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Authors: Denise Kim Wy

Understudy (16 page)

BOOK: Understudy
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"You're right. This is my first time," I said, and I almost told him the reason why.

Eric glanced at me long and hard. The stubble around his jaw made him look older. I had always wondered how Adam would've looked like if he had stopped shaving for a while.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. Why?" Then he immediately added, "Is that what kept you from coming here? Scared that you might see his ghost?"

I started laughing. It came in a sudden burst and I tried to stop myself by clamping my mouth shut, but I couldn't. It was like releasing something that was trapped inside my body for so long, and it felt good, like peeing the first thing in the morning when you wake up.

Eric stared at me nervously. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but you're scaring the shit out of me."

And that made me laugh more, because I never thought I was capable of scaring anyone, let alone Eric.

"You know I actually came here looking for you," I said, in between chuckles. "I came to apologize for what I said back in the gym."

"Apologize for what? For telling me that I killed my brother?" And there it was, coming from his own lips. "He would've find that funny if he heard that." He lowered his head and his shoulders started shaking.

Great! I made him cry again,
I thought to myself. I took a step closer, thinking if I should pat his back or something. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to−" Then I realized that he wasn't crying.

He put a hand over his stomach and pulled his head back as he roared in laughter. "I'm sorry," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "But god! He would've found that funny!"

And somehow, even though I didn't really find it funny myself, I allowed myself to laugh. Not the fake kind where you do it just so that the other person doesn't feel awkward. But a real laugh, like the outburst I’d  had earlier.

It felt wrong on so many levels. It should've made me angry. My emotions were all jacked up. We were still laughing when a group of mourners passed by. Our laughter slowed down to small giggles, until it eventually died down.

"Do you miss him?" I said a moment later, when everything got quiet.

Eric tilted his head back to the sky and sighed. "Yeah, I do. It's weird." Then looking back at me, he added, "But you know what's more weird? Looking at the mirror and seeing his face looking back at me. I have these moments when I'd forget everything, and I'd crack a smile. But then I'd remember that he was never really thrilled about seeing me, since he considered me the harbinger of doom. It's weird having a dead twin brother."

He was right. Despite the tiredness in his eyes, I saw Adam looking back at me when I looked at Eric. He looked lonely, hurt and alone. "But what if he's not really gone? What if he's still here, somewhere?"

"I want to believe that, too," he said. "He was the only person who understood me."

I suddenly felt the urge to reach for his face and tell him that everything was going to be okay. I believed it, and as if having felt it too, Eric smiled. And for the first time since he came into town, it didn't bother me.

 

Chapter Nineteen

Eric

 

Aside from the wilderness, a high school hallway is the closest thing to a vulture's nest. At least, that's what I thought as I walked down the busy halls on my way to my locker, feeling all eyes hungrily watching my every move. A lot of students missed school all the time, but the way they whispered among themselves, you'd think I committed a crime punishable by death. I found out later that a gossip had spread around that I tried to kill myself. I wasn't sure where that came from, but it sure made my day.

I punched in my combination, pretended to look around my almost empty locker, grabbed a pen and slammed the door shut, just in time to see Kat walking down the hall with Sara.

Kat wore a pink shirt that made her cheeks look more alive. And as I watched her, I realized that she never wore any make up, and that I had never seen her wearing skirts or clothes that showed too much skin. Also, she seemed to be always distracting herself with something. It was either her clipboard (which she was staring at now), or her wrist watch.

She slowly raised her head to nod at something Sara had said. And as she passed by where I stood, our eyes met for a moment, perhaps a second too long. I expected her to look away, she usually did. But not this time. Her eyes crinkled just a little bit, as her lips spread to what I thought might be a smile. It all happened so fast, yet in that small amount of time, I felt a connection between us. Like somehow, the time we spent laughing like maniacs in front of Adam's grave had made us members of a secret group. I just hoped that the cemetery wouldn't become our mutual sanctuary as well. I wondered if she felt the same. Or maybe the smile was just her way of saying hi.

