Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (16 page)

That would be fun.

An edgy sensation came over me. I drummed my fingers on the sunroom window. What if she didn’t forgive me? What if she never let me make it up to her? I shook my head. She had to. We were friends. And friends worked things out. I didn’t know any other way to operate.

Twenty-Nine

Lindsey

Thank goodness I made it out the door with only a quick goodbye to Claire and a promise to talk later. There was no way I could’ve lasted through any questions without letting the tears come. And if I wasn’t going to cry all over Berger again, I certainly wasn’t going to cry in front of everyone else. Why couldn’t I keep it together for even one freaking day?

In the car, I inhaled deeply and steadied my hands on the steering wheel.
You can do this. You can get all the way home without blubbering everywhere. And then you can find some way to get the pain out.
Or dull it. Hopefully Mom and Dad would be so busy they wouldn’t even notice I was home.

I started the car and pulled away from the curb in front of Claire’s house. I didn’t even know why I was so upset. Nick Somerset was a jerk—nothing new there. I never really wanted to go out with him in the first place. I shouldn’t care that he only wanted something from my dad. But I did.

I rubbed at the stinging sensation that radiated along my breastbone. And Berger. Why did it bug me so much that he’d gone behind my back? He said he was only trying to help. Right. He really didn’t trust that I knew what I was doing—with the charms, with believing in luck. Neither did Claire or Rose, for that matter. They all just harped on about me needing time. Time to get over Adam. Time to get over losing the part in the play. Time to get back to the way I used to be.

I drove on, the headlights of other cars becoming one long stream in my peripheral vision. Everyone moved along, pretending we were going somewhere, but instead we were just stuck in that flow without the ability to change course. I tightened my fingers on the steering wheel. See, that was the thing my friends didn’t understand. I couldn’t wait for time to let me out of the stream. I had to do it myself. If I didn’t, I might never be the old Lindsey again.

And I needed her. I needed the strong Lindsey, the confident Lindsey, the Lindsey who laughed when people tried to give her crap. The perfect Lindsey, because that’s when people loved her best. When she was perfect. Or at least, when she had it all together.

And what would perfect Lindsey do? She’d look for a new lucky boy. And she wouldn’t wait for him to sit in the right seat, either. After all, that wasn’t the way she and Adam had started dating. All it had taken were a few looks and smiles, and she’d walked right up to him and asked him out. So why had she been standing around, waiting for a guy to come to her? She was so done with that.

Time for strong Lindsey to take charge. To reinvent herself in drama club and find something that would make people depend on her again. Like helping Mrs. Mac direct the play.

It was a long shot, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

***

I spent most of the Martin Luther King holiday deciding how best to approach Mrs. Mac—oh, and making a list of possible lucky boys—and figured the straight-up method was the best. So, on Tuesday afternoon, I caught Mrs. Mac while she was waiting for everyone to arrive for rehearsal. “Yes, Lindsey?” she asked, three pencils hanging precariously out of her hair and one in between her teeth.

Hmm. A plethora of pencils usually meant she was frazzled. But I couldn’t put it off. I had to ask for what I wanted now or I just might go nuts. I fingered the soft fur of the rabbit’s foot in my jacket pocket. “Mrs. Mac, I’ve been thinking. Since I don’t have a role in the play, I was wondering if I could help direct it. Be your assistant or whatever.”

She removed the pencil from her mouth. “You pretty much already are.”

News to me. “Oh.”

She smiled. “I’ve thought of you that way for a long time. You help me with whatever I need you to do, and for the most part, the other students respect your opinion.”

I couldn’t hold back a smirk at that last part. “So I can be the assistant director?”

“You need a title?”

“Um, yes?”

She laughed. “I don’t think the competition rules allow us to do that. But I certainly don’t mind your help.”

“I’m ready to do whatever I can, Mrs. Mac.”

“Well, good.” She fixated on some distant point for several seconds. “And I’ll get Kara to run lines with Trey.”

