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Dreams by Starlight By Staci Stallings The next afternoon after their hamburgers were gone, he had little trouble talking her into driving out to the country. They dropped Daria off and made sure Brenda was home before they jumped in the car and left the city behind in the rearview mirror. "So, how's school going?" Jaylon asked when the houses gave way to nature. "Too much to do. Not enough time to do it." "Yeah, I've been noticing how much you've been studying lately." "Oh, you've noticed that too huh?" Her gaze dropped to her fingers. "Studying's never really been a problem before..." The sentence trailed off, and he looked over at her. "Before you had a life." "Something like that." She looked out her window as barren trees flashed by. "At least with the books I've got a fighting chance." "A fighting chance of what?" "Of not messing something up." A sigh escaped before she could pull it back. "It just seems like everyone wants something from me, and I can't do enough to please anybody." "Like me?" he asked, knowing his demands for her time hadn't exactly been subtle. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with you," she said as the words ripped through her. "But all the while I'm with you, I keep thinking about all the other stuff I need to be doing." She stopped and deflated. "That sounds awful." "No, it doesn't." "Yes, it does. If I was really serious about us, I would just forget about everything else." "Hey, half of us is you," he said solidly, "and I don't want you to lose yourself just to be with me." "But everything else always seems so important. It's easy to keep pushing you aside. But then I think..." "What about next year." "Yeah," she said, deflating. "What if I'm wasting my time with everything else instead of being with you." The car crunched over the yellow grass. When he killed the engine, all sounds ceased, but he never moved. "For a long time after she died I was angry at my mom," he finally said. "Sure I had memories of her, but I couldn't help but think she should've spent more time with me. She shouldn't have been running off on her errands all the time. And Dad made enough so she could've stayed home. "It was a long time before I finally understood that I was a part of her life-not her whole life-a part. At first, that made me angry. I should've been everything to her. Then when I was about ten, I flat out told Grandma Lani that I hated my mother for leaving me like that. "Grandma told me something that I don't think I ever understood until right now. She said, 'J., your mom loved you with all her heart, and she only wanted what was best for you. She would never have dreamed of keeping you right by her side forever because she knew you were meant to live.'" Slowly he turned to Camille. "Just like you're meant to live. Yes, I want you by my side every second, but that's not what you're here for. You're here to live your life and to follow your dreams and to see where that takes you. I love you too much to deny you that." Acceptance? Love? Life? Suddenly the car seemed suffocating and small. Quickly she reached for the door handle frantic for any escape route. In the cold air, she walked away from the car to the tree, pushing his words away from her with every step. "What's wrong?" he asked when he caught up with her six feet from the drop-off. "Nothing. I just needed a little air." And to talk about something else, she added silently. "So, has your dad come around about the whole NYU thing?" She felt his concern for her melt away. "No, he's pretty set that he doesn't want me to go, doesn't think it's a good idea, thinks I'm throwing my life away." Jaylon shrugged. "You get the idea." "What if you get accepted? What then?" "Then he'll yell, and I'll yell, and Marianne will say she has a headache and doesn't want to hear anymore. And then I'll leave, and probably never speak to them again. Unless..." "Unless what?" Camille asked, hearing the break in his armor. He didn't say anything for a long moment, and then he looked out to the other side. "Unless I give in and do it his way like I've always done." Camille's eyes narrowed. "When did you give in?" "A lot of times-especially when I was younger. I've gotten more stubborn with age." She smiled. "That I know." In the midst of his anger, he too smiled for one moment. Then he shook his head. "I just keep thinking about California. I missed my chance once-I don't want to miss it again." "California? What was in California?" "UCLA." Camille shook her head in confusion. "Okay, I know you're smart and everything, but I really don't think UCLA would've accepted you until now." "That's just it. They had accepted me-not for real school but for their summer drama program. I mean it was right there. I had the acceptance letter in my hand and everything. Three weeks in California with the best teachers UCLA had to offer. And then, I could've just written my ticket. Any