Audition & Subtraction (13 page)

It was too dark to see, but I was pretty sure his cheeks had just turned red. And he suddenly seemed all interested in the sky again.

“So what are you looking at, anyway?” he asked.

“The North Star.” I pointed. “It's the end of the handle of the Little Dipper.”

“That one?”

I nodded. “I could just tell her you can't go.”

“But she'd still think we're together, right?”

I kicked at the base of the wall. “Would that be the worst thing? If people thought we were?”

“I don't know. Would it?” he asked, a funny catch in his voice.

He probably thought I was crazy to ask. Maybe I was. “I just want things to be the way they were. Nothing has felt right since Michael moved here.”

As I said the words, I realized it was a lot more than that. It was Lori losing weight and changing into someone I didn't always recognize. It was Dad moving out, and Andrew sleeping over there, and Mom gone to rehearsals, and the house always empty. It was my whole family shifting away from me in every direction. And now Lori was moving further away, too … slipping
out of my reach. It wasn't enough to try and hold on. I had to catch up—or I'd be left behind.

“If I have a boyfriend,” I told Aaron, “then we're equal again. And nothing has to change.”

He smoothed back his hair. “Obviously, you never went to science camp, or you'd know about the Uncertainty Principle.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” I muttered.

“It just means you can't predict how things will react, because everything changes. Even the stars change.”

I shook my head. “Not to me they don't. Yeah, they may move across the sky, but they move together. It's not like the Big Dipper says, ‘See ya,' and takes off without the Little Dipper.”

He smiled. “You're really into astronomy, huh?”

“My dad got me started. He told me about the constellations when I was little, only he called them families. Star families. I always liked that.”

The noise from the gym had died down, and I could hear Aaron sigh softly. He looked older with his hair pushed back, and it was kind of nice to see his face when I talked to him. It was a nice face—wide-set eyes, straight nose, and his lips were … well, nice.
What is it with me and Aaron's lips?
I looked away and twisted my fingers together.

“You know,” he said, “we could go to the movies tomorrow night.”

I gave him a hopeful look. “Really?”

“But we'd have to act different, right? As if we liked each other?” I could see the gleam of his eyes as he studied me. “Could you do that?”

“It would be easy since we're such good friends,” I said. “Unless … do you think you could?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think so.”

“It wouldn't have to be weird,” I added. “We'll just be ourselves, except maybe we'll hold hands or something.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Like this?”

Before I could react, his fingers slid around mine. My breath caught as I felt a flash of warmth. Then a shock sparked from his hand to mine. I jerked my hand back. “Ouch! You gave me a shock.”

“I think that means we have good chemistry.”

“Or static cling.” My heart hopscotched across my chest. I scooted down the wall, putting space between us.

“It's still chemistry.”

“So I'll wear gloves tomorrow.” I crossed my arms, balling my hands into fists, and tried to breathe normally. It was Aaron, I reminded myself. Just
Aaron.
We'd worked in science lab with our shoulders pressed together and whacked each other's knees in band a million times. If we had chemistry, I'd have known it. It was just a regular shock—I got those all the time.

But I don't usually still feel the tingles a whole minute later
.

“Maybe it's better if we don't hold hands,” I said.

“That bad?” he asked.

I looked into his eyes and suddenly wished he hadn't changed his hair or dressed nicer or showed up looking so …
good
. “I don't want to make things weird with us, okay? You're my friend, Aaron, and I'd be a wreck without you. I mean, who else could I ask out on a fake date?” I laughed a little, but deep down I was dead serious. I'd shared stuff with Aaron I hadn't even told Lori. “It'll only be for a few days,” I promised. “On Sunday I'll tell Lori that we broke up.”

He got quiet for a second, then said, “We're only going to last for two days?” But I heard the note of teasing in his voice. “How'd we break up?”

I managed a normal breath. “Does it matter?”

“I don't want your friends thinking I'm a bad boyfriend.”

