on her friend’s shoulder. “Schatz will remember you. Everyone else is just a blur by now. She’s already seen all these people say the same thing over and over. We have to make this fresh.”

“I am so fresh,” Phil whispered. “Wanna see how fresh I am?”

“I wouldn’t make out with you if it was in a script,” I shot back.

“That’s just low.”

“Our turn,” Charlotte said in a husky, determined voice.

Phillip enveloped her small hand in his, her fingers lost under his strong grip. “You own this.” He walked her to the edge of the curtains and only let go when we all stepped onto the stage.

We gave our names and grades, mostly just to observe formalities. Drama teachers must avoid the appearance of favoritism, no matter how real it is. Schatz looked surprised to see us paired with a freshman she’d never met, but she told us to proceed.

I started us off, trying to make sure I got everything rolling in the right direction before I handed off the scene. Then it was Phillip and Charlotte. Her voice faltered at the end of her first line and I flinched and closed my eyes. But a moment later Phil’s rich voice spread over the mistake, bandaging her flaw. She must have sensed his control because she trusted him. I couldn’t tell if I was hearing success or just wishing for it, but I knew without a doubt she wasn’t embarrassing us.

Phil stomped up to her, the ridiculous words rolling off his tongue effortlessly. He got to the part where he had to spin her around to face him. I watched her eyes go wide, her hair swing in the spotlight, the shadow of their bodies stretched over the floor. She stood up to him, returned his banter, the lines coming easier every time she opened her mouth. She performed. When Schatz thanked them I pulled in a long breath to make up for the one I’d held.

They exited stage left and Charlotte was the first one to me. She beamed with a flushed face.

“Charlotte, you’re happy!” I said. “Genuinely happy.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘genuinely.’” She countered.

Phil crushed us both with a hug and I was glad for the excuse to feel her soft cheek against my shoulder.

“You rocked,” Phil said. He said it to her. Not me. But I didn’t mind because she looked so proud of herself. Outside, under the low clouds of the September day, I pulled out my copy of Bryon’s list.

“That’s three down,” I told them.

“Is it time for skinny dipping yet?” Phil asked.

“Absolutely,” Charlotte swaggered the word through her mouth like a purr. “Meet us at the river tonight at midnight. And if we’re not there, start without us.”

I laughed harder than she did.

P
hil met me
outside school the next morning and greeted me with one word. “Callbacks.”

“Charlotte?” I asked.

“Callbacks.”

“She made callbacks?” I waited for him to confirm, but he just smiled. “Are you serious?” I gave him a fast, excited hug. “Thanks to you. If Schatz pairs her with someone else, I don’t think she’ll make it.”

“She’s the only freshman on the list. It’s a short list, Megan.” His eyes flashed with pride.

“Oh, no. Alicia?” I asked in a low whisper.

“She’s on it. Schatz must have liked her Australian accent.” He scratched his nose to conceal his ironic smile. “Turn left,” he directed me. “You don’t want to go through the ring of despair.”

I gave one quick glance at the crowd of hanging heads and wet eyes gathered around the callback list outside Schatz’s door and obeyed Phil. It was too early for devastation.

After school Alicia ran up to Phil and me outside the stage doors. Judging from Charlotte’s nervous twitches at lunch I had a feeling she was taking her time and walking slowly. Whatever she said, she was scared.

Alicia hugged us both and gave a little squeal. “We can pair up. How should we do it? We’re supposed to go in groups of two.”

I took the script from her hand. There were three scenes: one for two boys, one for two girls, and one for a boy and a girl.

“Schatz said to pick a partner and do a scene.” Alicia’s eyes shifted and I knew she was worried Phil and I would abandon her and go in together. “Do not leave me with Taylor. Her push-up bra has her girls bumping into her chin today. Every time Braden is in charge of the booth she acts like a dog in heat.”