Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (11 page)

She touched my forearm. “Just go look.”

“Okay.” I started to go, but then stopped and looked back. “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Sure,” she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

I walked on, pretty sure I wasn’t going to like what I was about to see. I neared the group of six people clustered around the paper posted outside Mrs. Mac’s office. A girl swept by me so fast that I actually felt a breeze.
Good grief.
She stuck her dark head in front of the others reading the list, then let out a sharp, “Whoop!” She broke out of the crowd, her pink cheeks gleaming. “Yes! I can’t believe it! Yes!”

Marta Kowalski had apparently gotten some very good news. One of the freshman girls grabbed her, and they did a little obnoxious victory dance, mostly composed of twirling in a circle. But that was okay. Guess if you got what you wanted it was cool to be obnoxious—at least for a little while.

“Congrats, Marta,” one of the guys said.

I edged around the celebration and up to the white sheet of paper against the wall. I scanned for Arthur and found the name Blake Lowry beside it. And beside that was written:
Alternate—Trey Berger
. A sinking sensation ran from my chest to my knees.
Well, crap
. I was an alternate. What did Blake have that I didn’t? Besides a whole extra year of experience and being short enough to actually look like a thirteen-year-old.

But hey, a lot of people didn’t get picked for
any
part, so I had that going for me.

A deep voice spoke quietly beside me. “She didn’t get it.” Mike Morales’s stunned expression would’ve been funny if I hadn’t just realized what he meant. “I can’t believe it. This is so weird.”

Right there next to Ma Kirby it said
Marta Kowalski
. And beside that:
Alternate—Lindsey Taylor
. I sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t believe it either.

“I can’t remember the last time she didn’t get the lead in a play,” Mike said, then glanced over his shoulder. “And I have to act with Marta,” he whispered. “That’s seriously messed up.”

My gaze roamed over the list again. Mike had the role of Pa Kirby. “It’ll probably be fine. Just different.” I don’t know why I thought I needed to encourage him.

He continued to stare at the list. “Yeah, different.”

I turned away, smiled at whatever smiling face I saw, and headed back to where I’d left Lindsey. When I got there, she was standing in the same position, like she’d been frozen in time. I stopped next to her and stared across the stage.

“Woo-hoo, alternates unite,” she said, holding up a hand.

Was that just a little too happy sounding? I high-fived her. “Do we have a special initiation or anything?”

She shrugged. “We should probably come up with one.”

I sighed. “How’re you holding up?”

“Okay. It’s just so exhausting.”

“What is?”

“Having to convince everyone I’m okay with it.”

I bumped her with my shoulder. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

She bumped me back. “No. I don’t.”

Why did I feel so light all of a sudden? Did it have to do with Lindsey trusting me? Or was it just that all the pressure of the casting was over and there was nothing weighing me down now?

Lindsey, however, looked like she had an anvil on her chest. “Need to talk?” I asked.

She moved her head slightly to the right so that she was now staring at the auditorium seats. “Maybe later.” She found my hand without looking, squeezed it, then let go.

“Need me to leave?”

“Whatever you want to do, Dragon Boy.”

So I stood there next to her while she stared at whatever the heck she was staring at. And just like yesterday, we didn’t need to talk. We just needed to breathe.

After a few minutes, voices and laughter came from the direction of the office, getting louder and closer. “You ready?” she asked, her eyes shining.

What was she up to? But I had no time to ask, because the group of people had arrived. “Yup,” I said.

She swung around, laughing as though I’d said something hilarious. “Hey, guys! I’m so happy for you.” She hugged each one of them, including Marta, who was still beaming. Mike held on a little longer than the rest, mumbling something into Lindsey’s ear, but she just shook her head and smiled.

Mrs. Mac was right. Lindsey’s acting had artistry—especially when she was playing a difficult role. And this particular version of herself was probably one of the hardest. But she killed it. Of course.

So why did it make me so sad to watch?

Nineteen

Lindsey

My luck clearly needed a boost. And I couldn’t just sit around waiting for it to come to me.

“So I’ve been thinking,” I said, lying on top of Claire’s bed on Saturday afternoon.

