The Pretty One(26)

“Auditioning? You mean for your play? For your independent study?”

He nods, but his eyes keep darting around like he’s distracted.

“Yes,” I say, a little too enthusiastically.

“Great. We’re holding auditions next week.”

“Yeah, okay.” I follow him down the steps. It rained earlier and the marble is still slick and wet.

“Are you parked around here?” he asks.

“No. We live a couple blocks away.”

“That’s right. I forgot. I drove Lucy home one day last year.”

Silence.

The corner where we will part ways is quickly approaching. He will go to the left (toward the parking garage) and I will go to the right (toward my house). I have about 200 seconds left to wow him with my sparkling conversation—199 seconds…198 seconds. Think. What were Lucy’s instructions again? Question…tease, touch! What’s a good question? Why can’t I think of a good question? 195 seconds. 194…

“I wish I lived around here,” he says. “Towson’s a hike.”

I forget all about asking a brilliant question as Drew grins at me. Even though I’m so excited to be with him that my heart is banging a million miles a minute, there’s something about his smile that makes me feel relaxed and happy at the same time.

“Whenever my mom can’t find a parking spot she talks about moving to suburbia,” I say. “But I think she’s afraid that all the women out there wear Lilly Pulitzer and spend their time squeezing melons at the grocery store.”

“What does she have against melons?”

I laugh. “She’s always been antimelon. She’s in therapy, but it doesn’t seem to help.”

His grin turns into a smile, enough to give me another tickle in the base of my belly. We’re at the corner. Our time together is over.

“Well,” Drew says. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Sounds good!” Once again, I’m displaying extraordinary enthusiasm. Sheesh, I’m pathetic.

Still, as I watch Drew walk up the street toward the parking garage, I realize that this is the first time since my accident that I’m also happy.



When I get home I practically bound up the stairs and into our bedroom, looking for Lucy. She’s sitting on her bed, a manuscript in her lap. She has changed out of her school clothes and into her study-at-home ones, a pink Juicy sweat suit. Her long blond hair is twisted back in a bun, held in place by a pencil.

“How was your meeting with Mrs. Pritchie?” she asks.

“Fine,” I say excitedly. “But guess who I saw after school? Drew Reynolds!”

“Drew?” Lucy tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh my God, that’s so funny! I was just talking to Annie about him. Did he tell you the good news?”

Annie Carmichael is one of my sister’s closest friends, but I can’t really stand her. Not only is she a notorious gossip, she dyes her hair platinum blond, wears a ton of makeup, and talks in this really fake, baby doll voice. I shake my head as I continue to practically dance around the room.

“Annie overheard Mrs. Habersham saying that he’s been chosen to direct the spring musical.”

I stop still. Mrs. Habersham is the head of the drama department. Considering Lucy’s rep for dating the directors of the spring musical, this is not good news. Not good at all.

“Drew?” I ask weakly, hoping and praying that she’ll say something like: Drew? You thought I was talking about Drew? Hah! That’s a laugh!

“He’s so talented,” she says, looking all starry and goo-goo eyed, the way I used to get around Frosted Flakes.

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who should be directing the spring musical.” Read: He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who should be going out with you. “All the past directors have been so…” I think about Lucy’s previous spring musical director boyfriends, Tommy Calvino, Warren Masters. “Preppy.”

“Well, he’s not preppy, that’s for sure,” Lucy says with a laugh. “But he’s got…I don’t know…charisma. And he’s a lot less stuck-up and antisocial than last year.”

I breathe in deep. Maybe it’s not as dire as I think. After all, she’s not talking like someone who has just found the man of her dreams.

“I’m reading his one act right now.”

I look excitedly at the manuscript in her lap. “Is it good?” I take a seat next to her and rest my head on her shoulder in order to get a better look.

“Amazing. The part of the heroine is incredibly juicy. And guess what?” she says, putting down the manuscript and raising her eyebrows at me. “Annie told me that he wrote the part of the heroine for me.”

Say what?

I pick my head up off her shoulder. “For you?”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “Isn’t that cool? I’m totally psyched. I’ve never actually had someone write for me before.”

I scoot a little farther away from her. “How many parts are there?”

“Just two,” she replies. “A boy and a girl.”

Wait, if there is only one girl, and Drew wrote the part for Lucy, why did he ask me to audition?

“Are you chewing your thumb again?” she asks, her brow furrowed.