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Dreams by Starlight By Staci Stallings The last thing she needed was a date at this point in her life. What she needed was to focus on her schoolwork and heaven forbid getting through drama in one piece. "Daria!" Camille called when she walked through the door and noticed the pillows stacked next to the television that was blabbering something about detergent. "Hey!" Daria emerged from her room, her steps slowing the closer she got to Camille. "What are you doing home so soon?" Camille asked, immediately shifting into mother mode. "I was sick," Daria said, her voice stretching for pathetic. "Again?" Camille strode over and placed a hand on the child's forehead. "You don't feel hot." "My head hurt." "Did you take some aspirin?" "I can't take aspirin. They're way up in the cupboard." Camille leveled a skeptical gaze at her sister. "Did the nurse call Mom?" "Uh-huh." "And Mom came and got you?" "And brought me home." "Uh-huh. And this sickness, how did it start?" "Right before recess. My tummy started hurting." "I thought you said you had a headache." "Yeah, and then my head started hurting, so I went to the nurse." Camille shook her head. It was the fourth time in two weeks she had come home to this story, and although she wasn't actually the mother, she realized that if she didn't do something about it, no one would. "Go get cleaned up, and you can help me make supper," Camille said, fighting not to let the exasperation sound in her voice. She picked up the pillows and threw them back on the couch as she watched her little sister's shoulders slink down the hallway. There was something wrong all right, but it wasn't a headache.
"Oh, what about her?" Brenda asked. "Well, she's been having trouble in school." "Trouble?" Brenda asked with instant concern. "What kind of trouble?" "I don't think she fits in too well." Camille chose her words carefully. The last thing Daria needed was to referee a fight. "She's been getting sick a lot lately. She's missed more than a week this month." "She's still recovering from that flu she had." "Yeah," Camille said with a laugh. "That was some flu." She stood and slowly put the dishes in the dishwasher as she gathered her courage. "I was thinking I might take her down to the Community Center on Saturday. They've got lots of stuff for kids her age. It might be good for her to make some new friends-get her out of the apartment for awhile." Brenda shrugged. "All right, but this is your responsibility. I'm not taking her down there. I don't have time to be chauffeuring you kids around." "I'll take care of it, Mom. Don't worry about it."
"Why can't I just watch cartoons?" Daria asked in sheer panic. "Why do I have to come here?" "Because there are a lot of neat things you can learn here that you can't learn watching cartoons." "I don't want to learn anything new. I want to watch cartoons." Camille heaved a sigh of resignation. "I'll tell you what. You try it for a couple of weeks, and if you still don't want to come, you don't have to." "I don't want to come." "I said in a couple of weeks," Camille said. The little girl fell into a pouting silence at her side as Camille pulled her to the front counter. "Good morning." "Hello," a nicely dressed woman behind the counter said with a kind smile. "May I help you?" "Yes. At least I hope so. My name is Camille, and this is my little sister, Daria." "Nice to meet you. I'm Mrs. Dixon." Camille exchanged handshakes with the lady and then pressed on. "Daria would like to take one of your classes." "Oh." Mrs. Dixon laid down her clipboard and smiled down at Daria. "Which one are you interested in?" "Well, we're not really sure. What do you have opened?" "Let's see," Mrs. Dixon said, pulling another notebook out of the stack on the counter. "We've got a couple of spots in the soccer class." "How about that, Dar? Soccer?" The look on Daria's face told Camille that suggestion was out. "No?" the lady asked. "Well, we have an opening in the pottery class, but I'm afraid the teacher isn't coming in today. We also have one spot left in the Theatre Arts class." "Theatre Arts?" Camille asked as her attention piqued. "What do they do in there?" "Mostly they just do little exercises to get them over shyness and get them more comfortable with being on stage." Somehow she felt exactly like Mr. Marsh must have when she bent down and looked into her little sister's eyes. "That sounds like fun. Don't you think? You'll get to do like I'm doing at