Kara Chiu, of the sleek black hair and intense stare. Why did I suddenly want to convince Mrs. Mac not to do that? I couldn’t see Kara teaching Berger anything other than how to add a lilt to your voice at the end of every sentence. Besides,
I
was teaching him. I worked to keep my voice casual. “Kara?”

“Yes, Kara Chiu,” she said, as if I didn’t know the girl. “Since she’s playing Beulah, who we don’t see until the end of the play, she’ll have plenty of time to rehearse with him.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek, and Mrs. Mac tilted her head. “Unless you’d rather work with him after we’re done with rehearsals for the day.”

On the other side of the stage, Lainey Garza laughed at something Berger said and swatted at him. He rewarded her with a grin. I shoved away the spurt of irritation at the sight of them together. “No, no, that’s okay. He can work with Kara.”

“Good. Why don’t you get rehearsal started while I talk to him?”

Nothing like throwing me right to the wolves. But this was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Old Lindsey wouldn’t have thought twice. I swallowed hard. “Sure.”

Mrs. Mac clapped her hands. “All right, folks, gather over here, please. Lindsey will be starting us out today.” She crossed the stage to intercept Berger as he approached.

Parker hopped to attention in front of me, blocking my view of the others, who edged closer. “Command me, O wise one.”

I waved him out of the way with a smile. “All right,” I called out so everyone could hear me. “Let’s take our places for the opening scene.”

Thirty

Berger

Kara glanced around at the backstage rooms, then slung a long section of dark hair back over her shoulder, and leaned closer.

What was going on? Why couldn’t she just say the next line? She was apparently a master of the dramatic pause. I scooted my folding chair back an inch and waited.

She narrowed her eyes. “You know, I don’t tell a lot of people about this, but I’m getting the feeling you might understand it.” Her voice lifted on the last couple of words—almost like she was singing them.

“Um, wait. We’re supposed to be rehearsing.”

“In a sec.” She dug a slip of paper out of her pocket. “I keep this ready in case I meet someone who would be appropriate.” She held it out to me.

“Okay,” I said, taking it from her automatically. I unfolded the paper and saw a URL that included the words “UFO sightings.”
You’ve got to be kidding.
The girl with the gorgeous, long black hair and the weird way of talking was interested in aliens? And she thought I would be
appropriate
? Just what exactly did that say about me?

She watched me with such an intense gaze that I scooted back another inch.
It would be super mean to laugh in her face, wouldn’t it?
I pressed my lips together. “So, UFOs, huh?”

“Yes.”

That was it? No explanation? Was she waiting for me to express my love for them or something?

She leaned even closer. “There are sightings all the time. Aliens are probably around us every day,” she said, her voice rising again.

I looked around. Was I being pranked? I wouldn’t put it past Lindsey to do something like this—except that things still weren’t back to normal between us after our fight. “Sounds cool.”

She smiled. “I thought you might think so.” Voices and footsteps echoed toward us. Kara’s gaze flicked to the front of house, then back to me. “Just check out the website.”

I nodded, beyond grateful for whoever was coming.

“… really doesn’t mean anything by it,” a girl’s voice said.

“Ha, right. Miss Queen always thinks she knows—” Marta broke off when she saw us sitting there. “Oh, hey, what’re y’all doing here?”

She and Lainey stood shoulder to shoulder, both a little pink in the face. Probably wondering how much we’d heard of their conversation, which, if I had to guess, was about Lindsey’s directing them today.

“We’re rehearsing,” Kara sang out.

“I’m still the resident noob actor,” I said. “Everybody has to help me. You guys should watch out. You’ll probably have to do it soon, too.”

Marta huffed out a laugh. “I doubt it.”

Lainey grinned and ran a hand through her blond-streaked dark hair. “I wouldn’t mind.”

I smiled back. Yup, I was right. She
had
been flirtier recently. It was probably about time I asked her out. “Good. I’ll put you on the list for Mrs. Mac.”

Marta grabbed Lainey’s arm. “Come on. We only have a few more minutes before we have to get back.”

Lainey waved as she was towed away. “See ya.”

