The Truth About Fragile Things Page 18

  “Then get chocolate, dummy. Or just try some of mine. It’s like an adventure.”

  It looked more like ice cream with pepper in it than an adventure. She popped a bite of jalapeño in her mouth and blinked, her lips morphing as she tried to keep a smile. “Yummy,” she choked.

  I shifted the shopping bag at my feet, already regretting the shirt I bought. “I think it looks like I’m trying too hard. It’s too dressy,” I murmured, opening the bag to see if it was better than I remembered. It wasn’t.

  “It looked amazing on you. You just have to be breezy. When you wear that shirt, forget everything and walk around breezy. Think of it like a character you’re playing.” I noticed her reposition her cup, placing the jalapeño farthest from her before going in for banana cream pie.

  “I don’t feel breezy.”

  “There’s some truth. Sing it, sister.” She paused with her spoon upside down between her lips. She always flipped her spoon and ate ice cream upside down. I’d never asked her why. “If I really must I will take the shirt for you. To be a good sister. And you will tell me what is wrong.”

  I glanced at the counter to see if there were listening ears in the very small shop, but the server had stepped into the back room. “People are acting weird.”

  “You being one of them,” she pointed out. “Who else?”

  “Phillip and Charlotte.”

  “How so?” She loaded her spoon and held it out to me. “This one is pomegranate. It’s good.”

  I shook my head. “There’s a weird dynamic going on. At first I knew she liked him—”

  Lauren interrupted to make sure we were talking about the same kind of like and I assured her we were. She squeezed her hand into a fist.

  “But the weird thing is that now I think he likes her. Honestly likes her.”

  “Oh, no she doesn’t. She can’t have him.” Lauren pounded the table and her water jumped inside her cup.

  “Please don’t you get weird. I completely promise there are boys who are better for you than Phillip. Don’t get hung up on him.”

  “Too late. And if I can’t get hung up on him, why are you?”

  “I’m not!” My exasperated sigh exposed all of my frustration. “Why can’t anyone understand that I have no desire to give Phillip my attention? I just got used to his.”

  Lauren started laughing so I had to try again. “I don’t want him to love me. I just don’t want him to ignore me. And when she is around he ignores me. He can barely even act with me anymore. And she is way too young for him and her dad died saving my life and Phillip is—and I admit this reluctantly—my best friend and you tell me that isn’t a weird dynamic.”

  “Bizarre.” She ruminated over her last bite of bacon gelato, trying to decide whether she should go in for the jalapeño again. “What boy do you think would be better for me?”

  “Lauren, can you be serious?”

  “Can you be not serious?” she countered.

  I blew out a quiet breath and took a sip of her water. “Probably not.”

  “Then I win, because I can be both. I’ll be serious.”

  “It’s not Phillip I’m most afraid of losing. He’s Phillip. He’ll be around. He’ll come around. Even if he forgets it right now we sort of need each other. At least through the end of high school.” I imagined the crowded halls, the problems I didn’t care about, the dramas I didn’t get sucked into, the way people accepted me as part of their world when I walked close enough to him. Even the way people forgave him his stupidities when they saw him walking close enough to me. “It’s Charlotte,” I confided. “She’s pulled away and hasn’t talked to me about the list at all. She’s volatile. What if she kicks me out? Doesn’t let me finish it?”

  “Hold that thought.” Lauren hopped up and scurried to the cash register to put in another order. She came back with three more scoops: chocolate, vanilla and chocolate chip. “The chocolate chips are just to be wild,” she teased and pushed it toward me. “Eat it. It helps.”

  “You said you would be serious.”

  “I’m being very serious,” she promised. “If Charlotte is stupid and doesn’t want you for a friend, then you still have the list. You can finish it by yourself. I’ll do it with you.”

  I took the miniature spoon and filled it with vanilla. Before I put it in my mouth I turned it upside down, just to see. The cold reminded me waking up in the grass after the meteor shower, the way Charlotte’s sleeping face looked like someone dreaming of falling stars. And I knew, had probably always known, that it would mean so much more to Bryon if we did it together.

