Steering the Stars (14 page)

       Joel examined his hands. “My mom likes to go places, so we traveled a lot when I was a kid. But,” he artfully changed the subject, “you were telling me about missing home?”

       “Yeah,” I said as I released a long breath. “I guess I miss everything more than I thought I would.”

       “Break it down for me,” he pushed.

       “I miss driving and American appliances.”

       “Strangers saying hello for no reason?”

       “Yep.” As I nodded I realized that my head was a little light. A little woozy. “And free bathrooms and, obviously, the people.”

      
“
Your parents?”

       I nodded some more. “Even my brother, Henry. I never thought I would live to see the day, but I sincerely miss the sound of him yelling at me to get out of the bathroom in the morning.”

       Joel laughed.

      
“
And Caroline.”

      
“
That’s your best friend?”

       Point for Joel. He’d been paying attention. “Yeah.”

     
 
“What’s she like?”

     
 
How to explain Caroline
?“
I don’t know. She’s great. She’s always been there. Like…” I trailed off.

      
“
Like?”

     
 
“An anchor.”

     
 
Joel made a funny sound. “An anchor? Isn’t that something that drags you down?”

      
 
I crinkled my nose and barked out a laugh. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right at all.”

     
 
He smiled. “Try again.”

     
 
I blew out a breath, unsure how to explain. “If I were a balloon or a kite or something like that, Caroline would probably be the one holding my string.”

     
 
“At least you have your sister here.”

     
 
“I guess so.” I swatted a crumb from the table. “But we aren’t that close. It’s weird. She’s my sister but we don’t have a shared history, so most of the time we have no idea what to say to each other. I can’t be like, ‘Hey, remember the time we went to the cabin in Missoula for Mom’s birthday?’ We’ve never even spent more than four consecutive days together before now. It’s going okay, I guess, but…”

     
 
“But?” he prompted.

     
 
“It’s forced. Do you know what I mean?”

     
 
Joel nodded.

      
 
“It’s like you move through life taking it for granted that there are all these people around who know you from the inside out. People who understand your moods and have already heard all of your stories. People who remember you broke your wrist when you were nine after slipping off Jessica Carradine’s trampoline, or that you don’t like black jellybeans, or that in the sixth grade you wrote a corny poem about Jacob Grizik.”

     
 
“You lost me. Who is Jacob Grizik?”

     
 
Jacob was my middle school crush, but I wasn’t about to confess this to Joel.

     
 
“
Never mind—he doesn’t matter,” I said quickly and ducked my face so that he couldn’t read my expression. “What I’m trying to say is that here in London, I’m making friends but I feel like I’m always starting at the beginning of things. It’s…” I searched for the right word. “It’s…”

     
 
“
It’s exhausting,” he finished for me.

     
 
“
Exactly,” I said, blinking in surprise. “It
is
exhausting. I miss having Caroline.”

     
 
“Because you guys tell each other everything,” he concluded.

     
 
I thought about the things I’d been hiding from Caroline for the last couple of weeks. Things about Owen and how I was struggling with school. I didn’t like lying to her but I wasn’t ready for her questions. Not until I talked to Owen.

     
 
“We used to,” I said and kept it at that.

     
 
After that, we fell into a strange sort of silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it felt heavy or something. I started to wish that I hadn’t talked in metaphors. What had possessed me to compare myself to a kite?  

     
 
“
Sorry. All of that was really cheesy,” I spluttered. I knew I was blushing.

     
 
When his voice finally came, it was soft, just barely rising above the din of the crowded pub. “It wasn’t cheesy. I’ve never had someone in my life like that.”

     
 
My eyebrows climbed to my forehead. “How is that possible? There’s no way you have
no
friends.”

     
 
He cocked his head to the side. “I told you that I grew up in Detroit.”

     
 
I was confused. “Okay? And people don’t have friends in Michigan?”

     
 
The look he gave me was inscrutable. “I grew up in Detroit where I was a half-white, well-traveled kid at an all black school. Then my mom went to a convention for dental surgeons and met Harold, my stepdad, and next thing I know, I’m living in London in a huge house with marble floors and gold-plated wall sconces. Now, instead of being the half-white kid, I’m the half-black kid at an all-white school. Same thing, just a different place.”

     
 
As I processed that, I became aware that the distance from my body and Joel’s had shrunk dramatically. Both of us were leaning forward and our faces only inches apart. Below the table, his knee bumped my inner thigh and sent a charge racing up my spine.  

     
 
“
I don’t know what to say to that,” I admitted, swallowing hard. This close, I could see the dark rings around his irises and the tiny lines that fanned out from his lips.

     
 
“Hannah,” he said slowly, like he wanted to make sure I was listening.

     
 
“Yeah?” I hated how weird and breathy I sounded.