“Ruh-row,” Claire said from the floor.

Rose snickered. They were building houses out of LEGOs, a pastime I found so boring I’d rather stare at the dust motes floating through the air. Sunlight beamed through Claire’s window, making it seem like summer outside.

I ignored their joke and fiddled with the charms on my necklace. Would my plan work? I had no idea. But that wasn’t going to stop me.

“Okay,” Rose said, “I give up. What have you been thinking?”

“You know how Adam brought me luck?”

“What?” Claire asked, her voice raised. I could feel the heat of her glare shooting toward me.

I rolled onto my stomach so I could see them better. “Adam brought me good luck. He really did.”

“Have you been smoking something?” Claire asked.

Rose laughed.

“No, listen,” I said, “think about it. We started dating last April. In May I got those two acting awards and I got a B in that stupid PE class I’d been failing because I never showed up. In June my dad was appointed to the golf club’s board of directors—”

“What has that got to do with Adam?” Claire asked.

“—and he’s never been happier, which makes life at home easier for me.” I stuck out my tongue at her. “In July—”

“You got caught sneaking out of the house to go meet Adam and were grounded so you weren’t able to come with me on the cruise,” Rose said, with a
How ya gonna top that?
look.

I smiled. “Which turned out to be good luck for you, because without me you were forced to meet new people, including Sam.”

“Ha,” Rose said. “Still don’t see how being grounded was good luck.”

“My parents were so busy that after four days they let me off the hook, and I got to see Adam, which I wouldn’t have if I’d gone on that trip with you.”

“What has this got to do with anything?” Claire asked, frowning at one of her LEGO figures who’d lost an arm.

“Think of all the bad stuff that’s happened since Adam dumped me.”

Rose moved a strand of her dark blond hair behind her ear. “Isn’t bad stuff after a breakup pretty much normal? I don’t think it has anything to do with luck. It’s because you’re trying to deal with everything while you’re still hurt.”

Apparently Mrs. Mac thought the same thing. I squashed the frustration that welled up with that thought. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided I need a new lucky boy.”

Both of them turned to me wearing frowns.

“Someone to date, you mean?” Rose asked.

I pushed away a feeling of defensiveness. “Well yeah,” I said. “Or just to hang out with.”

“It’s too soon to date again,” Claire said, sliding a little yellow arm onto the LEGO guy.

“It’s been three weeks!” And it felt like three months.

Claire looked up. “We’ve been over this already. You and Adam were serious. You need more time.”

I waved a hand. “Okay, forget the dating part. I need a boy to hang out with who’ll change my luck.”

“What about Berger?” Rose asked.

Claire and I both laughed. Trey Berger was not the first guy that came to mind when I thought about lucky boys.

“What?” Rose asked. “I don’t see anything funny about it. You’re already hanging out with him.”

“That’s true,” I said. “But no good luck so far. In fact, my bad luck has probably rubbed off on him, since we’re both alternates for the play now.”

“You know,” Claire said, “none of those good things you mentioned needed luck for them to happen. They were either the result of hard work or stupidity.”

I laughed. “Say what you really mean, Claire.”

“I’m serious. You don’t need luck, Linds. You just need to feel okay again.”

“Well, I can’t
make
myself do that.”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying you should. You need to let yourself feel like crap for a while.”

“How the heck is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said. “But my dad is always harping on about owning your feelings and junk like that. Like it’s necessary when you’re going through stuff.”

Sometimes I wished I could punch Claire’s therapist dad in the mouth. Too much advice filtered down through Claire. I ran the horseshoe charm on my necklace against my lower lip. “I like the lucky boy idea better,” I mumbled.

Rose laughed. “Who wouldn’t? But let’s say, for argument’s sake, that a lucky boy would help. How can you tell if a guy is good luck or not?”

I grinned. “So, I have this little test.”

“Yeah?” Rose asked with a smile.

I sat up and crossed my legs in front of me. “Adam used to always sit in the same seat in the auditorium. So my plan is to invite a guy to meet me there, and if he sits in or near Adam’s seat, then he has to be lucky.”