  Lauren’s new highlights shimmered in the sunlight that stretched through the tall windows. “Why do you put your spoon in your mouth upside down when you eat ice cream?” I asked.

  She smiled, all light from her eyes to her teeth to her glowing hair. “It tastes better.”

  And I wished with all my heart I could find something inside myself that was that simple. “There are boys better for you. Boys that wouldn’t flirt with every girl in school when they are dating you. There are quiet boys.”

  “I don’t do the shy guy thing,” Lauren announced.

  “No, not shy.” I sifted through my memories, tried not to realize that there was one face coming into focus. “Quiet. I like the ones who know how to be quiet sometimes.”

  Lauren laughed and stole some of my chocolate. “I would pay money to see you on a date with a quiet boy. Fifty bucks says no one would speak until dessert.”

  “I’d pay money to see you on a date,” I shot back. “Fifty bucks says you’d steal his dessert.”

  Lauren looked outside, amusement smothering her expression. “Let’s go ice skating when it gets cold.”

  So simple.

  CHAPTER 29

  On Monday I did my best to breeze into Mrs. Schatz’s room for lunch (I went for broke and wore the shirt), but I almost tripped over Phillip who was lounging by the door, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he talked to Schatz.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him as I steadied myself.

  “I have no idea. I was summoned.” He motioned to Schatz who gave us both a grim nod.

  “Sit, Megan. We’re discussing,” she informed me and joined us at the table where Phillip was trying not to look too interested. I followed directions and sat down, slowly and carefully laying out my usual bagel with hummus.

  “I want to know things. And I will keep you both here and write notes to your teachers and lock my next class out in the hallway until you both tell me things.” Her heavy eyebrows that were graying at the edges lowered and pushed her blue eyes into a glare. “And,” she added loudly, holding up her hand, “I want nothing boring. So what is boring? Teenage love affairs are boring. Unfounded angst is boring. You better have something better than that to explain what is going on with you two at rehearsals.”

  Phillip’s face was pink despite his bland expression. He swallowed against whatever emotion he felt and his jaw was too tight for me to believe he was relaxed. “Megan’s mad at me,” he grumbled.

  My mouth fell open, indignation shooting from the center of me like a flare lighting the dark sky. “I never said I was mad at you. You have been sulking at me for over a week. And only because I told you not to mislead people about me and not to mess around with a freshman.”

  “I’m not messing around with a freshman.” He leaned forward, matching my temper and pulled his legs in closer as if readying himself to stand and fight.

  “I’m not kidding. This is very close to sounding juvenile. And if there is something I will not tolerate from my best actors it is letting a juvenile argument screw up my play.” Schatz’s hand slammed the tabletop and I jerked back in surprise.

  “It’s not juvenile and it’s not a love affair. Phillip and I have never loved each other.” I tried to restrain my voice, pull it in to calmer decibels.

  “Well I’m glad you figured that out. That’s usually half the problem—kids thinking they
love someone they don’t.” Schatz leaned closer to Phillip, scrutinized every twitch of every muscle while she stared him down.

  “Okay, guilty,” he admitted, grinding his fist into his other hand. “But that was a long time ago. I know I don’t love her anymore. Oh, for the love of…do we have to talk about this?”

  “Only because you are a disaster on stage this week. I would much rather be enjoying my chicken sandwich, believe you me.” Schatz huffed and looked at her food.

  “I killed Charlotte’s father,” I said just loud enough so I would not have to repeat the words.

  The annoyed look on Phillip’s face fell like a drop of water diving off the falls.

  Schatz closed her mouth, her eyebrows rolling through shock and disbelief in an almost fluid movement. She finally spoke, her voice low and level. “You…” she paused, thought through her sentence, “will need to explain that, please.”

