Beauty (18 page)

“And I don’t know,” Hudson said. “I just keep getting this weird sense that most of the people out there are here to see
you
.” He shook his head. “Ridiculous, right?”

“Yeah.” I looked down at the floor, letting out a nervous laugh. It wasn’t, though. Even Hayley had noticed it. It was like that aura I’d sensed when I first looked at myself in the mirror—that invisible thing that just drew people to me, like bees to honey—was only growing stronger. A terrible thought struck me suddenly. Was that why Hudson was here with me? Because some greater force was drawing him to me? I shook my head, shoving the thought away. Even if it was, did it matter? He was here. That’s what counted. “I’m not sure I want to face the masses again,” I joked.

“I have an idea,” Hudson said slowly. He rested his hand on my shoulder and I felt an involuntary tremor run through me. “Want to get out of here for a bit? Go for a walk or something?”

“Definitely,” I said. “But how?” I looked helplessly at the throngs of people blocking the way to the door.

Hudson rubbed his hands together mischievously. “I know a way.”

He led me through a back exit behind the bathrooms, where the trash cans were. According to a sign above the door, the exit was alarmed, but Hudson promised me the alarm hadn’t worked for years.

“Freedom,” I breathed as we made our way onto the sidewalk, Scoop’s chatter drifting into the distance behind us. “How did you know about that?”

“I used to work at Scoop,” he explained. “Before I joined the football team.”

“Really?” I tried to picture him in the white hat and red-and-pink-striped apron all the Scoop employees wore. “I never saw you there. And I was kind of a Scoop regular.”

“Probably because I had the morning shift. I served more Belgian waffles with ice cream than I like to recall.”

“Ice cream for breakfast? That’s brilliant. How could I have possibly not known Scoop had that?”

“Most parents like to keep it secret,” Hudson said knowingly.

I shook my fist in the air, feigning fury. “I’m going to have to have a talk with my dad.”

Hudson laughed and then we both fell quiet, walking slowly along, our hands swinging in sync between us. The sun had just set in the sky and the air was warm and dark, draping over the town like an old worn-in blanket. Hudson’s finger grazed against mine and when he looked over at me, his gaze felt hot on my skin.

“It’s nice out,” I said, looking up at him. His eyes looked darker than usual in the moonlight and I couldn’t make myself look away. “The perfect nigh—”

I was going to say the perfect night for a walk. I was going to say the perfect night for a walk, then brush my arm softly against his, accidentally on purpose.

But all that came out was
the perfect nigh
—because at that second a squirrel darted across the sidewalk, right in front of us, and I had to take an extra-long step to avoid it, which of course made me lose my balance, and suddenly I was teetering in the air, grabbing onto Hudson’s arm to catch myself, and then I was falling, falling, falling, and bringing him down with me. Accidentally
not
on purpose.

We landed in a tangled clump on the grass next to the sidewalk. My head was buried in some kind of weedy plant, and I lay perfectly still, refusing to lift it. I was mortified. It was one thing to fall. It was another thing to bring the boy you’d had a crush on for two years down with you. There was no way Hudson was ever going to talk to me again after this. Why oh why couldn’t I have gotten new
feet
along with my new face?

Next to me, I heard a chuckle. Then another. I peeked up from the plant with one eye. Hudson was lying on his side, one foot buried in a bush. And he was smiling. “Molly Davis,” he said, reaching over to push a strand of hair out of my face. “Armed and dangerous on the sidewalks of Main Street.”

I wrinkled my brow. He didn’t seem angry. In fact, he seemed kind of … amused. Tentatively I pulled myself onto my elbows. “I forgot to tell you,” I said slowly. “Puppet Master Molly’s just one of my nicknames. Faceplant Molly is another.”

Hudson laughed as he untangled himself from me, then helped us both stand up. “Well, you’ll never be Boring Molly, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment?”

“You should.” Hudson took a step closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I like that about you, Molly. You keep things interesting.” His voice was soft, husky, and suddenly his head was lowering and his lips were coming closer and closer and closer… .

