Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(26)

I stare at her in disbelief. “Really? Seriously? Are you kidding?”

“I’ll have to ask around,” she says. “It could take a few days. When do you need it by?”

Coop’s got an excited gleam in his eyes. “We still have a few things to iron out.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “We have to cast, of course. And Sean needs to finish writing the script but . . . Maybe two weeks?”

Evelyn nods slowly, pensively. “Yeah. Okay. I can’t make any promises, but I think I can work something out by then. I’ll let you know. Anything else you need?”

“Sure. Some lighting would be nice. Microphones. A DSLR for publicity stills.” Coop laughs. “Seriously, though, if you can get the camera, you’d be a hero.”

“Awesome, possum,” Evelyn says, bouncing in her seat. “This is going to be a blast.”

We spend the rest of the lunch period discussing the film. Coop lays out the basic plot for the girls so that they can get a sense of the outfits, and songs, and props we’ll need. Honestly, I expected them to treat this like a bit of a joke. But they actually seem pretty into it. And seeing their excitement makes me think that maybe, just maybe, Coop may actually have hit the jackpot here.

When the bell rings, everyone gets up from the table, grabbing their trays as they go.

I start to stand when Evelyn grasps my arm.

“One sec,” she says. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” I settle back down and lift my chin toward my friends. “Catch you guys later.”

“Adios, muchachos,” Coop says with a point of his finger gun.

“Bye.” Evelyn smiles and waves. Then she turns on me with this intense look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were making a movie?” Her fingers grip my wrists like handcuffs.

“What?” I try to pull my hands away but she’s not letting go. “We did tell you.”

“No, you didn’t. Helen told me. So she obviously knew before me.”

“We only just told them. Before you came in. Could you . . . let go of my wrists, please?”

Evelyn glances down at her clenched hands. “Oh, sorry.” She laughs and releases me. “I’m just . . . It was embarrassing, that’s all. You know, in front of everyone like that. I mean, I am your girlfriend, right? So, I should kinda know when you’re doing something so big.”

“We only decided on doing it a little while ago.” I rub my reddened wrists. “I would have told you eventually. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Evelyn’s right eye squints up like someone squirted her with grapefruit juice. “I just . . . I just . . . Uh-uh . . . No . . . This is not . . . No!” She lets out this low growling sound. Like she’s a constipated Rottweiler or something.

I glance around the nearly empty cafeteria to see if anyone else is catching this. But the few stragglers who are left are all self-involved. I look back at Evelyn, who appears to be going purple.

“Are . . . are you okay?” I ask.

All of a sudden, her face completely relaxes, her skin returning to its natural pink color. She takes a deep breath and wrenches a smile from her lips. “I’m fine. You’re right. I’m overreacting. I’m sorry.” Evelyn laughs, like what just happened was not the freaky thing it really was. “It’s all good. Seriously.” She pats my leg. “I’m going to get you your camera, Sean. You’ll see. Don’t you worry.”

“Uhhh, yeah.” I feel myself leaning away, like maybe her madness is catching. “Sure. Okay. Sounds good.”

Evelyn stands, brushing something — the wackies? — from her jeans. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?” She stares at me, a trace of the evil spirit still lingering in her watery brown eyes. “For our Web Design tutoring?”

“Oh.” God, I forgot all about that. I had to reschedule due to Uncle Doug. But I kind of assumed she wouldn’t hold me to it. I mean, I’m probably still reeling from visiting my dying uncle and everything, right? But there’s no way in hell I’m canceling on her right now, not when she still looks like her head could start spinning around. “Yeah. Of course. Tomorrow. Right. What time did we say?”

“Six o’clock.” She grins. “You’re in for a big surprise, mister.”

“Great,” I say, a puddle of acid pooling in my stomach. “I . . . I can’t wait.”

“Me, either.” She lunges toward me and grabs my head, squashing her face into mine as she administers a gaping-mouthed saliva-soaked kiss to my lips, chin, and the bottom half of my nose. There’s a loud slurping-up-spaghetti sound as she pulls away. “Boyfriend!” she squeals. “I love that we found each other, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” I say, trying to casually wipe off my upper lip with my lower one.

Evelyn gives me a little four-finger wave. “See you soon, raccoon!”

She turns and bounces out of the cafeteria.





“NOW IT’S RAIN!” Mr. Nestman calls out, his hands cupped around his mouth. This is the fourth improv “event” he’s had us react to today. So far we’ve had to deal with an imaginary blizzard, a thick fog, and phantom falling trees.