On the Loose (23 page)

“Calm down. You’re just like them.”

Amy plops herself onto my twin bed, and I jerk the
People
from under her foot. “They are your parents. And I like them. And aside from the gray hair, if I could be anything like them, I would jump for joy.”

She fluffs my pillow and sticks it behind her head. “Since this is my room, I’ll be sleeping here. Where are you gonna sleep?” And then she laughs. Like she’s just remembered the funniest joke. The high pitched sound razors my nerves.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I ask. And please don’t breathe your crazy germs on my bed.

She winds it down to a giggle. “Oh, I’m really good. But Dad said for you to stay with your friend here for a few days so he and Mom could spend time with me—their daughter.”

I open my mouth then clamp it shut. My brain shuffles through every foul word and vile name I know (and there are many). A particularly creative insult comes to mind, and I load it for blast off. “You—”

“Is that what he told you?” Frances butts in, but I tuck the curse away for future use. “James said Katie was to go home with me?”

Amy settles into the bed, wiggling her nasty boots all over my hot pink comforter. “Yup.” She closes her bloodshot eyes and flops a hand over her face. “Nighty-night, kiddies. Turn the light out on your way out.”

I march to the closet and stuff some clothes in a bag. “The other bed belongs to Maxine.” I heave the duffle over my shoulder and smile. “And she’s had a lot of huevos rancheros today. Sweet dreams.”

Frances and I stomp downstairs and pile into the station wagon.

“She’s not anything like I thought she would be,” Frances says, pulling out of the driveway.

“No. She’s worse.” I must be wearing a Kick Me sign today. Because the hits just keep coming.

I punch in James’s cell phone number. No answer. His voice mail greets me with cheer and blessings. Yeah, well you know what you can do with your Christian goodness, James?

Beep!

“Hey, it’s Katie. Frances is taking me to rehearsal, then I’m spending the night at her house. But I guess you already know that.”
Click.
Pastor Jerk-face.

“I’m really sorry.” Frances turns in the direction of the Valiant theater. Going her normal five miles under the speed limit.

“Thanks.” I look out the window. Random spots of In Between still lies in pieces from the tornado. “But it’s no big deal. It’s not like I care.”

“Yeah, we’ll have fun tonight. Maybe we can talk mom into ordering pizza.” Frances huffs. “Who am I kidding? Heaven forbid my family honor the Italian culture. I just hope it’s not squid stew night.”

The car squeaks to a stop in front of the theater. Frances grabs her backpack and opens the door.

“You’re staying? We’ll be rehearsing for a few hours.”

“I’ll just hang out here. That way I can see you practice and work on my next strategy to get Nash to beg me to go out with him.”

Er, right.

I swing open the doors of the theater and gain some comfort. Like knowing you have a friend saving you a seat at lunch, the Valiant is familiar and welcoming to me. Makes me happy. Its Art Deco style still fascinates me, even though my own sweat went behind almost every brushstroke.

We sail through the lobby and the black lacquer doors that lead into the theater.

“Katie? Frances?”

I manage a half-smile for Sam Dayberry. “Hey.”

“I thought I was gonna pick up you and Maxine and take you to the hospital after rehearsal.” He takes his cap off and wipes his head with a handkerchief.

“Change of plans.”

His eyes narrow. “Who changed ’em?”

“That would be Maxine.”

“Don’t tell me . . .”

I nod. “Ginger Rogers. Yup, rode all the way to the hospital.”

He mumbles something about insanity. “Heard the news about Millie. I’m praying for her. Life will be good again. Hang in there.” He pats me on the shoulder.

“Right.”

“You okay?”

“Amy’s here.” That strung-out cow.

Sam’s face splits into a grin. “That’s wonderful. Praise the Lord.”

“You do that.” I leave him and Frances standing there.

I’m so ticked I can hardly appreciate the totally hot aura surrounding Trevor Jackson. He’s head to head in conversation with Chelsea, yet another person whose fan club I will never be joining.

I approach the couple just as Chelsea lays her hand on Trevor’s arm and laughs.