school. Anywhere. I would've been set." "Then, why didn't you go?" Jaylon's head dropped as sadness washed through his face. "Dad said it was a big waste of time and that he didn't want to hear anymore about it." "So you went back to be in the play here," Camille said. He nodded and then stopped as his eyebrows knitted in the center of his forehead. "How did you know about that?" She considered begging off the question but decided that he deserved to know. "Nick told me about it." "Nick? Oh." Jaylon's gaze fell to the ground. "I guess I did a pretty good job of ruining things for him, too." "Yeah, he thinks so anyway." Her gaze went to his face and held. "Why didn't you tell him-explain. Maybe he would've understood." Jaylon shook his head. "I couldn't tell anybody. It hurt too much to even think about it, so I just put a big, happy face on and kept going." "And your dad?" "He thought I'd just forget about it after that, but I didn't. The next year I auditioned at the theatre again. With Dad away on business most of the time, I could pretty much sneak off when I needed to." "Sneak off?" He looked at her like he'd just been cornered. Then he sighed. "I guess it doesn't make any difference now, but Dad never knew about the plays. He would never have agreed to it, so I got really good at sneaking out. He never missed me when I was gone anyway." "He wasn't worried about you?" "As long as he thought I was in line with what he wanted, he never really bothered to check. It was easier not to tell him." "But surely at some point that didn't work. Surely at some point he caught you." "Oh, yeah. There were a lot of times he'd come home and want to have dinner together or I couldn't make it out before he roped me into something. But basically he lived his life, and I lived mine, and the less we actually got together, the better off we were." "So, what happened when he caught you?" Jaylon shrugged. "I'd just stay home for awhile. Make him happy with the whole being together thing, and then he'd get tired of it, and I was free to do whatever I wanted again." "But what about the people in the play?" "They always understood. I made it when I could. I always had my part down, so they never really missed me I guess. In fact, I don't think they ever really even noticed." Camille could think of one person who noticed-intensely. "And when you got to high school?" "I signed up for drama, so Dad really couldn't do much about that. I think he figured, 'Ah, let him go, he'll get tired of it.' That's why now is so bad. His plan didn't work, so he's mad at me for still liking drama and mad at himself for not finding a way to get it out of my head." "And that's all right with him? Having a son he barely knows about to go off to college?" "He doesn't say much anymore. If you ask me, he'll probably be happier when I'm gone and not around to make his life miserable anymore." "Well, I know that feeling." Camille's train of thought crashed into her mother. "Besides that I won't be around to take care of Dar, I'm not sure Mom will even notice I'm gone." "Who will take care of Dar?" Jaylon asked with instant concern. The question dug into her. "Probably Dar. I hate it, but she'll have to muddle through just like I did." Jaylon's head dropped to the side. "How many days did you spend at home alone?" "Too many to count," Camille said with a laugh. "It was okay though. I read a lot and studied a lot. It was nice to have the apartment to myself." "But didn't that get old? Being by yourself all the time?" "I got really good at being alone." His head bobbed up and down. "I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have a million people around me most of the time." "And sometimes I think I'll go crazy with one other person around." "Oh, yeah?" he asked teasingly. "You got anybody in mind when you say that?" "Umm, no, nobody in particular," she said, smiling even as she shook her head. "I don't believe you." "Why not?" "Because I've seen how you are." "Oh? How am I?" "All huddled in your little cocoon, afraid to come out. Afraid you might actually have some fun if you let yourself go." "Let myself go? I'm out here in the cold with you. What more do you want?" "This." He lunged at her and caught both of her sides with his fingers. Instantly she was running away from him out across the field. She turned and crouched low like a tiger that might pounce at any moment, and he stopped. "You just stay away from me." "Why? You scared of something?" "No." She pointed at him in warning. "I just know how you are." "Oh, yeah?" he asked, edging closer to her. "How am I?" "Now, listen. I did not come here to play touch football." She circled around him to the edge of the tree again. "Well, what did you come out here to play?" "That's not funny." "It wasn't meant to be." She leaned from one side of the tree to the other, trying to decide which way to run. "Behave yourself." "That's not possible." "I've noticed," she said and picked the side of the tree closest