manicpixiedreamgirl (10 page)

“I don’t even know why she likes me,” I say.

“Who? You mean Sydney or Becky?” Justin asks, rubbing his belly like it’s about to revolt again.

“Syd. I already know Becky doesn’t like me. Not like that, anyway.”

“You don’t know why Syd digs you?” Robby says. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because you’re swinging a poleax down there!”

I stare at him. “Dude … 
what
?”

“Hell yeah,” Robby goes. “I can tell just by looking at ya. There’s no cork in that bat. That’s a hundred percent American grade A steel, dude.”

“… What?”

“I think he’s saying you have a big dick,” Justin reports, and burps. He sighs happily afterward and sinks down on the bench. Belly crisis averted.

“Yeah, I got the tweet, but why’s he saying it?”

Justin shrugs. Robby laughs and punches my shoulder again. Ow. Again.

“I’m messing with you, Ty,” he says. “Damn, I thought the booze would relax you.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.” I am about as close to sober as a guy can get despite the alcohol. Maybe Western Flower is a cheap champagne.

“How do you know she doesn’t like you?” Justin asks. “Becky, I mean. Why’d she call you tonight if she didn’t have a thing for you?”

“We’re friends,” I remind him. This isn’t news.

Justin pulls on an extraordinarily doubtful look. Robby gets up and stands in front of me. “I don’t think friends do the kinda things she’s done,” he says. “I mean, talk about blue balls.”

I try to glare up at him.
He
knows that
I
know exactly what he’s referring to.

Robby ignores my glare and holds out his arms.

“Just sayin’,” he goes. “It wasn’t cool of her.”

Justin, on the other hand, I didn’t tell about the shower incident at Becky’s house. “Hold up,” Justin says. “What’d she do?”

“You wanna tell him, or you want me to?” Robby asks.

I wish my phone would ring again. Even if it’s Sydney.

Sydney and I didn’t sit near Becky at the drama club
meeting. We sat in the middle, surrounded by Syd’s
drama friends. And when I say “drama friends,” I mean
they were about the most dramatic bunch of people I’d
ever heard speak. You would’ve thought they were discussing which of them was going to win an Academy Award, the way they went on about casting for the next play,
To Kill a Mockingbird
.

“You are auditioning, right, Sydney?” some girl demanded. “Oh my god. You must. Positively. Oh my god!”

“Oh my god” was right. Their voices hurt my ears. I tried not to get caught watching Becky, who was sitting quietly in that corner chair, her backpack on her lap.

“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “Probably not, but it depends on how debate goes.”

Another girl, with hair dyed three different colors like a neon Neapolitan ice-cream cone, said, “What about your boyfriend?” and poked my ribs. “He should! He’s hot!”

It was the first time anyone had used those two words to describe me. You can figure out which two.

“Ah, no, no thanks,” I said, waving the Neapolitan girl off.

“We totally don’t have enough boys,” she pressed on. “Just, like, Matthew and them. You
have
to!”

Syd grinned at me. I forced myself not to glance in Becky’s direction.

“Well … we’ll see,” I said, hoping that would make them shut up.

“I will if you will,” Sydney said.

“Maybe I should start with lights or sound, like you said,” I reminded her.

We didn’t get to talk any more about it right then because the club officers—all juniors and seniors—ran into the room, whooping and screaming and waving their arms around.

I almost left right then. It was way too much energy for me. Robby and Justin were plenty.

Because the meeting was pretty much about boring stuff like the upcoming auditions and where the next speech tournament was, I clandestinely observed Becky. She barely moved a muscle. Just sat there, listening intently. At least she had taken a notebook out of her bag and took notes during all the announcements.

“Now, you guys, seriously,” the president of the club said, waving his arms in the air. What was it with drama kids and waving their arms? “We really need some fresh new techie blood for this show. Nick’s moving to New York …”

Everyone shouted “Boooo!” A stringy dude wearing a vest and bowler hat stood up, bowed, and sat back down.

“… which totally sucks,” the president said. “So we’re gonna need some people in the booth for this show. Ask your friends—”

“Tyler will do it!” Sydney shouted.

Fifty heads spun toward me. Mine spun toward Sydney. Syd sat on my right, and beyond her was Becky. Who also looked at me as if noticing for the first time that I was there.

Our eyes met. I wasn’t sure, but I think she smiled.

“Um,” I said.

“Is this your first meeting, Tyler?” the president asked.

“Uh … yeah.”

“VIRGIN ALERT!”
everyone screamed in unison. And they all pounded their feet on the floor and clapped while the officers took a lap around their chairs at the front of the room. Waving their arms, of course.

Believe it or not, for one heartbeat of time, I didn’t realize “virgin” meant it was my first
drama club meeting
. Me, insecure? Never.

While I tried to disappear into my seat, I noticed Becky smiling for real, clapping her hands with everyone else. Like she was really enjoying my embarrassment.

Sydney was too busy egging everyone on to notice me smile back at Becky.