  I did. Explained it like I read it from a textbook, recited the story robotically while Phillip rested his chin on his hands, his fingers stroking his mouth that was pushed into a worried line. I sensed at one point he wanted to put a hand on my shoulder and that was a comfort because it was the first time he had voluntarily moved toward me in days. I never took my eyes off my hands in my lap so by the time I finished I was embarrassed by how chipped and uneven my nails were.

  “Well that,” Schatz whispered, her face white, “is not boring.”

  “Braden was right about the campout,” I told her, finally looking up. “The three of us went camping last weekend but our parents don’t know. We did four things on the bucket list. And everything was fine until I realized Charlotte was getting really attached to Phillip.”

  “Never, ever say ‘our parents don’t know’ to a teacher,” she replied weakly.

  “Why does it have to be so bad if she has a crush on me? Why can’t we humor her?” Phillip asked, his voice pleading and defiant at the same time.

  “Because this isn’t a game. I owe Charlotte things. And I introduced you to her. If you hurt her then I didn’t do my job. I can’t go more in debt, Phillip.” I pulled my hair behind my ear, raised my eyes to him, let him see the truth of the words. Sometimes when I let myself speak I tell myself things I didn’t know I knew.

  “I’m not going to hurt her. I helped her. You two couldn’t have done all those things without me. You didn’t even know about the meteor shower.” He turned his head aside. “How about for an experiment, Megan, you don’t treat me like a problem.”

  “I wasn’t trying to.” I appealed to Schatz, hoping she would tell him he was being ridiculous. Instead she let the corner of her mouth fall in pity, but said nothing. “I’ve never thought of you as a problem, Phillip. You are, inexplicably, my best friend.”

  He reached over and laid his fist gently on my knee, a shadow of a smile in his eyes. “Will you ever be able to say it without it being a joke?”

  “That’s what we do. We joke.” I choked on the words, fighting for composure.

  “I know,” he admitted. “I will shape up on stage. I won’t let you two down anymore.” He jerked his chin toward Schatz, the small movement a promise.

  “You don’t let me down,” I argued, caring more about the real problem than the play. “And what about Charlotte?”

  “You are just going to have to let me handle that.”

  I tried one more time. “And what about the list, Phillip? What if Charlotte gets mad at me and won’t let me finish the list?” I took a breath to cool the heat in my face. “Did you ever think about how important it is to me to do something for Bryon and Charlotte? Did you consider that this is one of the very few things I can actually give her? This is about more than you and another adoring fan.”

  Schatz gave a low whistle.

  “I’m not the only one not considering possibilities,” Phillip shot back, his wide mouth pinched and worried.

  I scanned his face, wished I could reach out and touch him with the easiness I used to. “What am I missing?”

  His dark eyes met mine with a gravity I didn’t recognize; the mischievous light burned out. “Did you ever think that I might actually like her?”

  The cold truth hit like a snowball against my stomach. I answered with one honest word. “No.” But when no one acknowledged me, I realized I’d only said it inside my head.

  Schatz put her large hand momentarily over his. “Be that as it may,” she said gently, “and you will both have to work that out if it is, personal problems don’t mess up a show. I’ve never let them before and I won’t let them now.” She gave Phillip’s hand several firm pats. “You be the friend you’ve always been and help Megan finish that list. Everything else comes after that. Deal?” Her stern eyes held his in a challenge. “Except my show. That comes first, always.”

  He blinked and nodded. “I promise.”

  I fought the wetness behind my eyes, stinging along my lashes.

  “So, tell me about this camping trip,” Schatz said to Phillip.

  “I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he hedged.

  “Let’s risk it.” She leaned forward, her chin planted on her hand, her eyes alert with curiosity.

  They shared one laugh and I was, once again, odd Megan out.