to the slope to make her get away. However, like lightning he grabbed her. "Hey, let me go." "Why? You afraid to have a little fun?" "I'm not afraid of anything," she said, pushing against him. "Oh, no? How about the tickle monster." "Ahh!" she yelled although no one was within a ten-mile earshot. "Stop it! Hey! Stop it!" His fingers managed to find every single vulnerable spot all up and down her ribcage as she collapsed into a helpless heap of giggles. "Quit it!" Then she felt her foot meet up with something hard, and in a breath they were both falling. "Ahhh!" The ground and his arm broke her fall as she landed only a half second before he fell on top of her. "That will teach you," she said, wishing she could sound angrier. Slowly she sat up and rubbed her head. "Oww." "You think oww. I think my wrist is broken." For one moment she looked with him in concern. "Really?" "No, but I made you look." Defiance flashed through her. "Oh, yeah? Well, we'll just see who's ticklish." She pounced on him with claws out, and in seconds had him squirming to get free. "Not fair! Hey, you! Quit it! Hey!" Rolling around in the grass, they tussled until they were both out of breath and laughing. Lying side by side, they gazed up at the powder blue sky, dotted in various patterns by white-blue clouds. Her hand fell to the side and landed on his ribs. "You shouldn't do that." "Me?" "Yes, you," she said and picked her hand up to drop it on him again. Gently he laid his hand on top of hers, and the warmth of it raced through her veins. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked. "What falling? Or getting tickled to death?" He rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow until he was leaning over her. "Having fun." "No," she said softly. "That wasn't so bad." Her eyes fell closed as his lips dropped to hers, and suddenly the cold had no chance to get in. Lost in his kiss, she let herself stop thinking, stop analyzing, stop everything, and just live for one moment in time. His lips left hers, but the warmth of them didn't. When she opened her eyes, he was looking right into her soul. "I love you, you know that," he said softly. Instantly she pushed up and away from him. "What'd I say?" he asked with concern when she managed to put several inches between them. She sat, pulling breaths in, and trying to get all the words to line up in her head. She felt his fingers in her hair, pulling the grass free, and her hand reached up self-consciously. She probably looked frightful by now. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you." "You didn't upset me. I just really need to be getting home. That's all. I've got to practice some more of that breathing stuff you taught me the other day." And breathing without him right next to her had to be a lot easier than this. Quickly she stood, but his hand caught hers before she took even a step. "Can I help again?" he asked, and when she looked at him, the vulnerability was shining in his eyes. "How is it you always have a way to help me?" "Because it wasn't so long ago that I was where you are, and it would've been nice to have someone to help me." He crawled to his knees. "What do you say? One more exercise." What she really should've said was, "No, I should go home," but what she said was, "Okay, what you got?"
"Ready?" he called over the gapping hole between them. "I'm ready," she said back. "Hey, Lauren, whatcha doing?" Camille cradled her make-believe book up next to her. "Studying." "Whatcha studying?" "Homework." "Homework, huh? At lunch?" "Is that a problem?" "A problem, no, but wouldn't it be easier to study tonight at home?" "Oh, I'll study then too, but I don't really have anything else to do right now. So..." "Oh," he said taken aback slightly. "Well, what are you reading?" "Macbeth." "Macbeth? Wow. That must be fate. That's what we're reading, too." Then he stopped. "But isn't that senior year material?" "Yeah, so?" "So, you're not a senior." "And your point is?" "Well, you're not a senior and yet you're reading senior material, so unless you've just been accelerated two grades, you can't be studying." Camille struck her best defensive pose. "I'm getting ahead." "Two years ahead?" "Yeah, two years ahead. Want to make something of it?" "Oh, uh, no. But if you're not studying something for tomorrow and I'm free right now, I was wondering if you'd want to go grab a burger." "A burger? With you?" "Do you see anyone else standing here?" "Unfortunately, no." "Then what do you say?" "About what?" Camille asked, bending her head as though she was reading again. "About burgers." "Oh, I can't." "Why not?" "Because, I'm studying." A low laugh escaped from Jaylon as he felt the lights blink out on the stage around him. "You know," he called across the chasm. "This is a little too realistic!" "Hey, this was your idea," she called back with a laugh. "Then I must be insane," he said as the wind whisked his words away. "Want to try another one?" "Go for it."
