On the Loose (40 page)

I step into my hoop skirt then pull on my blue brocade gown. I have to admit, blue is one of my colors. I turn in a circle and smile at myself in the mirror.

Knock! Knock!

“Open up, Sweet Pea. I got something you need.”

I open the door to Maxine, wearing a lavender ball gown that goes from toe to neck.

“Nice turtleneck.” I move aside so she can come in.

“Shut your yapper. This was not my idea.”

“No, really?”

“Mrs. Hall seemed to think all my ideas showed too much cleavage.” She huffs. “I’m not sure what she has against me displaying a little bit of the good Lord’s bounty.”

“I think you look nice.” In a nun sort of way.

“Well, thanks, toots. Now, Jeremy said I was to help you with this.” She holds up a giant nose. “Bend down.”

“No way. I’m not wearing that thing. I can’t breathe with it on.”

“You should try this corset.” Her blue eyes cross. “Anyway, I’ve got all the supplies here, so squat down and get your new beezer.”

Minutes later as Maxine helps me with my hair, Chelsea sweeps in, looking elegantly beautiful and regal. Even though she’s in a ragged old brown dress.

She stifles a giggle when she spots me. I ignore her.

“You look lovely, dear.” Maxine cuts her cat eyes at Chelsea. “Quite fetching for a girl who cooks and cleans chamber pots all day.”

Chelsea flips her hair. “Just because Cinderella works hard doesn’t mean she has to be homely. I want her to shine with dignity.”

“You’ll definitely be shining with all that glitter spray in your hair.” My voice comes out in muffled honks through the filter of my rubber nose.

Chelsea blasts a scathing look in my direction. At least I think it’s in my direction. This stupid nose is obstructing my view.

“You know, Katie, there’s no need for you to be mad at me. It’s not like I stole Trevor from you. Did you know he never intended to go to the dance with you?”

Ice water poured over my head could not have chilled me any faster. I want to brush her off and act like I don’t care. But I can’t. “What do you mean?”

“You assumed Trevor was going to go with you. I think his friends egged that on, if I have my story straight. But . . .” She shakes her long, blonde waves. “He wasn’t taking you. He had been trying to find a way to break it to you.”

Maxine chortles and takes a hair pin out of her mouth. “Oh, she got the message. What a classy moment
that
was.” She continues to laugh to herself as she arranges my hair. “Cinderella, you better watch yourself. Just because he looks like a prince and kisses like a prince, don’t mean he ain’t a toad underneath it all.”

Chelsea and her haughty stare disappear from the bathroom, and I take a deep breath. Maxine pats me on the back.

“Girl, you are gonna be great. You just put all of this out of your mind.”

I nod slowly and pull my lips into a smile.

“Now, I’ve prayed for you. I hope you’re praying for me.” Maxine’s brows knit together. “In the closing scene when all the cast gathers, I fly across the stage, but we’ve only practiced it twice with those wire contraptions.” She shakes her yellow head. “I’ll deny it if you repeat it, but I am too old to be flying through the air by a few pulleys and a harness between my crotch.”

“Thanks for that visual.”

From outside the door, Mrs. Hall calls.

“All right, Sweet Pea. Showtime!” She tweaks my prosthetic nose. “Show ’em what you’re made of.”

I grab her hand. “You too. Break a—”

“Uh-uh.” Maxine shakes a finger. “Hon, don’t ever tell someone my age to break a leg.” She pats me on the tush and shoots on by.

I walk out of the dressing room and steer myself toward the left wing where Jeremy waits.

“Katie?”

I turn, keeping one eye on Chelsea, who’s taking the stage for her opening scene alone.

“These are for you.” Woman at Ball Number Six thrusts a wrapped bouquet of roses into my hands.

I stare at Jeremy in confusion.

“Open the card,” he whispers. “Hurry.”

I sniff the flowers, a collection of varying shades of pink, then tear into the card.

You’ll always be the brightest star to us.