“Bye,” I said, watching them walk away.

Kara cleared her throat. “Okay, where were we?” She flipped the pages of her script.

Right. Back to our lines. No need to keep staring at Lainey’s backside. Or wonder what exactly Lindsey was doing to upset Marta.

Thirty-One

Lindsey

“Wait, guys,” I called out. “Let’s do that last exchange again, this time with a little more subtlety.”

Marta scowled at me. She wasn’t even trying to hide her irritation anymore. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it. If she wasn’t going to do her best in the scene, then I’d make her redo it until she did.

“Subtlety?” Mike asked.

Not that he needed it. This was all about Marta’s overacting. “Yeah, just tone everything down a little.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

They went through the lines again, but Marta’s voice was so tight she sounded like someone had autotuned her to a high soprano. I inhaled deeply, getting ready to ask them to do it again, when Mrs. Mac spoke in my ear. “I’m calling it for today. She’s too angry to make it work.”

Uh-oh.
Was Mrs. Mac mad at me? I’d only been trying to make the play better.

Our teacher stood and motioned everyone forward. Mike, Marta, Lainey, and Blake got out of the pretend car and strolled to the edge of the stage. Parker walked up next to them. “Very good, everyone,” Mrs. Mac said. “We’ll pick up here tomorrow.”

Once they’d turned toward the wings, she angled her head at me. “So, here’s your first lesson as a director. If your actors are too angry to listen to you, nothing is accomplished. Keep that in mind for tomorrow, all right?”

“Okay. But I’m not sure how to keep from making”—I lowered my voice—“from making Marta angry. We don’t usually get along as it is.”

Mrs. Mac felt above her ear for a pencil, but for some reason there weren’t any. She let her hand drop. “Look for the things she’s doing well and make sure you compliment those things. It should help.”

I stood. “Okay, thanks. I’ll try that.”

***

The next afternoon, Mrs. Mac started the rehearsal first, then let me take over ten minutes in. At different times, I complimented Marta on her stage presence, Mike on his delivery, Lainey on her body language, and Blake on his antics playing the boy Arthur—although I really thought Berger could do it better. Marta was more relaxed than yesterday and had stopped giving me teeth-sucking looks. But she was still turning Ma Kirby’s character into a cartoon, and my jaw hurt from clenching.

At one point, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Okay, so, Marta, could you repeat that line as if you were bored?”

She looked confused. “Bored?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess.” She said her line in a monotone.

“Perfect,” I said. “See, somewhere in between that and the previous take on it is probably where Ma Kirby lives.”

She frowned and chewed on her lower lip. “Okay,” she finally said, and I let out a quiet exhale.

Mrs. Mac stood. “All right, five-minute break, everybody.” She sat back down beside me. “Good job. Very diplomatic. I think you finally got through to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if this changes everything.”

“Thanks.”

She headed out of our row of seats. I scratched my head. Why couldn’t she see that we wouldn’t be wasting so much time on this if I was up there instead of Marta? I should’ve been up there. It was ridiculous. I got up to stretch my legs and found Berger waiting at the end of the row, his expression determined.

Dang it.
He was going to ask me about our fight again, and I just didn’t want to talk about it. I’d have to put him off. I approached slowly.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked.

“What?”

“The play.”

“Oh, no.” I rubbed my head, then flicked my hand. “Just have a headache.”

He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, making him look crazy cute all of a sudden.
No.
Do not think of Berger as cute. No good can come from it.
“You busy after this?” he asked. “We still need to settle things.”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to settle. We’re good. No worries.”

He backed up so I could get into the aisle. “Why don’t I believe you?”

I lifted my hands. “Hey, I don’t know. That’s not something I can control.”

“Lindsey,” he said, staring as if he could see inside my head.

And I really didn’t want anyone analyzing me. “I need to get to the restroom before we start again.”

“I’m not letting go of this.”

“I can see that.”

“Trey,” Lainey called from the stage. “Come here for a sec.” Kara stood behind her a few steps, motioning to him.