Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (6 page)

But I had to tell her something.
Just keep it simple, Linds.
I cleared my throat. “I’m really sorry. My boyfriend and I broke up at the beginning of the holidays, and I’ve been kind of distracted.”

“Distracted.”

I clenched the armrests even harder. Thank goodness they were padded.

She let out a long sigh. “Well. I’m sorry about that for your sake, but I’ve seen you act circles around people despite multiple breakups. I thought you were going to be our Ma Kirby. I still want you to be our Ma Kirby.”

I shut my eyes. Doubt coated every word she said. I wanted to spray her with a hose to make her stop talking.

“Look at me, Lindsey.” I obeyed. “You are my best actor, and I still believe you can do this part. But three, maybe four, other girls had better auditions than you, and I can’t play favorites.”

Something in my chest dropped to my stomach. I didn’t think it was my heart, because that was still in a million pieces. But whatever it was weighted me to the chair like I’d never leave it again.

She scratched the back of her head. “I’m not going to decide right now. There are still the auditions tomorrow. So you’ll have to wait until Friday just like everyone else. But there is something I’d like you to do … basically go the extra mile so I can see that you’re still serious about this play.”

My hands were cramping on the armrests, so I let go. My breath came shallowly. I was too afraid to breathe, too afraid that any noise might make her change her mind. She watched me without speaking, so I finally said, “Yes, ma’am?”

“I want you to work with Trey.”

What did that mean? “Work?”

Mrs. Mac smiled. “He has a wonderful raw talent, but his delivery is too forced. Like he’s thinking too hard. He needs somebody like you to run lines with. Maybe he’ll pick up some of your subtlety. Rehearsing with you should help. Will you do it?”

Thoughts zinged around my mind, the loudest one being,
Oh, hell no!
That was the last thing I needed—to spend time with someone who drove me absolutely bonkers.
But I totally had to. If there was any way it could help me get this part, I would do it. I’d lost Adam. I couldn’t lose acting, too. “Of course,” I said. “I’ll be happy to help.”

Eight

Berger

At Mrs. Mac’s signal, I pushed open the door and strolled down the aisle, trying to pull off an air of,
Hey, the theater teacher wants to talk to me personally. No big deal. Happens all the time.

It totally didn’t work. Halfway down, my sneaker caught on the carpet, and I did a weird shuffle step to get back in rhythm.
Dork alert!
Of course they were watching me. I kept my gaze somewhere in between them. No sense in searching for the smirk that had to be on Lindsey’s face.

Mrs. Mac gestured to the row behind them, so I slid in and dropped into a seat.

“Trey,” Mrs. Mac said, “thank you for waiting. I enjoyed your audition, but there are some things I’d like you to work on. Lindsey has agreed to run lines with you.”

“Oh?”

Lindsey gave me a tight-lipped nod. Looked like she didn’t really want to do this. Not sure I was too pumped about it, either.

“Yes,” Mrs. Mac said. “I think that after a few weeks rehears—”

“Weeks?” Lindsey and I said at the same time.

Mrs. Mac chuckled. “After a few weeks rehearsing together, I think you’ll pick up on some of Lindsey’s artistry.”

Amazingly, Lindsey blushed.

The teacher pulled a pencil from her hair and rolled it between her fingers. “It’ll be good for both of you, I think.”

How?
But I couldn’t say that out loud.

“I’ll expect a report Thursday on how it’s going,” Mrs. Mac said. “So arrange some time between the two of you.” She stood. “Any questions?”

About a million. Including:
Are you trying to make my life a living hell?
But Lindsey shook her head, so I’d go along. For now. “Nope,” I said.

“Good,” Mrs. Mac replied. “Then I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Lindsey and I gathered our stuff and walked out of the theater building, not speaking. What was going through her mind? Couldn’t be anything good. We stopped at the edge of the parking lot, the chilly breeze lifting our hair.

“So?” I asked.

She messed with the zipper on her purse, closing it partway, then opening it again. “I can’t do this today.”