It was all I could think of as I sat behind her during homeroom and all throughout Calculus. I kept on waiting for her to turn around, maybe ask me something about the leg brace, or how I was feeling. Or maybe I should be the one asking her that.

But as the hours dragged on, talking to her felt like a monumental task. I found myself staring at her during lunch, watching her every move. I took note of how she would stare unseeingly from time to time, like she was always deep in though. Then she would glance at her watch and frown as if time was moving very slow. As if she had to be somewhere else.

"Eric, it's your cue."

I wanted to get to know her more. I wanted to know what made her smile. Because seeing her smile made everything better.

"ERIC!"

"What?" My gaze shifted towards the voice beside me. It was Blythe Mansen a.k.a Mrs. Cratchit, my stage mother. I had totally forgotten I was on stage.

"Right. What's my line again?" I looked around our current setting. We were seated around the table with Bill a.k.a Bob Cratchit at the head and the rest of my stage siblings scattered around. Everybody's eyes were on me, all expectant. And that's when I remembered we were doing the Christmas dinner scene.

"Oh yeah. God bless us, every one!"

Somewhere down the stage, Mr. Blake said, "Let's take five!"

Everyone stood up from their seats at once, but I opted to stay behind and scan the whole room for Kat. Instead, I saw Sara standing across the table looking down at me with the familiar scowl she always wore around me.

"Oh, nice to see you, too," I said, giving her a genuine smile.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Taking a break. How about you?"

"You know what I mean," she said, and when I noticed the way her hands were resting against the edge of the table, I discreetly distanced myself from it for fear that she might flip the whole thing over.

"Look, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I want you to stay away from Kat."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't need you."

"Did she say that?"

"She doesn't have to."

"So you're just assuming."

Sara crossed her arms and bit her lip. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but keep Kat out of it. You may be Adam's brother but that doesn't give you the right to act as if you give a damn about her."

"Who said I do?"

"You’ve been watching her the whole time."

"So I take it that you were watching me the whole time as well? That's flattering."

She opened her mouth to speak, but she ended up closing it again as her face turned red with anger. "Look, I don't like you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I don't like you," she repeated. "And I don't think I ever will. But Kat is a good person, and I won't be surprised if a day comes that she'll completely forgive your undeserving ass. But remember this. If you ever hurt her, be it intentional or not,  I'm going to kill you with my bare hands."

"Wow, she's lucky to have a best friend like you."

"You bet she is." She glared at me one last time and I responded with the friendliest smile I could muster. She left without saying another word.

It was nice to know that someone cared for Kat that much, and I couldn't help but wonder if such a person existed in my life now that Adam was dead.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Dude, what's that all about?" It was Drake.

"I don't know. PMS?"

"Yeah, I don't really get that either. But what do you think of her?"

"What? Sara?"

"She's hot, huh?"

Drake was one of those guys who knew they looked good but pretended that they didn't care. He was a jock with a brain that actually worked. At least he didn't just talk to me out of pity for my brother. He actually reminded me of Anthony. I wondered if Adam got along well with him.

"Totally not my type, but she's not bad," I said. "At least when she's not going around threatening people."

His eyes narrowed as he considered this. "Right. She’s got some spunk. I prefer a girl like that way better than a damsel in distress."

"Not to be gross or anything, but you do realize that in Britain, spunk is slang for semen, right?"

Drake raised an eyebrow and winced. "God, you're one of those smarty pants, huh? I didn't know that, but thanks for the trivia." He clapped my shoulder and headed backstage.

"Don't mention it," I muttered under my breath as I brought my attention back to finding Kat, but I couldn't see her anywhere. I glanced at my watch; five past four. She probably went home.