However, even with the book on her lap, it was difficult to keep her mind on her homework and off the fireworks on stage. Ariana and Jaylon were going at it. She accusing him of going after Lauren solely in response to being dumped; he accusing her of chasing after the most popular guy on campus heedless of the fact that she had promised to be his girlfriend only a week before. When Nick made his grand entrance onto the stage, Camille couldn't help but laugh. Although inside, Camille knew that making doe-eyes at Nick was probably killing her, on the outside Ariana was putting on a very good show. "Oh, Ethan, I was wondering where you went. I missed you so much." "Yeah, holding her breath thinking you might not come back was about to kill her," Jaylon said in a nice stage whisper. "I don't believe we've met," Nick said, extending the hand that wasn't around Ariana. "Yeah, too bad I got cornered this time," Jaylon said. Then he extended his hand with an annoyed smile. "I'm sure Dominique has told you all about me." Ariana's eyes shot knives at him as Jaylon smiled at her. "Why would she do that?" Nick asked, looking down at her. "Oh, you know," Ariana said quickly. "Old friends, old stories." "Old loves," Jaylon said, and Nick's face contorted further. "Well, I'd better be going. Lauren and I are supposed to study later." "Study?" Ariana asked with raised eyebrows. "Yeah," Jaylon said with a wink. "You remember studying." Ariana's face dropped the mask of complete bliss as Jaylon turned to leave. "See ya later." Then he turned back to them. "Oh, and good luck, Ethan." Turning back to the audience as he left them behind, he added, "You're going to need it." Although she had read the lines countless times, Camille laughed. She loved this script. The bell over her head rang, and she jumped. Her gaze fell to her book as she closed it. She hadn't gotten much done, but maybe she would have better luck tomorrow. "You headed home?" Jaylon asked, offering her a hand up. "Yeah." She reached down to get her things. "You need a ride?" His hand came around her back protectively as he guided her down the steps. "Is that an offer?" she asked, swinging her braid over her shoulder. "It's an offer if you say yes, a beg if you say no." "Then yes. I hate to see men beg." Neither of them ever saw the glowering thespian they left behind.
The only good thing that she could see was that Princeton would not get to see these grades before they sent out the acceptance letters-if hers was an acceptance letter. She hunkered down over her Chemistry book, looking forward to four nearly full hours of stuffing her head with formulas. "Hey, Beautiful," Jaylon said, right in her ear before she even realized he was there. Her pencil point skipped across the page. "You just love doing that don't you?" she asked in mock annoyance. "Not half as much as you love me doing it." He leaned on the wall next to her. "So, what are we working on today? Atomic molecular astrophysics? Or no, no wait, modular thermalitical anomalectomy." She laughed out loud. "You are crazy, you know that?" "About you," he said so that only she heard, and he ducked his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. "Hey!" "That's the bell, people." Mrs. Allen strode onto the stage. "We'll start with the Dominique-Lauren fight so we'll need the card table and chairs out here." "Duty calls," Camille said, closing her book and standing. "Break a leg." With a mock angry face, she gazed down on him. "You behave yourself." He put his head to the side and looked up at her with puppy dog eyes. "Do I have to?" She shook her head as she straightened her shirt, preparing for her turn in the spotlight. Just then Ariana sauntered by, and although she had the entire stage to walk on, she crashed right into Camille, knocking her back several steps. "Hey, watch it," Camille said angrily. "Why don't you watch it?" Ariana shot back. With not-too-well disguised disgust, Camille finished the straighten job on her shirt and then pointed at Jaylon as though in added warning. Teasingly he winked at her, and she couldn't stop the smile. When she walked across the stage and sat down in the chair that for now would have to resemble a dining chair, she could feel Ariana's gaze, hot with anger descend on her. "Okay, ladies," Mrs. Allen said as she stepped off the stage and took her seat in the audience. "Whenever you're ready." "What're you doing?" Ariana asked, prancing into the room that comprised half of the stage. "Studying," Camille said, and although her head was down, her voice had no problem carrying. "You should try it sometime." Ariana crossed her arms in front of her. "You act like you think you're better than me." "I'm not acting like anything," Camille said, and the irritation in her voice was no act. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I'm not even noticing you?" "Well, you're certainly noticing Hawk." Camille looked up at Ariana. "And that's a problem?" Pure hatred rained down from Ariana's eyes. "Let me let you in on a little secret. The only reason Hawk even knows you're alive is because he wants to get back at me." "You know, this may come as a shock to you, Dominique, but the world doesn't revolve around you." "Ethan's does." "Ethan's does. Yeah, right. Ethan's universe revolves around Ethan. I'm surprised he even notices anyone else is on the planet." "Oh, wonderful. Now I'm getting advice from a two-year-old." "Well," Camille said, standing and pulling her invisible books up with her. "This two-year-old has got a date for the Harvest Ball, which is a lot more than I can say for somebody else in the room." With one step Camille suddenly stood toe-to-toe with Ariana. "If you've got something to say, say it," Ariana said, looking down at her furiously. "If Ethan is dumb enough to go out with you, he deserves what he gets." And with that Camille stomped off, stage left. It wasn't until she was off the stage that she realized how quiet the auditorium was. Not a sound, not a movement anywhere. It suddenly occurred to her that even Mrs. Allen hadn't said a word the entire scene. That was definitely a first. Carefully Camille peaked out passed the curtain just as Mrs. Allen made it to the stage. "Very, very nice! Both of you," she said enthusiastically. "That was so realistic." A little too realistic for Camille's taste, but she was happy just the same. "Let's move on to the next scene," Mrs. Allen said. "I need Nick and his cohorts on stage." With a sigh of relief, Camille chose to walk around the back of the stage rather than across it to get to Jaylon. The less contact she had with the Ice Queen the better. At stage right, just at the top of the steps, she and Jaylon spent the rest of the afternoon thoroughly enjoying warning the other one not to get too far out of line. In Camille's eyes it was the best practice ever.