school." The night Camille had come home and announced that she was taking drama, Daria had asked her every question in the book and then some. However, that enthusiasm had now turned to utter fear. "What do you think, Dar? Doesn't that sound like fun?" The little head moved first to one side and then to the other as the tiny curls fell into the little girl's face. "I want to go home." Camille stood and looked at Mrs. Dixon. "We'll take Theatre Arts." After the appropriate papers were filled out, Camille followed Mrs. Dixon down the little hallway with Daria's hand clutching her own until her fingers felt like they might turn purple. She, of all people, understood the fear behind Daria's eyes, but she also knew that hiding in a tiny apartment watching cartoons was not the way to overcome that fear. Just because she had turned into an Eliza didn't mean that Daria had to. "They're right in here," Mrs. Dixon said. "We're really lucky that Mr. Quinn offered to get this class started. It's so hard to find good volunteers these days." Camille nodded politely as they entered the small auditorium, which surrounded a stage filled with giggling, squirming children. "Okay," the young man with suspenders standing with his back to the audience at center stage said. "It's time to get started." "Mr. Quinn," Mrs. Dixon said at Camille's side as they approached the stage. By the time she made the connection, it was too late to run. In one breath Camille found herself at the base of a stage, staring up into the intensity of his blue eyes, and wondering how in the world she had gotten there. "Oh, hi," Jaylon said, and his voice registered almost as much surprise as her heart felt. "Hi," she said as the rest of the room dropped away. "This is Daria," Mrs. Dixon said, indicating the child. "She's going to be joining your class." "Oh," Jaylon said as his gaze fell from Camille's face to the little girl cowering behind her. "That's great." Camille's entire body had gone numb the second he had turned around, and although she knew she should be saying something, nothing would come out. "Why don't you come on up?" Jaylon asked, offering his hand to Daria. The fingernails digging into her knees brought Camille back from la-la land. "It's okay, Dar." She turned and knelt next to her sister. "You'll be fine." "No," Daria said in a voice strangled by fear. "I don't want to!" "Hey, listen," Camille said, hugging her little sister. "It's okay. I can stay for awhile if you want me to." The tears in her sister's eyes ripped her heart out. It was like looking into the fear that lurked in her own soul. "It's all right. I'll stay." Fighting not to look across the stage at him, Camille walked up the steps with Daria, found a spot in the group, and sat down. Immediately Daria sat on her lap and huddled into her as far as the limits of her body would allow. "We're so glad we've got some more friends to join us today," Jaylon said, sitting down on a chair that was far too small for him. But Camille noticed how he didn't look at all uncomfortable or out of place on it. In fact, he looked like this was his favorite chair in the whole world. "But we need our new friends to introduce themselves so we can get to know them." Immediately every set of eyes on the stage shifted to them, and Camille felt Daria's panic. "We just need to know you're name and one thing that you like to do," Jaylon said to Daria, effortlessly creating a safe place for her to venture into. The little girl shifted slightly on Camille's lap as she looked at her new teacher. "My name is Daria Marek," the little girl said softly, "and I like to watch cartoons." "Cartoons?" Jaylon asked as though she was the first kid he'd ever met who liked cartoons. "What kind of cartoons do you like?" "Mickey Mouse," Daria said with a small giggle. "Oh, yeah, Mickey. He's great," Jaylon said, nodding seriously. "My favorite is Daffy Duck. 