“I'll tell everyone you totally rocked. I'll blame it on my mom and say she got mad because I'm not allowed to go on dates until high school.”

“Really? You're not?”

“No, I can.” I frowned. “At least, I think I can. It's never come up.”

“Why not?”

“Because there's no one I've wanted to go out with.” I studied him a minute. “Why? Have you gone out before?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I had a girlfriend.”

“You did? Who?” I couldn't keep my voice from
rising.
Aaron had a girlfriend?
I couldn't picture it. Well, maybe I could—I'd just never tried to before.

“A girl at my temple.”

“You went
out
, out?”

“We hung out at bar mitzvah dances, temple parties, stuff like that.”

I squinted at him, not because it was dark, but because I felt like I was looking at someone I hadn't seen before. “So what happened?”

“I started liking someone else.”

“Who?”

“Just … someone else.” He stood up and glanced at the gym. “I'd better get back. I left my clarinet in the stands.”

I stood up, too. “Okay. And thanks again for doing this. I owe you.”

He started toward the gym, then stopped. I watched him slowly turn back to me, his face hidden in shadow.

“You know, Tay”—his voice was low, almost like it was part of the night—“if you spend all your time looking at the stars, you might miss what's going on right in front of your face.”

Then he disappeared into the dark.

“Mom?” I called. I ran down the stairs and around to the kitchen. Empty—just the slosh and hum of the dishwasher. We had to pick up Lori in fifteen minutes, or we'd be late for the movie. “Mom?” I called again.

I glanced at the hall clock as I jogged for her bedroom. I'd wasted forever looking for something decent to wear. I knew I had a crappy wardrobe, but tonight I'd hit a new low when I discovered a Hello Kitty T-shirt still hanging in the back of my closet. How was I supposed to fake-date without the right clothes? I'd finally settled on jeans and a green cami, figuring no one would notice because they'd be staring at my shiny, smooth hair. Except racing around the house in a panicked sweat was ruining the look (which took thirty minutes with a hair straightener!). No way was I going to be ready in time.

“MAHHHHHHM!” I scanned her empty room.

“In here,” she called from the direction of the bathroom.

I rounded the corner, and had just a second to register Mom standing by one of the double sinks. Then she whipped around, lunged forward, and shoved a squirt gun in my face. “Hold it, Babyface,” she hissed.

I gasped and tripped backward two steps.

This person—who I would never admit was my mother—stood decked out in a white dress, thick tan panty hose, and the ugliest white shoes I'd ever seen. She wiggled the gun and grinned. “What do you think?”

“You look like James Bond in a nurse's dress.”

She straightened and posed with the gun by her face. “Bond,” she said in a low voice. “
Jane
Bond.”

I groaned. “Promise me you'll never do that voice again.”

She laughed. “I'm just trying to get into character.”

Mom didn't look like herself, that was for sure. Her brown hair usually hung straight to the top of her shoulders, but she'd pinned it back in a bun. Her cheeks were accented with blush, and she'd outlined her lips in deep plum so her teeth looked really white.

I watched as she picked up something that could have doubled as a basketball net, and fitted it over her hair.

“What is that thing?”

“It's a hairnet, part of my costume.” She turned to
face me, her eyes glowing as bright as the mounted vanity lights. Or maybe it was all the purple eye shadow she'd put on. “I get to whip it off in the final act when it's revealed that I'm actually a bodyguard.”

I groaned again. It was either that or scream.

“It's a very interesting story,” she said. “A billionaire widow lives in a nursing home when she meets one of the residents and they fall in love. But her children are afraid he'll get her money.” Mom tapped her chest with the barrel of the gun. “I pretend to be her nurse, but secretly I'm there to keep this man away. With force, if necessary.” She grinned. “I'm just not sure where to carry the gun. What do you think? Should I strap it to my leg with a garter?”

“No!” I cried. “You cannot do that. You're my mother.”

“So?”