     
 
“I don’t have people who know me like that because I’ve never made the effort. I haven’t wanted to hear anyone’s stories.” He opened his mouth and hesitated, his gaze locking onto mine. “Until now.”

     
 
My pulse throbbed and I went warm all over. The space between us was practically nonexistent, and if I shifted even the slightest bit, our foreheads would touch. His lips were so close that I could almost imagine what they tasted like—sweet with a nip of smoky bitterness from the beer.

     
 
It was happening.

     
 
We were going to kiss.

     
 
Right here. Right now.

     
 
A charge of anticipation moved through me. My skin was tingling. My breath was escaping my lungs in short bursts. I wanted this. Didn’t I?

     
 
Whether it was official or not, Owen and I were over. His silence since I’d been in London had made that perfectly clear. So, meeting someone else and feeling this way wasn’t wrong. I was allowed to be happy. I was allowed to live. I was allowed to kiss whoever I wanted to kiss.

     
 
Wasn’t I?

      
 
Joel’s fingers found my face and he carefully tucked my hair behind my ears. He leaned in and angled his head to the side and—

     
 
A shard of guilt slipped under my skin like a jagged piece of broken glass. All at once, I jerked back from Joel. “Wait!”  

     
 
He didn’t say anything but he did pull away and take his hand with him.

      
 
“I’m sorry.” I made a rumbly noise of apology and hid my eyes in embarrassment.
What was wrong with me?

     
 
“Don’t be sorry.”

     
 
My head was spinning. All around us bar noise buzzed and vibrated the air. My stomach was a stormy sea of loose nerves. “I’m not… well, I’m not…”

     
 
“You don’t have to explain, Hannah.”

              But I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him that my reaction hadn’t been about him, it had been about me. But, even I thought the whole
it’s not you, it’s me
line sounded like an excuse.

     
 
I pressed a hand over my galloping heart and looked up. His face was impassive and if I hadn’t found his eyes, I might not have caught the sharpness of the emotion there. “Joel… I…”

     
 
He shook his head. Then he picked up his beer and stared off like none of it mattered.  “Like I said, nothing happened.”

     
 
But I knew better.

     
 
Something had definitely happened.

To: Owen<
[email protected]
>

From: Caroline<
[email protected]
>

Date: September 11

Subject: AWOL

Hey you never called me back! Just because Hannah is half way across the world doesn’t mean you get to stop talking to me, ya know?!
How’s school going? I feel like it’s been forever since we talked. Let’s get coffee soon!
____________

To: Caroline<
[email protected]
>

From: Hannah<
[email protected]
>

Date: September 15

Subject: D-Day

Isn’t tomorrow D-day?

___________
_

To: Hannah<
[email protected]
>

From: Caroline<
[email protected]
>

Date: September 15

Subject: Re: D-day

Ugh. Please don’t remind me. My class is meeting in the auditorium for the official audition after school.

I seriously feel like I’m gonna throw up. Send me good vibes. Please? With a cherry on top. And whipped cream.

____________

To: Caroline<
[email protected]
>

From: Hannah<
[email protected]
>

Date: September 16

Subject: What else?

Do I hear rainbow sprinkles? And maybe some chocolate fudge?

____________

The bell rang, letting me know that I couldn’t delay it any longer.

       It was go time.

     
 
My stomach lurched like I’d swallowed a hive of angry bees, but I made myself turn the handle and push the wide double doors open.

       Walking into the auditorium that day was like slipping into a different world. A darker, dustier world that smelled like wax and old fabric and something else I couldn’t name.

       The cavernous room was dominated by a wide wooden stage framed in thick red curtains. Spotlights suspended on black metal rods beamed down from a sort of track on the ceiling. Sheets of uncut plywood rested against a dark blue backdrop.  

        I spotted Mrs. Cobb standing in front of the audience seating. She was referring to a clipboard and pointing toward the stage. The first few rows in front of her were filled with students—most of whom I recognized from class. Others were moving around, testing the stage and practicing their lines. I saw a few kids lounging casually on the side stairs. I guessed these were the more comfortable thespians. They all had that ease about them that comes from being confident in your own territory.

     
 
Not me. I was still frozen by the door.

     
 
Speaking of the door, I felt it moving behind me and jumped out of the way.

       Miles walked in with his lips moving and his eyes half-shut. When he saw me, he stopped and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was running lines.”

     
 
I swallowed. “No, I was in the way. I’m just hanging back watching it all.”

     
 
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

     
 
That was one way to put it. “Yeah.”

     
 
“Are you ready?” he asked, herding me toward everyone else.

     
 
I glanced nervously to the stage then back to the door. “Umm… as ready as I’ll ever be.”

     
 
“I know theater isn’t your thing, but remember that
My Fair Lady
has a chorus. You should be able to hide in the back.”

     
 
That wasn’t exactly a comfort.

     
 
My face must have told him this because he swung his arm across my shoulder and added, “I meant way, way, waa-aay in the back.”  