He was going to kiss me. My whole body felt electric, like there were a million little sparks flickering inside me. I tilted my head up to meet his and—

“Molly! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Both Hudson’s and my head snapped up.

Hayley was standing across the street, hands on her hips as she smiled widely at us.

I took a step back, away from Hudson. “Hey, Hayley.”

“I wanted to see if you wanted a ride home,” Hayley said. “Since it’s getting close to your curfew and your bike will fit in my mom’s car.”

I looked over at Hudson, hoping he’d jump in and say he’d take me home. But he just nodded me on. “Go ahead,” he said. “Your bike won’t fit in my car.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to mask my disappointment. I knew he was right—a bike would never fit in his Mini Cooper—but I wished we could have that moment back: his head above mine, lowering … I cleared my throat. “You want to head back with us?”

“Nah.” Hudson shook his head. “I’m not ready for that crowd again yet. I think I’m just going to walk a bit more.”

“Okay. See you at school tomorrow?”

He gave my hand a quick squeeze. “See you tomorrow, Faceplant Molly.”

“Faceplant Molly?” Hayley asked as we headed back to Scoop to meet her mom. “What was
that
about?”

“That?” I glanced back at Hudson. He was walking slowly along, hands in his pockets. He looked deep in thought. “Oh, nothing,” I said, smiling to myself as I turned back around. “Just a little joke we have.”

If the Shoe Fits

AS KEMPER AND I headed into school Thursday morning, we passed by two big boxes sitting at the top of the steps. One was painted pink, and one blue. NOMINATE YOUR PROM KING AND QUEEN HERE, the sign above them read. NOMINATIONS CLOSE AT NOON ON MONDAY!

“You nominating anyone?” I asked Kemper.

Kemper gave the box for queen a light kick. “Nominate a future trophy wife of America? No thanks.”

“There’s always king,” I offered.

Kemper gave that box a kick too. “What, help pick Ohio’s future failed-football-star-turned-
Playgirl
-centerfold? I’ll pass.” I laughed, but I couldn’t help but glance back at the boxes as we headed inside.

The day passed in a whirlwind of smiles and waves and hellos. By the time the last bell rang, I was looking forward to hunkering down on the floor with Stacey and letting the smell of freshly cut wood and buckets of paint lull me. But when I walked into the auditorium, I found it abuzz with chaos.

“What’s going on?” I asked Stacey, watching curiously as Sally, our student director, Jamar, our male lead, and Mrs. Brown, our faculty sponsor, huddled together at the front of the stage, talking frantically. Sally’s hands were flying through the air, and Jamar looked ready to burst into tears at any moment.

“Margot’s got mono,” Stacey informed me.

Margot was the lead in the play. “Oh, man, Cinderella caught mono? Well, what about Tia?” Along with being Margot’s understudy, Tia was also her biggest rival. The two of them were always competing to win the lead in every play, and I had a feeling Tia wouldn’t be too devastated about having to step in and save the day.

“Tia has mono too. And so does”—she paused, making it clear this was going to be
good
—“Ryan Mitchell.”

My eyes widened. “You mean … ?”

“Uh-huh.” Stacey nodded gleefully. “Apparently he’d been seeing them both.
And
Tricia Hayward.”

“Oh no,” I breathed. Tricia Hayward had been out of school for the last few weeks with a nasty case of mono. “Drama.”

“And not the stage kind,” Stacey agreed.

“So what are we going to do?” The play had faced tons of hurdles before, but losing both our lead actress and her understudy in one fell swoop definitely trumped them all.

Stacey gestured toward Sally, Jamar, and Mrs. Brown. “That’s what they’re trying to figure out.” I took a few steps closer, straining to hear their conversation.

“What about Melissa?” I heard Jamar suggest.

Sally shook her head. “She’s not right for the part.” She paused, thinking. “What about Ashley Coolidge? She looks the part at least.”

“No
way
is she going to learn a whole play’s worth of lines in two weeks,” Jamar balked.