We love you,

James and Millie

I pass the flowers back to Number Six and thank her.

“Don’t tear up now. You’ll ruin your mascara. And we’re almost on.” Jeremy grabs my arm and pulls me along. “Here we go, sis. After those flowers, do you think you have it in you to be mean and nasty?”

My eyes zone in on Chelsea, sweeping near the fireplace. “I think I can manage.”

The play zooms by. I only flub up one line, but Jeremy recovers for me. My gaze draws to the crowd during the party scenes in which the cast is supposed to simply gaze at the lovely couple. Yet I can’t see a thing past the first three rows for the glare of the lights. My mom could be out there. Watching me. Me and my crooked, pointy nose.

The next to final scene opens with the great reveal. Trevor slides the glass slipper onto Chelsea’s foot, as Jeremy and I cling to each other, sobbing hysterically.

Chelsea rises from her chair, smiling into the eyes of her prince. Trevor takes her hand and kisses it. He then turns his attention to Cinderella’s stepfamily.

“My father will return. And when he does, he will hand down a punishment for the cruelty my future princess endured.”

The scarlet curtain falls, and we all scramble to our final spots.

Seconds later, the curtain rises on our frozen tableau. Jeremy and I stand huddled with our mother and watch in horror as Cinderella and the Prince recite their vows. The girl playing my mother cries loudly into a handkerchief. I contort my face into varying looks of disgust. No acting skills needed.

Trevor leans in to kiss his bride, and I look away.

And see Maxine flying out of the ceiling.

“Aughhhhhhhhh!”

She swings by.

Then comes back again.

“Auggghhhhhhhh!” Her body twists and turns as she sails past us, spread eagle. “Some . . . body . . . stop . . . this . . . thing . . .”

We dart out of her way as the wires lower her closer and closer to the stage. My eyes bulge when I realize she’s gonna hit someone. I leap out of my spot.

“Trevor, move, she’s—”

Pow!

“Gonna hit you.”

Everyone in the house wears the same expression—jaw dropped, eyes wide—as Trevor goes catapulting backwards, clutching onto Maxine, who is still airborne.

Her voice echoes through the theater as they soar back again. “Let go of me, you player! I will not be one of your conquests!”

They swing through again, this time with Jeremy and the king chasing after them.

“Oh, no. No, no, don’t drop me! Nooooo!”

I remain glued to my spot, transfixed in terror as Maxine grabs onto Trevor with all four limbs.

And crashes to the ground.

The crowd shoots to their feet.

The cast runs to center stage where Trevor lies heaped over the fairy godmother.

“You have two seconds to get off me or I’m sticking this wand—”

“I’m up!” Trevor scrambles to pull himself off and brushes dirt from his black pants.

The collective sigh of relief is so loud, the theater seems to tremor.

Trevor holds out a hand for Maxine. “Are you all right, Mrs. Simmons?”

Concerned, I move in closer. Maxine bats his hand away, rises up on her elbows then pushes herself up, her body shaking in fury.

The crowd goes wild. Their shouts and applause fill the room and bounce off the walls.

My foster grandmother turns around slowly at the concert of cheers. A slow smile graces her face, and then she waves to every corner of the room. The applause reaches a crescendo as the retired dancer from Las Vegas claims her stage once again and soaks up every bit of her moment of glory.

The curtain flutters down on the cast as we take our bows.

And
Cinderella
is over.

I follow a limping Maxine into the lobby as the cast gathers for the receiving line. Though I’m totally pumping with adrenaline from the calamity that the final scene almost was, my heart weighs heavily as I watch the door and scan every face as the audience files out.

Not my mom . . .

Not my mom . . .

Definitely not my mom . . .

James and Millie break through the crowd and pull me into a three-man hug. A Scott sandwich.

“Thanks for the flowers.” I crane my neck and peek around them. “Is she here?”

James smiles. “She sure is.”

