The Royal Treatment (7 page)

I
didn’t tell Kylee about the kissing part. She would read way too much into it, just like when Reed gave me CPR. I knew a stage kiss meant nothing. Besides, I was going to hook them up, and once that happened, any Shakespearean lip-business wasn’t going to matter.

The hookup was going to take some effort, though, because Kylee got stage fright—make that
Reed
fright—at the thought of talking to him. We waited in the back row of the theater on the first day of rehearsal so Kylee could accidentally on purpose run into him. She paced the aisle, her expression determined, like when she was playing a difficult piece on her clarinet.

“So we’ll see him,” Kylee said. “You’ll say hi and remind him who I am. Then I’ll say…”

“Hi,” I said. “Or hello. You can improvise that part.”

“Don’t make fun of me! I like to have everything planned out when I’m nervous.”

“You talked to him the very first time we met,” I said.

“And then we didn’t see him all summer, which has given me plenty of time to build up our next encounter.” Kylee stopped pacing and bit at a nail.

“The word
encounter
makes me think of alien abductions.”

“Aha!” She pumped her fist in the air. “You’ve ditched the old movies and entered my world of scary. Next up, swamp creatures.”

“No. Never. And Kylee, be like this around him. You’re funny.”

Kylee and I jumped when the doors opened. Two junior girls brushed past us. Kylee fanned herself. “Is it possible to have a stroke when you’re thirteen?”

The doors opened again, and this time it
was
Reed. I pinched the back of Kylee’s arm and whispered, “Talk.”

“Hey, girls.” He swung an arm around our shoulders like we were all old friends, like Kylee wasn’t about to pass out.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi, er…hello,” Kylee said.

“You ready for the most boring day of your life?” Reed asked.

I looked up at Reed, which I appreciated. There weren’t that many guys tall enough for me to actually look up to. “Why do you say that?”

“First day is full read-through.” Reed dropped his arms and hooked his fingers under the straps of his backpack. “Sometimes they’re fun, but with it being Shakespeare, it’ll be auditory sleeping pills.”

Kylee snorted, then covered her nose.

“You know that other eighth grader, Celeste?” I asked. “Well, my mom is her pageant coach, and I’ve sat through some of their training sessions. Nothing more boring than that.”

Kylee nodded, but again,
said nothing.

“Come!” Mrs. Olman was standing center stage, her arms outstretched. “Actors! Let us convene!”

Reed grimaced. “Longest day ever. I promise.”

“Well, we better get up there.” I nudged Kylee again. “Have fun teaching band, Kylee. Did I mention Kylee helps teach high school band? She’s super talented.”

“I think you did mention that. Sounds cool.”

“Yeah. So…um…see you guys.” Kylee paused. “Stay awake.”

Reed laughed. “Later, Kylee.”

Kylee stepped back like his farewell had hit her with physical force. When Reed ran up the steps of the stage, I turned to Kylee. “The stay-awake line was funny. But you need to talk more.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. He’s, like, a good-looking guy Medusa: I just freeze up when I see him.”

Mrs. Olman clapped her hands. “Actors!”

“Thanks for helping.” Kylee trudged out of the theater.

Well, I tried. I couldn’t stick Royal Rouge on and talk for the girl. I lumbered onto the stage and took a seat next to Reed. I thought I was ready for the rehearsal—I’d steered clear of the Mountain Dew, and I was wearing a tank top to avoid sweat problems—but nothing could have prepared me for an hour and a half straight of Shakespeare’s English. It didn’t matter that this was the shortened version of the play—half the cast fell asleep, and it became an unspoken rule that we would elbow one another before our parts. Mrs. Olman kept reminding us to enunciate the words and feel, FEEL! the character’s soul, but even she left to get some coffee during the fourth act.

Reed and I had two scenes together—in the first, Titania falls in love with Bottom, thanks to a love potion. As Mrs. Olman said, the more I acted in love, the funnier the scene would be.

“What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?”

Reed scooted to the edge of his seat. He cleared his throat and delivered his line. Perfectly. Like everything he did.

“Uh…” I scrolled through the words and delivered my next line.

He leaned in, and I could smell his cologne—sporty mixed with something else. The ocean? “You might want to project a bit more,” he whispered.