'Wwhath's that you thay?'" The children around him laughed, and Camille laughed with them as she felt Daria relax. "Okay," Jaylon said as he looked at Camille, "and now our other new friend." The blood drained from Camille's face as the gazes came back on her. "Me? Oh, well, umm, my name is Camille Wright, and I like math." "Eeww!" the children said, and Jaylon joined in good-naturedly. "Math? Eeww!" Camille laughed in spite of her lightheadedness. "Cool," Jaylon said with a smile as he stood. "Now, last week we talked about space substances. Remember how we played with my favorite toy?" He held up a perfectly formed, perfectly invisible ball. "Remember how we played with my favorite toy? Katelyn?" "We threw it to each other and didn't let it drop." "Good girl," Jaylon said. "Well, today, I brought a whole bunch of my favorite toys. You want to see what they are?" "Yeah!" the children chorused. "Okay, let's see what I've got." Jaylon laid the ball on the floor and walked over to the side of the stage that was utterly empty. He stopped two feet from the curtain and bent over what Camille would've sworn was a cardboard box had her eyes not told her that there was absolutely nothing there. "Let's see." Slowly he reached in and pulled up a long string. "Does anyone know what this is?" "A jump rope," one of the children said. "That's right, Katelyn. Here, why don't you come hold this jump rope?" One-by-one he pulled things out of his magical box until three children held the magical items-a jump rope, a Frisbee, and a set of marbles. "Now we need a Magic Chooser." He looked around at the remaining children. "Daria, why don't you come choose for us?" Camille felt her sister shrink back as Jaylon stood a moment and then approached slowly holding his hand out to her. "It's okay. I'll help you." He stopped a foot from them and gazed down at Daria as though she had just appeared there by real magic. "Come on. It'll be fun." Little by little Daria's hand went up, and when their hands were together, she let go of Camille, he led her across the stage. Camille couldn't tell if her heart was racing for Daria or from being able to look into his eyes again. "Okay, this is really simple," Jaylon said, bending down to Daria's height and putting his hands on her shoulders, "but it's really important." Daria nodded as if the world might end if she didn't get it just right. "Now, what I need you to do is to make our teams for us. First, you go choose somebody out there." He pointed to the children still seated on the stage. "And you bring them over here, and choose which team they are supposed to be on." Daria nodded again solemnly and turned to get her first match. "Oh, no wait!" Jaylon said, leaping to his feet. "You need your magic matchmaking wand." He went over to his infamous magic box and started digging through it. "No, not my rock." With effort he heaved the invisible boulder over his shoulder, and several students ducked out of the way to avoid being crushed. "No, not the map to my house." Giggles rang out around her as Camille, too, sat mesmerized by his performance. "Ah, here it is." He pulled a long wand out of the box and ceremoniously handed it to Daria. "Now, Magic Chooser. You may begin." In fascination, Camille looked at the little girl who only moments before had cringed at the thought of being left alone with these people, and she smiled. Daria's face glowed with the unquestioned belief that she was important. She was the Magic Chooser. Thoughtfully she made her way around the room, matching children to their rightful team, and no one who just happened into the room would've been able to guess that this was anything other than a very solemn ceremony of the highest importance. When the last child had been matched, Daria looked back at Camille. "Oh, no, I'm not playing," Camille said quickly. "On this stage everybody plays," Jaylon said, looking at her with a seriousness that melted her protest. Camille's gaze snapped from Daria to his, and it was difficult to remember that he wasn't some master wizard. Staring into his eyes, she could see magic all the way through him. "Okay," she said softly. Daria paired her up with the jump rope team and then put the magic wand back into Jaylon's box before joining Camille, but the magic aura still seemed to surround the little girl. "Great," Jaylon said with a smile. "Now, remember, your space object is not imaginary. It is real. It has a shape and a substance all it's own. You must respect that." All the children nodded right along with Camille. "You may begin." Camille looked at the children for direction as to what to do next. "I'll take this side," Katelyn said immediately taking charge of her group. "Here, Jomei, you take this side." The small Japanese child took the other side of the rope, and after only a moment's worth of confusion, the two were swinging the rope for someone to jump in. "Daria, you go first," Katelyn called, and Daria hesitated for only one second before running into the middle of the rope. And for all the information of her eyes, Camille would've sworn there was actually a rope there to be jumped.