My foster parents step apart, and there before me stands Mrs. Iola Smartly, director of the Sunny Haven Home for Girls.

She squeals with glee and pulls me close. “You were marvelous! Wonderful! And this—” she flicks my nose “—is a lovely addition.”

“Thanks.” I stand back and take in her familiar polyester, paisley-print dress and her fuzzy, salt-and-pepper bun sitting crooked on her head. “Where’s my mom?”

Iola glances at the Scotts. “Sweetie . . . she’s not here.”

My heart plummets, and I blink back the tears. I guess I really did want her here. To see me on stage. Mostly I just wanted her to
want
to be here.

Mrs. Smartly places her giant hand on my shoulder and gives it a brisk rub. “I know you’re disappointed.”

I shrug and look down. “No. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“She’s just not ready yet.”

Not ready to see her own daughter. The tears drop, and I watch them plop onto my shoes. “Yeah, I understand.” I sniff and wipe my nose. “I gotta go back stage. Maybe you could stick around for the cast party?”

Iola nods and her giant glasses slip down her nose. “Oh, I’d love to. And Katie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

My throat closes and suffocates any response. I bob my head, leave the three of them with a watery smile, and dash off to the dressing room.

I toss off my gown, sigh with relief when I zip into my favorite jeans, and rip out the hairpins.

Bending over to tie my shoes, I notice my bouquet of roses by my bag. I pick them up and the card shimmies to the floor.

I snatch it up and read it again.

You’ll always be the brightest star to us.

We love you,

James and Millie

I sit down and read it over and over, letting the words pour over me and sink in.

God, tonight didn’t go how I wanted it to. And I don’t mean Maxine flying out of the ceiling. That was actually a highlight.

I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t my mom want to see me? All I want is to be loved. What have I ever done that I don’t deserve that?

My eyes are drawn to the card again. And the flowers.

And as I sit there looking at the perfect petals, the events of my life in In Between dance through my mind. Millie making me smiley-faced pancakes. James teaching me to drive—and not yelling at me when I crashed into a light pole. Maxine hauling me out of the party on the back of her bicycle built for two. Millie’s excitement when she bought me all new clothes on my second day in town. A wink from James at the pulpit.

I dash away my last tear and stand up.

You know what?

I am loved.

I
am
loved.

Maybe not how I wanted, not how I expected, but it’s more than I’ve ever had.

Clutching my flowers, I fling open the door and run out. I’ve gotta catch the Scotts before they go to the cast party.

I round the corner, dropping a few petals behind me. “Millie!” I speed my walk into a jog. “James!”
Please be here.

I race through the theater and up the center aisle. Bursting through the doors, I push through the thinning crowd.

“Millie! James!”

I stop a man in a black jacket like James’s, but it’s not him. I search the faces, but none of them belong to the Scotts.

My shoulders sag as I turn around and walk through the lobby again, ready to collect my stuff from the dressing room.

The heavy doors inch open, and I use my foot to shove it away from my body. The stage sits there alone, washed in lights.

And on the second row waits James, Millie, and Maxine.

My family.

My foster grandmother stands up, rubbing her hip. “You sailed out of here like your pants were on fire. Didn’t even notice us.”

I follow the carpeted trail down the center of the theater, gaining speed with the slope of the floor. By the time I get to the second row, I’m almost sprinting.

Millie rises and a smile grows on her face. “You didn’t think we’d leave without a good-bye, did you?”

I shake my head. “No. You would never do that.” And I launch myself into their arms. I pull them close, this family of mine. My perfectionist foster mother, my scholarly yet sarcastic foster dad, and my insane and aerodynamic Maxine. “I love you guys.” And now I’m blubbering, spreading tears and stage makeup all over them. “I mean it. I love you.”

And they pull me in.

Closer. Tighter.

No matter what happens, whether my mom shows up tomorrow or next year, these people are mine.

And I’m theirs.

And I know, as we stand in the glow of the spotlight, this is right where I’m supposed to be.