She sounded so miserable that an unexpected pang of sympathy made me curb my snarky comment. “Yeah, I know you’re thinking
just my luck,
right?”

She frowned and angled her head toward me. “What did you say?”

What’d I do now?
“Uh, that you must be thinking—”

“Never mind. I heard you.”

Then why are you acting so weird?
“I didn’t mean anything rude.”

“Just my luck,” she repeated, staring out at some distant point.

What? You like the dry cleaners over there?
“So, when can you get together?”

She dragged her lower teeth over her upper lip. “Tomorrow after school.”

I’d be getting home really late if I had to do both drama club and then rehearse with her. The parents were not going to like that. “Think it’s okay if we skip the auditions?”

“Probably. Let’s meet here tomorrow. We can ask Mrs. Mac about skipping.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Like a nightmare.

“See you later,” she said and walked off without looking back.

How badly did I really want that part in the stupid play? Probably not bad enough to endure time with Lindsey. But if I had to be honest with myself, she’d been pretty nice today, complimenting my asinine performance. Sunlight sparked gold highlights in her auburn hair as she moved past the remaining cars in the parking lot. Maybe there was more to her than I’d thought.

I adjusted my backpack higher. Right. I was about to find out. Whether I wanted to or not.

Nine

Lindsey

Once I reached my subdivision, I turned down my music. Might as well. It wasn’t driving away the sense of dread that had given me a headache. I should’ve told Mrs. Mac exactly what had happened to me up on the stage. About Adam’s empty auditorium seat. But if I’d done that, she wouldn’t trust me anymore. She’d always wonder if I was going to lose it during a performance or something. No. It was better to act like everything was fine. That’s what people expected.

Only now I had to work with Trey Berger.

I turned into my driveway and pushed the garage door button. Mom’s Lexus was parked on one side.
Dang it.
I was hoping she wouldn’t be home. I pulled onto the section of the driveway that wouldn’t block my dad from the garage and turned off the car.

What was it Berger had said?
Just my luck.
And he was absolutely right.

It was just my luck that I focused on Adam’s empty chair at that particular moment of the audition. It was just my luck that it made me screw up. It was just my luck that Mrs. Mac was punishing me by making me rehearse with Berger.

I got out of the car, tensed against the freezing air, then hurried into the garage. Adam had been wrong when he said we’d run out of luck. I had plenty of luck. Of the really bad variety.

But there were ways to combat that. I stopped. Right there before the door into the house.

An idea sparked and burned like a light at the end of my very dark tunnel. Luck didn’t have to be bad. It could be good. Just like it used to be.

Now if I could only keep the conversation with my mom short. She usually worked in the kitchen in the late afternoon, either starting dinner or doing something on the computer. So, if she was busy, there was a slight chance I could sneak right past her.

I twisted the door handle slowly, then ever so carefully pushed the door open. I held my breath. So far, so good. She was sitting at her kitchen desk, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“Hey, honey,” she said, without turning away from her computer.

Great. So much for stealth. “Hey, Mom.” I walked over and kissed her on the cheek.

She smiled up at me. “How was school?”

Definitely not going there. “Fine. How’s your day going?”

“Okay. But I’ve more analyzing to do on this fundraiser report. Let’s talk in a little while, okay?”

Perfect. “Okay.” I made myself stroll through the kitchen as if I were in no hurry at all. But once at the stairs, I took them two at a time. When I got to my room, I set my books and purse on the carpet, then snatched up my laptop. I plopped onto my bed, shoving stuffed animals out of the way. The cleaning lady must have come today. Everything was too neat.

I glanced up at my Storm poster. They grinned back. I scowled. They were obviously not bringing me good luck anymore. Time for something new. I flipped open the top of the computer and typed into a search engine: “lucky charms.” Up popped about a million references to the breakfast cereal. Nope. Instead, I went straight to an online retail giant and tried again: “good luck charms.” Ah, now we were talking. There were
feng shui
coins, bead bracelets, and good luck mojo bags. Necklaces with horseshoe, wishbone, or elephant charms. Stuff for poker. Figurines. Ladybugs, four-leaf clovers, and turtles. Brightly colored, fake rabbit’s-foot key chains. Real rabbit’s-foot key chains. Ugh. It went on and on. How the heck was I supposed to choose?