     
 
A seedling of hope sprouted in my chest. “Like backstage, where no one will even know I exist?”

     
 
“Nice try,” Miles said with a laugh. “What have you prepared? I was going to start with Puck’s monologue from
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
but the more I think about it, I need to sell my voice. So, I’m doing ‘God That’s Good’ from
Sweeney Todd.
” He lifted his hand to show me a USB card. “I brought the music with me.”

     
 
Of course he did.

     
 
“I think I’m going to follow up the song with ‘The Offer’ monologue so Mrs. Cobb can get a better picture in the part of Professor Higgins.”

     
 
“Wait. We were supposed to prepare
two
things?” I screeched, panicking.

     
 
“You don’t have to, but it’s always good to have a fallback in case she wants to see you flex your acting chops on the fly.”

     
 
“I don’t have any chops to flex,” I assured him.

     
 
“Well, maybe you could do the ‘They Done Her In’ monologue? It’s comedic and I’m sure you’ve seen the Audrey Hepburn version of the musical before, haven’t you?”

     
 
I had watched it with my mom and loved it, but before I could tell Miles this, I spotted Henry standing at the back of the auditorium surrounded by a few other seniors. When he saw me notice him, he tilted his body forward, said something to his friends, and made his way over to where Miles and I were.

     
 
“What are you doing here?” I asked with genuine surprise.  “You aren’t auditioning are you? Is this like a track team hazing ritual that I don’t know about?”

     
 
“Seniors don’t get hazed.”

     
 
“You know what I mean.”

     
 
He chuckled. “I do. And, no, I’m not auditioning. I got recruited to work on the backdrops. It’s extra credit for my carpentry elective.”

     
 
That made more sense. “So someone leaked the fact that you’re a pro with a drill?”

     
 
“Did you sell me out?” he asked with a teasing smile.

     
 
“My lips are sealed.” I mimicked pulling a zipper across my mouth.

       He laughed and knocked his hip against mine. “So, Care, do you feel re—”

     
 
“Hi, I’m Miles. I don’t think we’ve had the chance to meet,” Miles said, stepping in between us and holding out his hand.

     
 
Like,
for real
. Who does that?

     
 
Henry didn’t miss a beat though. His easy smile held as he shook Miles’ hand. “Henry Vaughn.”

     
 
“I know who you are.”

     
 
That made sense. Everyone knew Henry. Or, at least, everyone
wanted
to know Henry.

     
 
Trying to smooth any awkwardness over, I told Miles, “Henry is my best friend’s brother.”

     
 
Understanding dawned on his face. “That’s right. Hannah is your sister.”

     
 
“She is.”

     
 
“So, I guess if you’re stage crew, we’ll be seeing a lot of you around here?” Miles continued.

     
 
“Looks like it,” Henry said coolly, before turning back to me. “When it’s over, I’ll be waiting for you backstage.”

     
 
“Mm-kay, thanks.”

     
 
“Oh, and Care?”

     
 
“Yeah?”

     
 
Henry winked as he walked backwards. “Break a leg.” And then he turned around, allowing me to enjoy the view.

     
 
Mrs. Cobb clapped her hands, making my stomach plunge. “Hello, Actors!”

     
 
Miles grabbed my arm and pulled me into a row.

     
 
“It’s wonderful to see so many new faces for auditions. As most of you already know, we are doing
My Fair Lady
for the fall production this year.” Mrs. Cobb paused before launching into some basic stage instructions. Then she took a seat at the front and started calling names from a list.

     
 
“Are you okay?” Miles whispered from behind his hand.

     
 
My legs were bouncing up and down so much that the whole row was shaking. I pressed my sweaty palms flat down on my thighs in an attempt to stifle the jumpiness.

     
 
“No,” I admitted. I was so not okay. “There’s a very real possibility that I am going to puke all over the front row.”

     
 
“Should I scoot back?” he joked.

       “I might even hit the second row.”

     
 
“Then way in the back it is.”

       “This is going to be bad. So bad,” I muttered.

     
 
“You’ll be fine,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You don’t care whether or not you get a part so what do you have to lose?”

     
 
I squinted. “Strangely, that actually does make me feel a little better.”

     
 
“Good because you’re up.”

     
 
“What?”

     
 
Miles nodded. “You’re up.”

     
 
I lifted my head and saw that he was right. Everyone was looking at me.

     
 
“Sorry,” I murmured and stood.

     
 
My feet felt like they were weighted down with cement blocks as I ascended the stage steps. I had to force one foot in front of the other and pause between steps to keep my balance. It was an agonizingly slow process.

     
 
Once on stage, I turned to face the auditorium and realized that like this, I couldn’t even see anybody in the crowd. I knew they were all still there, but with the glare of white-hot lights in my eyes, it was easier to pretend that they weren’t.