 

Chapter Twenty

Kat

 

The first time I had my period, I thought that the very first person I'd tell after my mom was Sara. I even considered telling her first depending on the circumstances. It was all we talked about during sixth grade, as the girls in our class started having theirs. It wasn't as if they were broadcasting it, but word spread around and soon, almost every girl in our  class had theirs.

Mine started not long after, and I remember running to my mom to break the news. I felt excited, like somehow, having my period validated my femininity, not that I doubted it. I couldn't wait to tell Sara, and I thought that I'd spill the news to her first thing on Monday.

But when Monday finally came, my lips were sealed tight. I didn't even understand why I was so excited to tell her that I had my period. It felt awkward. I mean, how is it exciting to tell anyone that blood is coming out of your private parts? It's crazy, not to mention disgusting. And she didn't tell me about hers anyway, not until a few weeks later when we she came over to my house for a Halloween sleepover.

Neither of us were interested in dressing up or participate in any festivities that involved lots of candies and fake blood. But then, we ended up watching the original Carrie movie, which of course involved a lot of fake blood.

"I think she's overreacting," Sara said. We were lying on our stomachs in front of the TV screen, eating barbecue flavored fries from a pumpkin shaped ceramic bowl as Sissy Spacek screamed for help. "I mean sure, it's her first time having her period and she didn't know the whole concept of fertility or something, but to think that she's dying?"

"She thought she was bleeding to death," I said.

Sara rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have thought that I was bleeding to death if it was me."

I kept my eyes glued on the screen, pretending to be engrossed with the movie despite having watched it a hundred times. I didn't know about her, but talking to her about periods made me uneasy. Like somehow she knew that I was keeping something from her.

We were both silent for awhile, and the topic was forgotten. We heard the front door open, and though I didn't see who it was, I knew it was Mom coming home from the supermarket.

"Mom, did you remember to buy those chocolate chips Dad has been nagging us about?"

Mom paused on her way to the dining room with the paper bags in her arms. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, I completely forgot! I remembered your tampons though," she said, as she continued down the hall.

The movie was still playing, but at that exact moment, it felt as if everything had ceased to exist except for Sara, who was staring at me like I just floated from the floor. I felt my face heat up.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, not being able to look at her straight in the eyes.

"Sorry for not telling me or for having me hear about it from your mom?"

"Both."

Sara shook her head and turned her attention back to the screen. I peered at her face to see if she was angry, but her lips were twitching.

"It's okay, I'm not entirely innocent either," she said.

It was my turn to stare at her.

"No way?!"

"Yes way!" she said. "You're not the only one capable of keeping secrets around here."

Then we started laughing. From that moment on, there was literally no secrets between us. There was nothing Sara didn't know about me, even when Adam became my boyfriend. It even annoyed her at times.

"Girl, I can totally become Adam's substitute girlfriend from all the things you're throwing at me," she had said one time. "I'm not really sure if I should be flattered or scared."

"Yeah, I know. But I can't help it. It just makes me feel good to have a sponge like you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

"I like that you're not afraid to tell me what you think, especially if I'm being stupid. You're kinda helping me set my life in the right direction. Sort of."

"Wow, I'm not really sure if becoming Mother Teresa is an upgrade from being a sponge, but thanks?"

I pulled her in for a tight embrace after that, grateful to have a friend like her, knowing that whatever happened, I'd always have my sponge.

But now, as I sat in a booth in the far corner of Marty's Diner, pretending to read a book that had been on the same page for about an hour, I had never felt so alone. I’d just got back from meeting Adam, and I practically spent the whole day listening to Sara talk about the play, and how she hated Drake. In fact, she seemed to talk about Drake a lot lately.

I didn't tell her about what happened in the cemetery, and she didn't ask. Not that she wasn't interested, but I knew that she was waiting for me. That's what I liked about her, she respected my personal space. But, Sara wasn't perfect. Even when she pretended to take a step back, I could feel her itching to jump on my shoulders and shake everything out of me. She may be a good actress on stage, but in real life, she couldn't keep a poker face.

BOOK: Understudy
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