I needed to change my luck in a big way—especially if today in drama club was the way things were headed. But I didn’t want to spend hours researching the best tokens. Maybe I could buy one of everything. The thought of the certain scowl on my dad’s face caused me to shelve that idea. But, wow, a bag of rabbit’s-foot key chains was only four bucks. I could buy a bunch of those. And several of the beaded bracelets. The charm necklaces, too.

I set the computer aside and grabbed my purse. I dug the credit card out of my wallet. I had a $200 spending limit, but I’d already used some of that this month. Hmm. Was this stupid? Maybe. Probably. But I had to do something, anything I could, to get my good luck back.

My doll Vivi stared at me from my bedside table. I’d left her sitting there instead of replacing her on that stupid stand. “Well, Vivi, what would you do?”

No response. Not that I expected one, but still.

“Not gonna answer, huh? Okay. Guess I’m on my own then.”

Half an hour and a hundred dollars later, I closed my computer and swallowed hard. If my parents found out about this … well, the least they would do was take away my credit card. They might even take away my computer. Gulp.

But they probably wouldn’t find out. I doubted they even looked at the credit card statement except to see that I hadn’t gone over the two hundred dollars. I’d only paid to overnight one of the items, and hopefully most of the others would arrive on different days. It wouldn’t be too horrible if my mom was home when one package was delivered. She was used to me buying things online. But if she was there when three or four arrived? That would definitely make her curious. I’d better find a way to be home every afternoon so I could intercept the deliveries.

Still, it was too late to worry about it now. A sense of excitement swam through my veins. This was going to work. I just knew it. How could luck not change when you bombarded it with a boatload of charms? It had to.

Ten

Berger

The next afternoon after school, I strolled through the auditorium trying to look totally chill while I waited for Lindsey to show up. She usually got there ten minutes after the bell rang, and it had already been fifteen. People milled around, getting ready for the auditions to start. Lindsey should’ve been right in the middle of it, even telling people where to go or what to do. But she wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t see her anywhere.

Down front, Mrs. Mac frowned as she stood talking to Mike Morales. I really didn’t want to approach her to ask about skipping the auditions—not with that expression on her face—but since Lindsey wasn’t around, it was up to me. I had just reached the end of the rows when someone called my name.

“Trey!”

I turned. Parker Sims edged his super tall self out of a row. I walked back toward him.

“Hey,” he said. “Lindsey was looking for you. She said to meet her outside.”

Now what was that all about? “She did?”

“Yeah. Said Mrs. Mac okayed y’all skipping the auditions.” A weird look passed over his features. “You get to rehearse together?” His face settled into a perturbed expression, as though I were taking something that belonged to him.

“Yeah. Mrs. Mac wants us to.” I started back up the aisle, and he kept pace with me.

“You’re really lucky,” he said. His gaze bored into the side of my head, but I just kept walking. “Every guy in here would kill to rehearse with her privately.”

I stopped. What an idiot. “Really? You’d murder someone?”

“Practically.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Well, okay, good talk.” I walked on, and this time he didn’t follow. I didn’t know why all these guys worshipped Lindsey so much. She was hot, that was true. But didn’t they see how she always acted so entitled? Like the world and everyone in it owed her something?

I stepped out of the theater building and blinked in the late-afternoon, cloudy haze. A new cold front was moving in tonight. I couldn’t wait.

But I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to find Lindsey. Lines of cars inched along the road just past the parking lot. It was peak
everybody and their dog leaving school
time. I scanned the small groups of people that were standing around by the buildings or parked cars. Where was she? I sighed. I should’ve gotten her phone number so I could find out what was going on. I’d give it five minutes, and if she didn’t show, I’d head home.

Three minutes later, a silver sedan that had been working its way around parked cars pulled up to the curb in front of me. The automatic window went slowly down. “Come on, Dragon Boy,” Lindsey said, leaning over the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”