She wanted to say something to him. Thank you or you're amazing or something. Suddenly his little chat session disintegrated, and he walked up the three stage steps, grabbed his coat, and turned, looking every bit the polished actor she now knew he was. If Julliard didn't accept him, they were crazy. "Hey, there," he said when he descended the steps and caught sight of them still standing off to the side. In one motion he threw the coat over his shoulder. "Hi," Camille said suddenly wishing they had just ducked out when they had the chance. "I just wanted to say thanks." His face broke into a smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. "So, you had fun?" Then he remembered the real reason she was there. "Daria?" "It was so cool!" Daria said, bouncing between them as Camille smiled down at her. "I'm glad you liked it," he said, and his smile emphasized the words. Then he redirected his focus on Camille. "So, you liked jumping rope?" "I haven't jumped rope since I was Daria's age," Camille said with a laugh as they turned to exit the auditorium. "But I have to say, it's much easier with an invisible rope." He looked at her questioningly. "Oh, I'm sorry, a space-substance rope," she corrected herself. "So, where'd you learn that anyway?" "Theatre Camp when I was 10," he said with a smirk. "Only we played with water balloons." Camille nodded in mock fear. "I'm glad we got the jump rope." They walked outside being met instantly with an overhang of clouds and the first few droplets of rain. "Great day," Jaylon said, throwing his coat on and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, fabulous," Camille said with a laugh, matching his steps perfectly as she held on to Daria's hand. "You want a ride?" he asked, suddenly stopping on the sidewalk by his car. "A ride? Oh, no. No," Camille said. "But thanks anyway. I guess I'll see you Monday." "I'm looking forward to it," he said with a casual wave. "Oh, okay." Her hand went up in something resembling a wave. "'Bye." "'Bye," he said, watching every step she took backward. "'Bye, Daria. See you next week." "'Bye, Mr. Quinn," Daria said at Camille's side. With one final wave they turned and ran to the bus.
That was such a kid's game. Guys who were cool didn't play Magical Box. In fact, as he climbed into his car and felt it roar to life beneath him, he thought about what Ariana would say if she ever found out. "Magical Box?" he said in perfect mimic of her. "I bet they don't do that at Julliard." He steered the car into traffic and punched a CD into the player. Ariana was right. The dream of Julliard was slipping away while he was busy playing Magic Jump Rope with a bunch of kids. But then a picture of Camille sitting on the stage, watching him in fascination, slipped across his mind. Somehow he knew that she didn't think it was silly of him to be there. Somehow she felt the same magic he did. He could see it in her eyes. The car rolled into Hollybrook only a few short minutes later, and still his thoughts were on Camille. Slowly he climbed out of the car, walked in, and in no time he was sitting with Grandma Elana in the Garden Room watching the rain slide down the picture windows in various patterns. After three sonnets about love, his heart could take no more. "Grandma Lani? Mind if I ask you a question?" She just looked at him with unseeing eyes. "See, it's like this... there's this girl at school, and she and I could be really good friends I think. 'Cept she's not really my type. I mean, she likes math, and who likes math?" He shook his head as though it was the most absurd idea in the world. In exasperation, he ran one set of fingers through his hair. "Anyway, she really seems nice, and I'd really like to get to know her better, but she has this boyfriend, and they seem really happy together... except I think he's seeing someone else too... and then there's Ari... and I don't know." He looked at his grandmother. Wishing she could really answer him, he laid a soft palm on her wrist. "You know, sometimes I wish I could be five-years-old again, and we could just go out and swing. Remember that?" For one brief second he saw the recognition in her eyes, and then it was gone again. "Yeah," he said softly as he hugged the white gown to him. "I miss that, too."