Claire frowned. “You’ve already done this, haven’t you?”

“Is that what happened to Jeremy Farina?” Rose asked.

“Yup,” I said. “He didn’t sit anywhere close to the seat.”

Claire nodded super slowly. “I think I like this plan. Odds are no guy will ever pick the right seat and you’ll have plenty of time to get over Adam before starting up with someone new.”

“What?” I threw Claire’s stuffed pig at her.

She caught it. “Don’t hurt Henrietta!”

“Well, that was a mean thing to say.”

She pursed her lips. “But true.”

“Ha,” I said. “You just wait. It’s gonna work.”

“Who are you gonna invite next?” Rose asked, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

Should I tell them? Would that cause bad luck? Ruin the experiment? I fiddled with the beads on my lucky bracelets. “Maybe I shouldn’t say.”

“No way,” Claire said. “You have to tell us.”

I laughed. Oh, what the heck. I wanted to anyway. “Nick Somerset.”

Rose’s mouth fell open. “But he’s so, so … ”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘plaid,’” Claire said. “He’s Mr. Plaid Pants.”

“Boring,” Rose said.

“Maybe,” I said, “but can either of you truly say you know him? We’ve never really given him a chance because he’s so into golf. Getting to know him is my first step. Besides, he wins at golf, so he must have some good luck.”

“Or skill,” Claire said.

“And he is hot,” I said. “Don’t forget that.”

“Right,” Rose said and laughed, “because hot guys have all the luck.”

I pointed at her. “Exactly!”

Claire laughed. “You’ve lost it.”

I smiled. “Maybe so, but sometime next week, Nick will be invited.”

Twenty

Berger

On Monday, Lindsey and I ran lines for about fifteen minutes backstage, but I could tell she wasn’t into it. She kept angling her head toward the front as if she could actually hear the others doing their read-through on stage. After the third time saying a line and having her stare at me blankly, I suggested we take a break.

She blew out a loud breath. “Good idea. I need to use the restroom.” She headed off in the direction of the stage—not the bathroom.

Whatevs. I got up and stretched. I might as well go listen to the read-through, too. I headed for the wings, but surprisingly, Lindsey wasn’t there. Maybe she took a different route to the bathroom. I stepped quietly on stage so I wouldn’t interrupt the people reading and looked out across the darkened auditorium. Not there either. Huh.

Marta read a line as Ma Kirby, and a couple of people sitting in the circle of chairs laughed. Why in the heck would Lindsey want to hear this? It was actually hard listening to people read lines you thought would be yours. They
were
kind of fun to watch, though. Mike, in his usual manic way, squatted on a chair, his head of curly hair bent over his script. Next to him, Parker chewed on the inside of his cheek while he listened.

I either made a noise or Parker sensed me there, because he looked up and then tilted his head sharply to the left. Toward the rows of seats. I looked again. And there was Lindsey, sitting just right of center, six rows up. I had no idea why she was there, but we probably weren’t running any more lines today.

Mrs. Mac let out a cackle that made me jump. “Okay, everyone. Let’s take a five-minute break.”

Chairs squeaked across the boards as people got up. Parker and Mike headed right for me. Oh, yay. The Tool Twins. What now?

They stopped in front of me. “I thought y’all were rehearsing,” Parker said with a frown.

“Taking a break. Just like you.” I looked out over the seats. Lindsey was gone.

“You need to keep her busy,” Parker said.

“Hey, I tried, okay? She was a little distracted.”

Mike looked around. “Lindsey was out here?”

“Quiet,” Parker said to him. “Yeah, she was sitting in his spot.”

Mike swore under his breath. “Seriously? I hate that guy.”

Geez, maybe I could slap both of these two with one swing. I lifted my hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Parker gestured toward the auditorium. “Adam Castro’s seat. Where she was sitting. Don’t you remember him being there all last semester, every frickin’ day?”

Of course I didn’t. Why would I? I’d been ignoring anything and everything that had to do with Lindsey. “Um, nope.”

“Well, pay more attention,” Parker said.

Okay, maybe only Parker needed a pop in the mouth.