Between Sydney and the whole damn club making such a big racket and the look on Becky’s face as she watched me, I pretty much had to say yes.

I gear up to tell Robby what he can do with my big dick, when my cell buzzes again.

“What did Becky do?” Justin demands from both of us. “C’mon, man!”

I check my phone. Sydney. Saved by the bell.

She’s texted me:
Which park?

I write:
Why?

If you can’t drive home I’ll make sure you get there. All 3 of you. Which park?

We’re fine
.

“Is that Syd?” Robby asks me as I type.

“Hey, Pink Floyd!” Justin croons, and falls off the picnic table bench laughing.
“ ‘I’ll see you on the dark side of the mooooooon!’ ”

I’m jealous of his condition. At least
he’s
having a good time. I should be too. It’s why we came here.

It’s too risky
, Sydney writes.
I won’t be able to sleep if I

My phone rings while I’m in the middle of reading her text.

Becky.

don’t know you got home in 1 piece so which park?

I hit the green button and put the phone up to my ear.

“Becky?”

“Hey,” she says. Her voice is heavy and soft, her nose vaguely plugged.

I don’t want to talk to her with the guys looming, so I head toward the parking lot.

“Excuse me, sir?” Robby calls.

Right. I throw my car keys at him and walk quickly toward the parking lot. Robby, clearly understanding I want to be alone and that I’m not going to try to drive off, lets me go. God bless ’im.

“You don’t sound so good, Mustardseed,” I say, once I’m far enough away that they can’t overhear me. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, the
usual
,” Becky says. Spite draws out the last word and hones it to a sharp point. “I’m reconsidering your offer to come by in a couple hours. What’re you up to tonight, exactly? I didn’t figure you for a drinking man.”

“Just hanging at the park with Robby and Justin. Celebrating, I guess.”

“Yeah? Celebrating what?”

“It’s nothing, just this magazine thing.”

“What magazine thing?”

I take a deep breath. I have to tread carefully here.

“I got this thing published in a magazine,” I say.

“Really? That’s great, Tyler. That’s awesome. Congrats, man.”

I hate it—
hate it
—when she calls me “man” like that. Something about the word or her delivery seems to cement my place in her world. That of Good Buddy. BFF. Like she’s just another guy.

Still. She’s happy for me. As happy as Becky is capable of being, anyway.

After being bullied into it by her drama friends, Sydney
ended up auditioning for
Mockingbird
, but she didn’t
get the part she wanted. She got no part at all, in fact.

“I’m sorry,” I told her at lunch the day the cast was
announced.

“Thanks, but it’s not a big deal. I’ve got a tournament on opening night anyway.”

“You’ll probably take State,” I said.

“Yeah?” Syd asked, eyeing me curiously, as if my encouraging her was a bad thing. “Why’s that?”

“You’re smart,” I said. “And you don’t get nervous in front of people. You think fast. It’s a great fit.”

Sydney smiled and gave me a kiss.

Secretly I was relieved about Syd not being in the play. Because Becky
did
get cast. Scout Finch. Pretty much the female lead.

Which, honestly, I didn’t understand. Even after her bouncy performance last year in
Midsummer
, I was having trouble reconciling the quiet girl who ate lunch by herself with the energetic performer I’d seen onstage. In my stories, my Becky character typically became a world-renowned actress. And now at least—at
last
—since I was on the tech crew for the show, I’d get a chance to watch her more closely, see how she was around other people. Maybe make sure she wasn’t actually dating someone from the drama department.

The first day of rehearsal scared me to death. I’d been elected to run the light board, and everyone involved in the show, from the director, Mrs. Goldie, to the makeup crew kids and technicians—or “techies”—like me had to be there for the first read-through.

I’d be in an after-school activity with Becky Webb. Exposed to a side of her I’d never gotten to see before. And vice versa. I just hoped I didn’t say or do something galactically stupid when she was around.

Turned out I didn’t have to say much of anything besides my name at the first rehearsal. We met in Mrs. Goldie’s classroom, where she’d moved all the desks into a big circle. She made everyone say their name and role or backstage position. So I said, “Tyler Darcy, lights,” and that was it.

Someone had to nudge Becky when it was her turn. She was studying her script so seriously she was biting her lower lip. Gotta say—it was kind of sexy.

“What? Oh. Becky Webb, I’m playing Scout.”

“Everyone knows Becca,” some girl said, not quietly, and nearly everyone laughed. Becky didn’t. She just went back to her script.

That maybe should’ve been a clue. But let’s see: Male? Check. Teenager? Check. In love? Check. Yep, those clues were destined to rocket straight over my head.

It was the first time I discovered she called herself Becky rather than Rebecca. I didn’t understand why someone would then call her Becca, but didn’t quite want to ask in public.
So that’s what she goes by
, I thought. A new facet to ponder.
Becky. Becky
. It felt like a spotlight had been shined on her, revealing something new and wonderful.