“Oh, Trev!” She flips her golden princess locks. “That’s so hilarious!”

Trevor says something back, his voice deep and low. I can’t hear him, but Chelsea’s eyes light up. His hand moves closer to hers. Closer . . .

“Hey, Katie.” And Jeremy blocks my view. I stretch my neck, peering around him.

I step to the left of Jeremy. In time to see Chelsea and Trevor, standing miles apart. Surely he didn’t put his hand on hers. Would he?

“Hi.” My fake smile hangs crooked on my face.

Trevor catches my eye and winks. At me.

I lift a single eyebrow then give Jeremy my attention. Well, most of it. Okay, a small percentage of it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to discuss our wardrobe.” He reaches into his coat pocket. “And here. I found these backstage at school.” My fellow stepsister shoves a giant plastic nose on my face. “Perfect!”

Chelsea explodes into giggles. Again.

I wrench the pointy schnoz from my own nose. “I am
not
wearing this thing.”

“I think it looks great.” Trevor steps between me and Jeremy. “For the character, that is. Your acting skills are top-notch, so shouldn’t your costume be just as professional?” He flashes me his white teeth.

My acting skills are top-notch?
Sighhhh
. “Um . . . yeah.” I take the nose back. For Trevor I would wear anything. A suit of armor. The butt-end of a donkey costume. Anything.

Mrs. Hall claps her hands at center stage. “All right students, are we all here? Let’s get to work. I have a six o’clock appointment with a divorce attorney. He’s the best in the county, so I don’t want to keep him waiting. Mr. Hall won’t know what hit him. Did I tell you about the letters I found in his top drawer yesterday? Well, I was going through some—”

“Mrs. Hall?” Trevor rolls his beautiful brown eyes.

Our teacher blinks. “Yes, dear?”

“Can we start now?”

She clears her throat. “I believe that’s what I was saying. Now, if I may continue. Let’s start from the top. We’ll do a very informal run-through of the script. No staging or blocking today. But we will be onstage. Just move where the script takes you.”

She claps her hands and Leslie Traylor, Cinderella’s stepmother, and Chelsea take the stage for the first scene.

Jeremy and I sit in the front row. I’m totally ready to tear Chelsea’s performance apart. Should’ve been my role. Instead I get a glue-on nose.

Jeremy pulls some pictures out of his backpack. “So, I was thinking we could wear long, brown wigs. Maybe have them braided. I’ve been doing a little research on the time period, and—”

“Didn’t see you at school today.” Trevor takes the seat on my other side.

My heart kicks it into overdrive. Somewhere in my head I’m aware of Jeremy still speaking. But all I know is Trevor.

He noticed I wasn’t there! Not only does Trevor know I exist, but he was looking for me. I just want to tattoo his words on the inside of my eyelids, so I can see them every time I blink. Or sleep in class.

“I was at the hospital.” I give him breadcrumbs of my day. “My foster mom has cancer. She had surgery today.”

Trevor puts an arm around the back of my chair. “I’m sorry. How are you holding up?” He leans in to whisper, and I catch myself sniffing him.
Mmmm
. Spicy, woodsy. Hotsy.

“I’ve had better days. It’s good to be here though. Take my mind off things.” I stare at my hands, wishing I was brave enough—Chelsea enough—to stare into his eyes right now.

His hand moves to my shoulder and squeezes lightly. “I’m really sorry. I guess you’re not gonna be in the partying mood Friday night, are you?”

The party. How could I forget about that? I guess because I knew the Scotts would sooner let me hitchhike cross-country before they would allow me go to a party.

But now? Who cares. I’m out of a home, I’ve got demon-possessed Amy taking my bed, and nobody in the Scott family even knows I exist right now. So they sure won’t notice if I’m gone a few hours Friday night.

“I’d love to go to the party.” I bravely raise my eyes to his. “But things are a little mixed up at my house right now, so I don’t have a ride there. Know anyone who could pick me up?” Anyone tall, dark, and all Prince Charming?

