Inevitable and Only(48)

“Dad doesn’t want to go anyway. I asked him if Zephyr could use his ticket and he agreed right away.”

“Huh. That’s weird. I thought he really loved going to see plays with you.”

I felt myself getting annoyed at Raven for taking Dad’s side. “He did, before he had another, better daughter to spend time with.”

Raven snorted. “That’s just melodramatic.”

“Well, melodrama is another one of my best skills.”

“And that’s why you’re the star in the school play.” Raven grinned at me and, thankfully, changed the subject. “Renata and Ruby are so excited to see you make your debut. They keep talking about it. I’m just warning you—I think they’re both going to throw bouquets of flowers at you when you take your curtain call.”

It was my turn to snort. “Yeah … if I actually finish learning my lines.”

“Want to come over and run lines with me after school? And then you can quiz me on my debate points.”

It was hard to stay annoyed at Raven for long.



Our Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? tickets were for Friday night, opening night. I gave Zephyr his ticket while we packed up our bags after drama class on Friday.

“Sweet, thanks!” he said. “If it’s really good, maybe I can get tickets for us to see it again tomorrow. I love seeing the same show two nights in a row, don’t you?”

“Really? I’ve never done that before.” He might want to spend two evenings in a row with me?

“Oh, it’s the best! You get to see all kinds of things about the production’s consistency, which parts the actors were improvising. Sometimes you get to see the B cast and compare. In New York, we used to get rush tickets for three performances in one weekend sometimes, if we could get them cheap enough.”

In New York … with his theater camp friends? Who was “we”?

I tried to keep my head in the conversation. “So, do you want to meet there?”

“Nah, I can come pick you up. Where do you live?”

“Hampden.”

“Perfect, I’m just over in Waverly. I’ll come get you at seven thirty; that should give us plenty of time.”

I took out my phone. “I’ll text you my address.”

“No, my phone’s dead,” he said. “Here, just tell it to me.” He was holding a pen poised over his arm.

So I told Zephyr Daniels my address, and he wrote it on his skin. In ink.

Oh, the melodrama! I heard Raven’s voice say in my head. Oh, swoon!

Stop it, I told the voice. He just forgot to charge his phone.

Zephyr capped his pen and scooped up his bag. “Great, see you later.”

See? Definitely nothing romantic in that tone of voice.

Robin was standing by the door, frowning at us. “Zephyr. Hold on a minute. I have a few notes for you from rehearsal last night.”

Zephyr looked at him, surprised. “Okay …”

I was surprised, too. I’d barely heard Robin address two words to Zephyr so far. I assumed it was because he was doing such a great job, Robin didn’t have much to tell him. And Robin was always busy correcting something much more urgent, like someone who was flailing around (cough, cough, Rina) or missing their cues (Sam), or else arguing with Peg about the costume and lighting budget (pretty much nonexistent, from what I’d overheard).

Zephyr shrugged a shoulder at me and said, “Ciao.”

“Ciao, ciao, ciao!” I repeated, like an idiot, and walked promptly into the left side of the double doors, the side that was always locked.

“Are you okay?” I heard Zephyr asking behind me, but I pulled open the right side of the door and fled.

Well, it was official. I’d definitely asked Zephyr on a date. Those seemed to be the telltale signs: when I started babbling and walking into things.

Zeus almighty.



I mentioned to Mom on the way home from school that Zephyr would be picking me up at seven thirty.

“In his car?”

“I didn’t ask. Maybe he has a motorcycle?”

“Acadia!”

“Just kidding, Mom. Yes, in his car.”

“Well, we don’t know this boy at all.”

“Mom. You’re the head of school, you know every student. You could’ve pulled his file to look up his grades and behavior record, if you’d wanted to.”

“No comment,” said Mom, crisply.

I glanced into the rearview mirror. Elizabeth and Josh, in the back seat, were hanging on to every word with identical expressions of shock mixed with glee on their faces. They really did look like siblings.

“She sighed heavily,” I said, copying Dad’s Shakespearean Tragic Voice before I could stop myself. Good lord. Yes, universe, I recognize that we’re all related. Big whoop. You can stop now.

“Cadie?” said Mom.

“Sorry, I was conversing with the universe in my head.”

She frowned at me. “I was saying that I would like to meet this boy before he whisks you off in his car. I’d like to at least feel that I’ve done my duty as a mother to determine whether he’s a reliable driver. I try to keep my work life and my home life separate, you know.”

“All right, Mom, fine. We’ll pretend you’ve never met him before, and I’ll invite him in to say hello before we leave.”