I said my next line loud and clear. Very loud and clear.

“You don’t need to project
that
much,” Reed said.

“Thanks.” I clasped my hands in my lap, resisting the urge to swat him.

“Let’s take a break,” suggested Mrs. Olman. The cast members broke into chattering groups. Reed bumped me with his elbow.

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want some advice?”

“If I do, I’ll ask the director.”

“It helps if you can find the truth of the character. Like, Titania may be acting one way, but feeling something else. If you can recognize the difference in what the character
wants
to say and what she is
actually
saying, you can add a lot of depth to the role.”

Depth? He wanted
depth
? Hello, I wasn’t even fourteen yet and I’d already worked two jobs (one of them magical), run a small Internet business, made good grades, and got a part in this play. Not to mention I was a pretty nice person and didn’t obsess over shallow, non-obsess-worthy things, like what cologne Reed was wearing and why it smelled so nice. I was the Grand Canyon of depth!

“Thanks. I’ll think about that.”

After the break, Mrs. Olman offered a few tips on speaking slowly to convey the meaning of the words. Reed nudged me like I should pull out a pencil and write everything down because she was obviously talking to me.

As annoying as his “pointers” were, I was motivated to improve my delivery. If I could channel the same feelings I’d had during tryouts, not even Shakespeare’s stupid old language could stop me from shining. I just had to figure out
how
I’d tapped in to those feelings.

I closed my eyes for a second.
Okay, I’m Titania. My husband has been a total jerk to me. Plus, I’m under a love spell. What would that be like, to feel a strong emotion that’s not authentic?

A familiar spark grew inside of me. I squirmed in recognition. I had felt the princesses’ emotions, but they were still secondhand. A love potion would do the same thing—take away the honesty of emotion. I understood Titania—she believed in a feeling that wasn’t real. The spark grew until I almost burst. I was so Titania in that moment, I could have sprouted fairy wings and flown across the theater.

When I said my lines, Reed’s mouth went slack.

“What?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Wow.”

Wow was right. It took another scene before I stopped shaking. It reminded me of this time when I was seven, when my family was in an accident that totaled my mom’s car. Everyone was fine, but I remember sitting on the curb, nearly in shock and dizzy from the adrenaline. This feeling wasn’t as intense, but the buzzing topped any sugar or caffeine rush I’d ever had.

I was back to regular Desi by the end of the read-through, which Reed was right about—take away the Titania moments, and the last two hours made my Top Ten Most Tiring Moments of My Life list, right after my dance with Gavin. We slumped out of the theater looking defeated, Mrs. Olman especially. It was hard to imagine how those words—words half of us couldn’t even pronounce well, let alone understand—were going to transform into something watchable or entertaining.

Once I was outside, though, I stopped to smile at the warmth of the sun. So it wasn’t my favorite play ever. So what. I’d gotten a big part in a HIGH SCHOOL PLAY. That play could have been
Fluffy the Bunny Hops to Happyland
and I would have been stoked.

I wandered over to the football-field entrance, where I’d told my mom to pick me up. Almost everyone else had cars or friends with cars, and I didn’t want to be the loser eighth grader waiting for mommy directly in front of the school. I dropped my backpack and gulped some water from the drinking fountain. Reed was standing next to me when I came up. “Did you do what I told you to?” he asked.

I grabbed my chest. “Ahhh! You scared me. What’s with everyone popping up on me like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” I took a few deep breaths.

“So when you read those lines…what did you do differently?”

“Oh. Um…” I still didn’t know
what
I had done. Genevieve said it wasn’t possible for me to use my magic in my real life, yet I knew something had happened. I could tell by how I felt, by other’s reactions. I doubted the other actors thought they were about to get “fairified.” It wasn’t normal. Maybe it was a touch of magic, not enough for the agency to be aware of it, but enough to give me a push. Or maybe it was more, and I needed to tell Genevieve? I’d have to think about that. “I don’t know. What you said. I tried to feel what the character felt.”

“Did you do that when you auditioned?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Pretty much. Why, did I suck?”

“No. You…you’re…really talented, Desi.”

I blushed at the unexpected compliment. “Well, that was just a few lines. You were on all day.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. But you…you should do whatever you just did again. Every time.”