“So mothers do not wear garters and strap-on weapons.” I paused as a sudden horrified thought flashed through my brain. “You're not going out in public like that?”

“As a matter of fact,” she said, turning back to the mirror, “yes, I am.”

“Tonight?”

She leaned in closer and smoothed the blush at the top of her cheeks. “Mrs. Lansing and I are meeting a couple of the other cast members for coffee.”

“In your costumes?”

“We're going to try and stay in character. It's a
dramatic exercise.” She wiped a streak of plum lipstick off her tooth. “I'm looking forward to it.”

“You
are
?”

She glanced at me, annoyed, then adjusted the hairnet so her ears popped out. “Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?”

I blew out a breath. “I can't find my eye pencil. Can I use yours?”

“It's in the top drawer,” she said, gesturing. Then she tucked the gun in the thin white belt around her waist.

I rummaged through her makeup and found the smoky brown pencil. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her dab lip gloss with the tip of her pinky.

“I didn't know you liked acting so much,” I said. I ran the pencil along the inside of my bottom eyelid, then halfway along the top.

She put the cap on the lip gloss and leaned her hip against the counter. “It's something new, I admit. But why not give it a try?”

“Because you have to get up on stage looking like that. What if it's stupid?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “then I guess I look stupid.”

And even with all the bright purple makeup, her eyes seemed a little scared.

“Hold still,” she said softly. She leaned forward, and I felt her finger at the corner of my eye, smoothing out the pencil. “I don't know how this will turn out,” she admitted. “Maybe it won't be for me, but even if it isn't,
I'm still going to be glad I did it.” She straightened the strap of my cami. “After all, how will I know what I can or can't do, if I don't go out and try?”

“I guess,” I said. But I shuddered.

Mom laughed. “This from the girl who's going on a pretend date so she can hang out with her best friend who's dating a beady-eyed gorilla.”

I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed.

Maybe acting ran in the family.

The night began perfectly. Lori met me at her door, nearly shaking with excitement. “Hurry,” she'd said. “Before my dad changes his mind.” We'd run down her sidewalk, arm in arm, laughing about nothing. An earlier rain shower had left everything clean, and the air smelled of possibility. If you wanted to get technical, the air actually smelled like the purple lantana in Lori's yard, but to me, tonight, it seemed like excitement flowed from us and into the atmosphere.

Even if you ignored the part where this was our first ever double date (
as if
), tonight was still a major deal. This was the first time our parents had let us go to the movies on a Saturday night by ourselves. Even my nerves over the fakery couldn't stop the adrenaline that ran through me as the theater rolled into sight.

Rock music blared from speakers, and swinging
lights flashed across the crowded parking lot like a Hollywood premiere. I sat up higher, crossing a leg underneath so I could get a better view out the window as the car dipped in a rut and then bounced up. Groups of kids stretched along the sidewalk from the bookstore down past the yogurt place, the taco shop, the coffeehouse, and even beyond the actual movie theater.

Lori turned to look at me, and she grabbed my wrist for a quick squeeze. I nodded, wishing I had a camera so I could have a picture of this exact moment.

“This is ridiculous,” Mom said, craning her neck to see around the SUV ahead of us. Thankfully, she'd agreed to take off the hairnet for the drive over, and I didn't think Lori had noticed the nurse's dress. “The parking lot is wall to wall. Is every kid in Phoenix here?”

“Yep,” we said in unison.

Mom's eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. “I don't know if this is such a good idea.”

“Mom!” I leaned forward until my seat belt stopped me. “You promised.”

“I know, but …” Her gaze shifted to the crowds as we slowly rolled forward, the traffic moving by inches.

The sidewalks grew more and more crowded the closer we got to the theater. Up ahead, police cars were stationed along the curb, blue and red lights flashing for security.

“These kids all look like high schoolers,” Mom said, shaking her head.

“Look.” I pointed out the window. “There's Travis and Jerry and Caleb and Gavin. You know Gavin's mom, Mrs. Norton. They're all middle schoolers.”