  CHAPTER 30

  I think Phillip regretted admitting his feelings to me because the rest of the week he stumbled and tripped over an uncomfortable formality. He was too polite, too correct, too nice. He swallowed self-consciously whenever I spoke to him, trailed off without finishing his punch lines, lost all of his ease and grace, and avoided standing too close to anyone, especially Charlotte. But on stage he was warm and professional, no longer scared to touch me. It was only there I found pieces of him.

  With Phil slowly returning to normal, I turned all of my focus on Charlotte, determined to have her outshine every junior and senior on the stage. And for the first time, she let me tell her what to do.

  “Before you walk out, close your eyes and see everything. Not the stage—Belinda’s reality. And when it is completely real in your head ignore everything you see,” I told her as we stepped around Taylor who was adjusting her skirt and glancing up at the sound booth.

  “That makes no sense,” Charlotte said, letting me position her stage left to run through a scene.

  “Perfect. Keep your shoulders open when you pause here,” I said before returning to our conversation. “Then I didn’t say it right. Let your head be so full of her reality that you can’t even see any of this. Not the seats or the lights or the crews or anything. Can you do that?”

  “Do you really do that?” she asked. “Actually not see any of this?”

  “It honestly works,” I promised. “I forget about all of it. If I can do it, you can do it.”

  She smiled up at me, her mouth curved by something more than happiness or a joke. It was trust.

  “I’ll be Phil,” I told her and snapped my fingers. “Shoulders open.”

  “You sound like Schatz,” she said in a low grumble. And then she twisted her body obediently and started the scene, her chin tilted slightly up, just like mine.

  Friday after rehearsal I was tired down to the bones, dreaming of hot food and an early bedtime, but there was something more important than solitude and sleep. I grabbed a handful of Phillip’s coat and a handful of Charlotte’s and pulled them both close to me.

  “Pizza?” I asked.

  They both agreed so quickly I knew they were as anxious as me to be alone and to talk. We piled into my car, Phillip taking the front seat. I didn’t let the satisfaction show, but it felt right to have him slide in next to me, easy and casual. I took them to the same shopping center where Lauren and I always went and we settled into a corner booth inside California Pizza Kitchen. It took ten minutes to come to an agreement on what pizza to share, but after we placed our order there was an awkward lull.

  That was when I realized I had no idea how to start the conversation. Gone were the old jokes and fast quips. Since I don’t pull o
ff funny very well I decided to go straight for the heart of the manner. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the list.” Charlotte fidgeted next to Phil, constantly readjusting how close or far to sit from him. She finally settled and looked up at me. I continued, “I know we can’t do the rafting until spring, but I still want to keep working on it.”

  Phillip slid his root beer over and wiped the trail of cold water his cup left on the wooden table. “How? Charlotte’s not getting married and rafting is all we have left beside walking her down the aisle. Unless she needs to be in the play to have her performance count.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about. There’s not a lot left. Charlotte,” she stopped twisting her cloth napkin when I addressed her, “you’ve always said your dad didn’t finish the list.”

  “Yeah…” she pulled out the word, not trusting wherever I was going.

  “So, I think, we don’t just fulfill his partial list— we finish it.”

  They grew still, their ears soaked in the words until realization appeared in their eyes. Charlotte spoke up first. “How in the world can we finish his list? Do you have a Ouija board Megan, because he’s dead.”

  I was prepared for the sarcasm and just as I’d promised myself when I’d come up with this plan, I ignored it. “I know that. And I know we don’t know what he would have written. He probably didn’t know. That’s why he stopped. But if we all add something, maybe if we’re lucky, it will be something he would have wanted to do, too.” All my courage was seeping out. If Phillip thought it was stupid I would have to drop it.

  “You mean all three of us come up with whatever we want?” he asked. “And we add it to Bryon’s list?”

  “That was my idea. If you have a better one…” Despite my intentions my last words came out defensive.

  “I don’t have anything else,” he said. “But are there rules? Like how insane can they be?”

  “Insane isn’t the point,” I told him. “The point is to make ourselves do something better than just…normal. The point is we hope he’s watching and knows we are really trying. For him.”