“Um, all right.”

Reed stared at me a couple more seconds. I was starting to wonder if staring at people so long was some New Zealand thing that didn’t translate into our culture.

“So, I’m going to go.” I backed away from his unflinching gaze. “Uh…bye.”

Reed stepped forward, and I caught another whiff of his cologne. Wow, where did he buy that stuff? “Wait. Sorry, I’m acting weird, aren’t I?”

I didn’t answer.

“I do that sometimes. Sorry.” He fiddled with his backpack strap. “I’m trying to figure you out. Because, you know, we’ll be acting together, so it helps if you have a sort of understanding of your scene mate.”

“Staring someone down doesn’t get you understood. It gets you slapped.”

Reed cracked a smile. “You’ve got to be the funniest American I’ve met.”

“On behalf of my country, thank you.”

“Here, I’ll tell you what.” He tapped my leg with his foot. “Let me prove to you I’m not crazy. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You have a car?” I asked. It wasn’t unheard of for ninth graders to drive—the Idaho driving age was fifteen.

“Ah, not yet. But I do have Lola.” He pointed at the sole bike on the bike rack. A tandem bike.

“You ride a two-person bicycle by yourself?”

“Got her at a garage sale this summer.” Reed walked over and kicked a tire. “The couple that bought her broke up, and it hurt the poor guy to look at it. I swindled it for thirty bucks. Decent workout, but it’s definitely better if you have another rider. Increases velocity. So are you in?”

“My mom is supposed to pick me up.”

“Call her.”

I chewed on my lip. I’d never ridden a two-person bike; it looked like fun. If only I could swap places with Kylee right now and let her bike with Reed. But she was still in the band room, so the next best thing was to hang out with Reed
for
her, right?

“Okay.” I texted my mom. Even if she missed the text, chances were she’d notice a tandem bike on the road. “Anything I should know?”

“I’m the captain, you’re the stoker. Which basically means I steer, brake, and yell if we hit a wall. You have the difficult job of taking in the scenery.”

“Let’s not harm any walls on this journey, okay?”

Reed gave me his helmet, and I swung my leg over the side of the bike. He eased onto the front seat and tooted his horn. “You ready?”

Again, a whole conversation without mentioning Kylee. I was a lousy friend. “One more thing. You know how you said I was the funniest girl you’ve ever met?”

“Funniest American.”

“Sure. Wait until you get to know Kylee. She’s hilarious.”

Reed turned around and gave me a weird look. “That was the most random thing you’ve ever said.”

“Just pedal.”

Reed steered us out of the parking lot and onto a back road. His calm control made up for my wobbliness. He called out whenever he made a turn or saw a bump. I pointed out Sproutville landmarks. Or, rather, made up landmarks.

“See that house?” I pointed to a white brick rambler.

“Yeah?”

“Mark Twain used to live there.”

“Huh? The guy who wrote
Tom Sawyer
?”

“Close. Actually, it’s an auto tech named Mark Wayne.”

Reed laughed. I liked his laugh. And despite his weird staring problem, Reed was easy to talk to. I didn’t get why Kylee froze up around him.

Mom was pulling out of the driveway when we biked up. She unrolled her window and stuck her head out. “When you texted that you were riding a two-person bike, I thought it was a joke.”

“No, Mom. Tandem biking is very serious.” I hopped off the bike and handed Reed his helmet. When he stuck it on, a strand of hair got in his eye. I almost brushed it away, just to be nice, but stopped myself because…because I don’t know why.

“Do I get an introduction?” Mom asked. “Aren’t you the nice boy who saved Desi from that dunk tank?”

“Yep, that’s me. Dunk Tank Superhero. Saving the world one drowned girl at a time.”

“Oh, you’re a charmer.” Mom giggled. “Isn’t he
charming
, Desi?”

I rolled my eyes. “Bye, Reed.”

“Thanks for the pedal power.” He honked his horn and biked away.

“You didn’t tell me
Reed
is in the play.”

“There are a lot of boys in the play.” I started to walk toward the house. “It’s Shakespeare—there used to be ONLY boys in his plays.”

“That’s fine. But I’m here if you want to talk about it more.” Mom closed the door behind us and hung her keys on the hook.