"So, you want some company later?" Camille asked Jaylon as they sat in their spot on the edge of the stage, waiting for the bell to ring. "Oh, I can't today," he said. "What, you get the starring role on Broadway or something?" He shook his head. "No, yesterday was Grandma Lani's birthday. I really wanted to go over and see her." "Oh," she said, silenced for only a second. Then she smiled. "Well, do you want some company?" Somehow this all felt as foreign as standing on the stage had that very first time. "Well, hello, Mr. Gosa. How are you today?" Jaylon asked a hunched over old man who with the help of his walker was inching his way down the hall. "Hrumph," the old man said. "Yes, Sir. It is a nice day outside although they say it's supposed to get cold this weekend." "Hrumph." "Well, you have a nice day, too." As Camille watched in fascination, Jaylon laid a soft palm on the old man's shoulder. "I'd better go see Grandma Lani. She probably thinks I've forgotten about her." "Hrumph." "I'll see you later. You take care. You hear me?" "Hrumph." Cowering behind Jaylon and not letting his hand go for even an instant, Camille followed him on, down the corridor, deeper and deeper into the bright lights. When they turned the corner, the nurse looked up and immediately smiled. "She's in her room. Would you like me to help you?" the nurse asked without so much as a hello. Jaylon nodded. "How's she doing?" "She's been pretty listless lately. I think she missed her grandson." They walked over to a door couched in the middle of several others. "Elana," the nurse said with a small knock. "You've got company." "Hey, Beautiful," Jaylon said, pulling Camille into the room. He let go of her hand long enough to lean down over the bed to give the white-haired, wrinkled old lady a kiss. "Happy Birthday." The old woman's gaze surveyed him vacuously. He stepped back to bring Camille to his side. "I brought somebody who wanted to see you." Camille smiled although she couldn't at all be sure that's how it looked on the outside. "Hi." Not once did the old woman's gaze register anything. "I thought we might go over and see the birds today," Jaylon said as the nurse stepped to his side and they began the arduous task of transferring the woman from the bed to the wheelchair. "My special birthday treat." Camille wished she didn't feel so utterly helpless, but she had no idea of where to even begin to help. Gently Jaylon sat the old woman into the wheelchair and made sure she was strapped in before he nodded in satisfaction. "I promise I won't do any wheelies," he said, and for all the evidence that this should be a frightening, sad situation, he sounded absolutely ecstatic to be here. As they walked down the hall, Camille forked her finger through his belt loop and listened as he kept up a non-stop conversation with the air in front of him. "I bet these birds have been wondering where you got off to," he said. "They always sound so happy to see you. But I guess I can't really blame them. I'm always happy to see you, too." They crossed over into a slightly darker room, and immediately Camille could hear the birds. When they rounded the next corner, it was easy to see why. What looked like a gazillion birds sat perched in a tree that stretched up into a glassed-in pentagon that soared far above them. Only the top of the cage was glass, however, the bottom was merely tightly knit wire stretched between two poles. "Listen to them sing." Jaylon parked the chair a few feet from the cage. "Reminds me of the birds when we used to lay under the tree." In an odd way Camille knew exactly what he was talking about. These birds did sound remarkably like the ones next to the slope. Jaylon pulled two chairs over from the wall and indicated that Camille was to sit in one. She did so, gingerly, not wanting to upset the lady who continued to stare at her with vacant eyes. "Grandma, this is Camille." Jaylon reached over and took Camille's hand. "She's the one I've been telling you about." Nothing from the eyes that continued to stare. "I hope you don't mind, but we've been using your place as kind of our own practice stage. Camille's gotten the lead in the school play." The eyes continued to stare. "Yeah," Camille said, struggling to find her voice. "And Jaylon got Hawk. He's really good in that part. You should see him." Jaylon's hand squeezed hers, swelling the courage in her chest. "He's also applied to NYU," Camille said with a smile. "He tried out over Christmas, so I'm sure it's just a matter of time before he gets accepted." Gratefully Jaylon smiled at her. "Camille's going to Princeton. She's going to study Aerospace Engineering." He looked back to the old woman. "Imagine that, me with a brainy woman. Who would've ever guessed? Huh?" He sat for one moment and then seemed to realize something. "Oh, I brought you something you're going to love." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small book. "Dickinson. I bought it just for you." Then with only one more glance at Camille, he opened the volume and began reading. "If you were coming in the fall, I'd brush the summer by..."