He hesitates. Not good.
So
not good.

And then he slowly nods. “Yeah, I can pick you up. No problem.” He pauses again. “And you’re sure your foster parents won’t care?

I think of Amy. “No, they don’t care at all.”

F
riday spins my
brain. I go to all eight classes for forty-five minutes each. Just enough time for each teacher to give a pop quiz and assign a pathetic amount of homework.

With my bag full of books and my neck in a crick from sleeping over again at Frances’s, I slither into my seat in biology and lay my head down on the cool lab table. Yesterday I skipped drama rehearsal and made Frances take me to the hospital to see Millie. It seemed like I couldn’t get a word in for the Scotts playing catch up with crazy Amy. When your daughter ignores you for years and lives in a different state every week, I guess you have a lot to talk about.

And the Scotts didn’t say a word about kicking me out of my room. I came
so
close to asking them about it, but what could I say?
So, Millie, I know you have cancer and all, but did you know your daughter belongs in the circus?
Or
moving Amy into my room was such a funny joke. Hysterical. Believe me when I say, I laughed so hard, I cried.
Why can’t I just ask them about it?

“Katie?”

“
Hmmm
?” I keep my eyes shut tight, but recognize the voice as Charlie’s.

“You okay?”

Lots of people asking that question. But does anybody
really
care about the answer?

“Great. Fine. Couldn’t be better.”

And to add to all my grief, the vending machines are no longer carrying mini chocolate donuts due to some board member’s idea to make us all healthy. I needed a sugar and chocolate fix, and all the machine offered me was roasted peanuts and whole wheat crackers. I’m depressed, and I’m mad. Is
now
really the time to remove all chocolate from the building?

Charlie pulls his stool next to mine. Unlike Trevor, he doesn’t smell like cologne. Just smells like Charlie today. Clean with a touch of fabric softener.

“Chelsea is spending the weekend with her sister in Dallas. I was wondering if you wanted to get together tonight and work on our science fair project. You know, reunite our plants.”

My plant. Amy Scott, daughter of the year, is probably using it as an ash tray right now.

I prop my head up on a fist and face Charlie. “I’m kinda busy tonight.”

“Oh. You and Frances hanging out?”

I study the graffiti on the table. How did my phone number get on here? “No.” Erase, erase, erase. “I’m going to a party.”

Charlie frowns. “The party at Trevor Jackson’s?”

“Yeah.” I sit up. “So?”

“Katie, Trevor is not the type of guy you need to be hanging out with.”

“He’s been very nice to me.”

“Well, of course he has.”

My eyes narrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Trevor Jackson runs through girls like Chelsea goes through makeup.”

“Look, Charlie, I’m not going in hopes he’ll propose. I’ve had a really bad week, and I deserve a night off from all the crap.”

Charlie nudges my hand. “Do the Scotts know you’re going?”

“I . . .”

“Hey, guys.” Frances bounces into the seat next to mine. “What’s up?” Her eyes become a GPS system, tracking the nearest distance to Nash, who’s at another table talking to friends.

Charlie gets my look of death. My look that says
You say a word about this party, and I will run your underwear up the nearest flagpole
. Not that I have access to his underwear, of course. But it’s still a threatening face I’m making here.

“Nothing.” I flip my biology book open. “Nothing at all.”

Fried Friday in
PE. It’s a great way to end the day. Forty minutes of line drills, push-ups, pull-ups, speed drills on the jump ropes, and sprints. And if we’re lucky (or still upright and breathing without medical assistance), we get five whole minutes to shower and change.

“Get those knees up. Swing that rope. Faster! Faster!”

Coach Nelson yells above the slapping of thirty jump ropes. Jumping rope was so much fun for me as a little kid. Why does she have to go and taint it like this?

I swing my rope and trip as it comes back around. So. Tired.

I didn’t catch a lot of Zs last night. James called to check on me after play rehearsal. I didn’t have much to say to him. He asked if I didn’t want to stay home with Maxine and Amy. Whatever. Like he wanted me at home. It had sounded believable though.