“What about Molly?” Mrs. Brown offered. “Hasn’t she been running Margot’s lines with her the past few weeks?”

“Huh,” Sally said. Both she and Jamar looked in my direction. I took a step back, shaking my head.

“She does know all the lines,” Jamar said thoughtfully.

“And she looks the part,” Sally added.

They both nodded at Mrs. Brown. “It could work,” Jamar said.

“What do you say, Molly?” Mrs. Brown asked. “Want to take over for Margot? Be our Cinderella?”

I took another step backward. “I …” I faltered. I wasn’t meant to be on stage. It didn’t matter that I had this new face. I was meant to be backstage, behind the curtain. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I finished faintly.

But no one seemed to be paying attention. Around me, everyone was talking excitedly, like I’d already said yes. “She’s perfect,” I heard someone say.

“Who wouldn’t believe her as a princess?” someone else added.

“Please, Molly?” Sally walked over and grabbed my hands, looking at me pleadingly. “You do know the lines, right?”

“Yeah,” I murmured. I couldn’t lie; I did. Thanks to all the times I’d run through Margot’s lines with her in study hall, I knew them backward and forward by now.

“If you don’t do this, I think we might really be screwed.” Sally looked like she was ready to get down on her knees and beg if she had to. “We might even have to shut down the play.”

“But the set …” I tried. “Stacey needs me.” I looked over at Stacey, hoping she’d swoop in and save me, saying the set would never make it without me, but she just gave me a thumbs-up.

“The set’s almost done, Molly,” she said. “You should do it.”

“Please,” Sally said again. I took a deep breath. The whole stage had fallen silent, everyone waiting expectantly for my answer.

“Okay.” I sighed. How could I say no? “I’ll do it.” The whole stage erupted in cheers.

“You’ll be great, Molly,” Jamar promised me.

“A star,” Sally added.

I gave them a weak smile. “I hope so.”

“All right, let’s get started!” Mrs. Brown clapped her hands together. “We’ll start with scene one. That means you’re center stage, Molly.”

I felt several beads of sweat form on my forehead as I took my place. The great thing about set design was that it allowed you to stay hidden. Here, on center stage, all eyes were on me. I could hear the play’s opening lines in my head as everyone shuffled around me, taking their places. A
nother morning, another subway ride
. But they felt lodged deep inside me, like I needed a shovel to dig them out. Everyone was silent, waiting for me.

“Another morning, another subway ride,” Mrs. Brown said gently from offstage.

I nodded. “Another morning, another …” My voice cracked a little, and I quickly cleared my throat. “Another subway ride.” Someone switched the spotlight on and a circle of light blasted down, blinding me. I cleared my throat again. “And outside,” I continued, “that stretch limo, just waiting for my sisters.”

“Good,” I heard Mrs. Brown whisper. Encouraged, I kept going, each line coming out more easily. It helped having the spotlight on me like that. It made everyone else feel farther away, like I was alone on the stage in a shower of light.

My voice grew stronger as I recited my lines, and muscle by muscle, my body relaxed. The words began to feel less like lines to me and more like life. It was like my world was melting away, and in its place New York City was spilling in, with its subways and galas and singing rats. And it felt right. Natural. I understood this character—a girl who had nothing, who wanted so badly to become someone new, to shed her old life like a second skin. And then almost overnight, she does, and it’s like magic. I knew exactly how she felt: amazed and thrilled and excited, but scared too. Because what if it’s all fleeting? What if one day she’s wearing that glass stiletto and the next day it shatters and she’s nothing but a maid again?

The rehearsal flew by and, before I knew it, I was saying the final line. “It’s New York City,” I said, my voice loud and clear. “If I made it happily ever after here, I can make it anywhere!” I pretended to dangle a glass shoe in the air. “As long as I have my Manolos, of course… .”

A hush fell over the room as the spotlight shut off. I blinked a few times in the sudden darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw more and more people staring at me, several jaws agape. “Wow,” Sally breathed, breaking the silence.