Never in all the world would any of their friends at school have guessed that the Jaylon Quinn they knew would sneak off to an old folks' home to read poetry to an old woman who would never so much as know who he was anymore. But from the Jaylon she was beginning to know, it fit perfectly. She waited until they were back in the car and headed across town to her place before she broached the question that had been on her mind for months. "You never told me. How did your mom die?" Jaylon looked over at her sadly and then returned his gaze to the road. "Brain cancer." Camille wanted to say something, but besides, "Sorry," she could find nothing. "They found out in April, and three days after my birthday in August, she died. It was a really aggressive form, right on the brain stem. They did radiation and chemo, but I think all that accomplished was making her sick faster." "How old were you?" "Five. I turned six right before she died. I still remember that party. She was so weak, she couldn't even sit up, but she wouldn't let them take her to the hospital. So she laid on her bed and sang happy birthday to me. That's one of the last things I remember about her." His tone was the only thing that belayed the pain underneath the words. Softly Camille's gaze snagged on his silhouette. "Dad's solution was just to stay at work. The more he worked, the less he thought about her...or me. I think it was easier for him not to think." "But if he was working, who took care of...? Grandma Lani," she said as that piece clicked into place. He nodded as his hands guided the car to her curb and went about the normal tasks of parking. "Marianne always says how nice she thinks it is that I still visit her, but I just think it's pay backs." The noise around her ceased as Camille's hand went to his shoulder. "She's lucky to have you." "No, I was lucky to have her," he said as a small tear slid down the side of his cheek. "It's okay, you know," Camille said softly. "A few tears never hurt anybody." When he looked at her, the anguish in his face said all that a million tears never could. "I miss them." "I know." And then she folded him into her shoulder and held him as twelve years of unshed tears finally came to the surface. "I know."
"That wasn't the right line?" Camille asked, stepping back and scratching her ear. "It was the right line, but it sounded like you were reading it right out of the script." Although she wasn't quite sure that was a bad thing, Camille nodded. "Try it again. Okay?" "The Harvest Ball, wow," Stephanie said as they sat in Lauren's stage bedroom. "You must be in heaven." "I just wish I could figure out why he asked me," Camille said as she sat, facing the audience that was supposed to be her mirror. "Maybe he asked you because he likes you." "Oh, yeah. And it had nothing to do with the fact that Dominique is my sister." "Is it so hard to believe that he might actually like you?" "Look at me. Who in their right mind would put the two of us together? Certainly not me." "Camille," Mrs. Allen called. "You're doing it again. Don't just say the line. You have to feel the line, be the line. Okay? Try it again." "Feel the line, be the line," Camille said, pulling herself up straighter. "Feel the line..." "The Harvest Ball, wow."
"I have to say, I can tell how hard you're working. I'm really impressed with the improvement in your projection." "Thank you," Camille said, not at all sure the comment was a compliment. "There's just one little thing. Umm, how do I put this? Sometimes you nail the lines so well, you blow me away, but sometimes you act like you're just a wooden puppet saying lines somebody else wrote. You're not feeling the part. It's all in your head. But acting doesn't come from your head, it comes from your heart." I thought it came from your diaphragm, Camille thought petulantly. "Work on it, okay?" Mrs. Allen said with a nod. "I trust you. You can get it. If you can make yourself believe you can get it, you'll be fine." "I'll work on it," Camille said softly, and there was a beat of silence between them. Then Camille glanced over her shoulder. "Umm, is that all?" Mrs. Allen waved her off, and Camille hurried to the edge of the stage to gather her books. "What'd she want?" Jaylon asked, meeting her on the steps with concern. "Oh, you know, I'm out of my league, and I should never gone out for drama in the first place." Camille swung her braid over her shoulder and stomped off the stage. "She said that?" he hissed. "No, but that's what she meant." Depression hit Camille as she pushed out into the hallway. If she won the Nobel Prize, somebody would be there with the proof that she really hadn't deserved it. That was her life. Trying and trying, but never quite grasping that fabled golden ring. "Is it the whole just saying the lines thing?" Jaylon asked, keeping up with her every step down the hallway. Camille shrugged. "That's the point. Isn't it?" "Well, kind of, but not really." "Well, then enlighten me, Oh, Master of the Universe." She wrenched her locker door open. He regarded her for a moment and then plunged in. "You're not being Lauren. You're Camille acting like you're being Lauren." "Yeah, so?" "You can't do that. You have to be Lauren." Confusion and fury crossed through her eyes. He thought for another moment. "It's like learning Spanish. When you first start trying to learn it, you have to translate everything. Someone says something in Spanish, and you hear it in Spanish, but then in your head you have to translate what they said into English. Then you have to come up with something to say back, but before you can say it back, you have to translate it into Spanish." Her look of annoyance deepened. For all she knew, he might be speaking Spanish right now for as much sense as all this was making to her. "But then," he said as his face brightened, "somewhere in the middle of second year or so, someone says something in Spanish, and you reply in Spanish-no translating." He looked at her with understanding. "Right now, you're translating Lauren. Don't be you playing her-be her."
In utter frustration, Camille stood in front of her mirror. Be her. Be her. Be Lauren. "I don't even know who Lauren is. Who is she?" Camille gazed into the mirror. "Who are you, Lauren?" Then, as Camille stood there, looking into her own reflection, the eyes gazing back at her changed, and the words that began flowing from the middle of her seemed those of someone else entirely, and yet it was she who was speaking them. "Nobody can ever love me for me," Lauren said softly. "I don't deserve something like that to happen, so the only explanation is that they have some ulterior motive-that liking me can get them something. Hawk is no different. He doesn't really love me. He can't love me because I don't love me. "I look at me in the mirror, and I don't even know myself. I don't want to know myself. I want to bury my head in some book and stay there forever because books are safe. Hawk is not. Loving Hawk is not. Just like loving myself is not. "It's safer just to put a mask on and push the world away from me. It's safer than trying to believe that I could have something to contribute. Something good. Something no one else could ever give the world. That's why I hide. That's why." The next moment and the next passed as Camille looked into Lauren's eyes, and for all the rationalizations of her mind, all Camille wanted to do was put her arms around the girl, and tell her that no matter how much sense it didn't make, Hawk really did love her. "You are special," Camille said to her reflection, "and you are beautiful. Don't just listen to that, believe it because it's true. You are worthy of love. Don't cheat yourself out of that because it's safe. It's not safe. It's lonely and it's painful, and you deserve better." The veil lifted for a split second and Camille was gazing into her own eyes again. An echo in her heart was the only thing that repeated: "You deserve better."
One thing, however, was more than clear, Ariana would have no trouble completely losing her composure. "Ethan Drake is a jerk!" Ariana spat. "What happened?" Tessa asked fearfully. "Mindy Tarlington. Uck!" Ariana looked angrily at Tessa. "He was kissing Mindy Tarlington!" "Oh, boy," Tessa said just as Nick rushed onto the stage. "Dominique, hey. What'd you run off for?" "I can't believe you can stand there and ask me that question." "What you saw...that wasn't me. I mean, yeah, that was me, but it wasn't what it looked like." "Well, it looked like you were performing a tonsillectomy without the anesthetic!" "But I didn't do anything. She slipped, and I was just helping her up." "How? With mouth-to-mouth." Ariana looked at him with open contempt. "That's it. I've had enough." "Enough?" "Yes, enough. Enough of this! Enough of you! You're an egotistical, selfish, conceited, arrogant..." "Hey," Nick said with a small, uncaring laugh. "Right back at you, Babe." "That's it. Get out of my sight." He stood for one more moment. "Gladly." Then he turned and caught Jill under his arm before he stamped off stage with Jill gazing at him in awestruck memorization. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Ariana called as she planted her arms on her chest. Tessa waited a full beat. "Don't worry about him, Dominique. You deserve better." But Ariana was already glaring at the happy couple, locked in each other's arms across the dance floor. "If you'll excuse me, I've got someone to speak with." "Dominique," Tessa said, but it was obviously too late as Ariana was already halfway across the dance floor. "So, Hawk," Ariana said, standing next to the swaying couple. "I can't believe you actually went through with this whole date thing." Jaylon glanced up with a glare. "Leave us alone, Dominique." He lowered his head back to Camille's shoulder and commenced dancing. Ariana shook her head slowly. "Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. Little baby sister. I never thought you could be so gullible." Camille turned her head into his chest, trying to get away from Ariana's tirade. "Let me guess," Ariana said as though she was Camille's best friend rather than her archenemy. "I bet he told you this was forever. I bet he told you it was fate. He used the same lines on me, you know." "Dominique," Hawk said in warning. "What? Are you afraid of what will happen if she knows the truth? If she knows that all you wanted was to make me mad." "Dominique." "I told you," Ariana said to Camille with a derisive snort. "I told you it was all a big game to him. He was never interested in you-he just used you to get back at me." "I said, 'Leave us alone,'" Hawk said as his voice notched up a level. "If you don't believe me, look at him," Ariana said. "Hawk never could lie with his eyes. You could always read him like an open book. Go on. Look at him, and ask him if I'm lying." Heat poured through her as Camille's entire body seemed to fill with lead. She pulled away from Jaylon and looked at him, fighting the actual fear that she could feel rising in her. "Is that true?" His gaze was pleading for forgiveness even as he trained it on her. They stood, inches apart, locked in the direst of conversations. "It is true," she said as her eyebrows narrowed. The next words were in her head, but it was impossible to get them out of her mouth. So, without the benefit of her parting lines, she broke away from him and ran off the stage. "No, wait," he called, the second she left his grasp. "Too bad," Ariana said when Camille was safely off stage. Hawk turned to her with hate in his eyes. "How could I ever think I loved you?" Ariana never flinched. "You're asking me?" His jaw set as he glowered at her. Then he shook his head and turned. "Lauren, wait!" Mrs. Allen stood from her seat in the audience. "Excellent. Very, very nice. Except, umm, Camille, Sweetheart, where were your last lines, Darlin'?" Camille stepped out from backstage into the glaring lights. "I just thought it would be more effective if I just ran off." "Yes, well, Dear. Those lines are the key to the next scene. They need to be there. In the future please remember to speak them before you run off. Other than that, very nice." She looked at her watch. "Well, gang, be ready, tomorrow we'll do our first dress rehearsal. Then we've got one more on Wednesday. Thursday it's for real." Panic surged through Camille. Three days. Somehow it had seemed further away than that. "You up for a little country drive?" Jaylon asked, sliding up next to her as the group broke for the evening. Camille looked at him, and although she knew she should tell him no, not one part of her wanted to. Next week she would catch up. Next week she would worry about everything else. "Let's go." "I just love Spring," Jaylon said, breathing in as he held her. "I think they put the Spring Production in March just so you could feel like this." "What? Panic?" she asked only slightly teasing. "Panic?" He arched his head to look at her. "You've got Lauren down. Nobody could do it better." "I don't know. That last scene...I'm not so sure about it." "Why not?" "Mrs. Allen wants this big production of how hurt Lauren is. I just don't think I can pull that off." "Yeah, but you've nailed everything else, why would that be a problem?" Camille sighed. "It's the whole, 'You lied to me' part. I mean, he lied to her, so what? It happens all the time. Get over it already." With concern etching deeper onto his face, Jaylon arched his neck to look at her. "You know I had that problem once. I couldn't let myself get angry. The director kept trying to explain it to me and explain it to me. But I just couldn't do it. So he sent me outside with this stick and I was supposed to hit it against the side of the building and say, 'I'm angry. I'm angry.'" He smiled at the skeptical look on her face. "I know it sounds stupid, but it worked." She settled back against his chest as the birds chirped above them. |