By Monday afternoon Camille wasn't exactly sure what she expected to happen when she saw Jaylon, but whatever it was, it didn't. He walked right passed her seat as though Saturday was actually just the dream she'd convinced herself it was. "Class!" Mrs. Allen clapped at center stage. "Last week we worked on voice expression. Today we're going to work on the level below voice expression-a much more difficult ability to learn. They say that when communicating, only 7 percent of our meaning is conveyed with the words we use. Thirteen percent is conveyed by the tone of our voices, but 80 is conveyed by our body language." Camille shifted in her chair, not liking where this exercise was headed at all. "Now, of that 80 percent, you can break it down into hand gestures, body stance, facial expression, and eye expression. I'm sure you've seen people who could tell you more with one look than they could say in a volume of text." The steel-blue eyes stared down at her from the Community Center stage as Camille sank into her seat. "In the interest of broadening our horizons, I think today we will work in two circles." Camille's stomach roiled. It was bad enough to have to do these exercises with Nick. She didn't want to broaden her horizons. She wanted to stay right where she knew she was perfectly safe. "Come on up," Mrs. Allen said, motioning with her arms. The students began filing onto the stage, and one clump at a time, Camille climbed the steps as though she was headed directly to the gas chamber. "Please form two circles facing each other." Camille stood on the inside circle, hoping that Nick would be there when she opened her eyes again, but when she looked up it was Mark, not Nick she was looking at. Shyly she smiled as Mrs. Allen continued. "Let me explain how this works. I want you to stand together with the person who is now your partner-much like you did when we did the last eye contact exercise, but this time you are to put your hands up to each other's-just barely touching. In a way this is a combination of the mirroring exercise and the eye contact exercise, only this time, you must actually communicate with your eyes. "Your goal is to move your hands as one while maintaining eye contact. Ultimately you should be able to do this in complete silence, but for this exercise I'll help you out with some music. Call this shadow dancing." Mrs. Allen went over to the curtain and pulled out a jam box. "Remember that you must always be in the experience. That is the number one goal in acting. Become your character and follow the give and take of your fellow actors on more than just a script level. "We'll start with one hand only. Remember, there is to be no talking at all," Mrs. Allen said as the soft rock song filled the stage area. "Okay. You may begin." In slow motion, Camille's gaze traveled up to Mark's eyes and locked. Wordlessly her right palm mirrored his left. She tried to breathe as his hand slid to one side and then back. Touching only at the fingertips, she followed his lead until after only moments, they were moving in perfect unison. "Good," Mrs. Allen said as she walked around the circle, arms crossed in front of her. "Now, I want the inner circle to shift one person to your left, and start over." Camille's palm dropped from Mark's, and her feet pulled her to the left where she met up with Stephanie's eyes. Stephanie was barely an inch taller than Camille and looked about as comfortable with all of this as Camille felt. They smiled just before Camille's gaze dropped. With a breath she looked up, and blocking out an overwhelming desire to crumple into a pit of self-consciousness, she held up her palm and met Stephanie's. It took a minute before they determined a leader, but once Stephanie took the lead, the exercise became effortless. "Okay, inner circle, left again," Mrs. Allen said. Camille's brain went on revolt. It seemed that just when she became accustomed to one partner, it was time to change. However, with relief she realized her feet had pulled her in front of Nick. Their eyes and smiles said, "Hi" for them as their palms went up with no pretense. Before Mrs. Allen even had the chance to commence the exercise, they were moving in perfect sync. It occurred to Camille as she looked into his perfectly kind eyes that she wished he and she had been the ones to fall for each other. However, although their friendship was rock-solid, that was all either of them would ever want from the other. Looking into his eyes, she knew that completely. "Okay, change," Mrs. Allen said. With a smile, they said, "Good-bye," and Camille shifted left, coming face-to-face with Ariana. In annoyance Ariana put up her palm, and Camille was sure she felt the shiver of revulsion run through her partner the second their hands touched. It was amazing how condescending a single look could be. Camille's spirit withered under the hot, blinding sun of Ariana's gaze. She tried to follow Ariana's movement, but her brain was concentrating so hard on finding ways not to screw up, that it couldn't follow a thing. When Ariana moved left, Camille invariably moved right. When Ariana went up, Camille's hand went down. Contempt coursed through Ariana's eyes with each mistake Camille made until it felt that her partner was a full foot taller than she. Finally, mercifully, Mrs. Allen called, "Change." In a heartbeat, Camille was looking into the steel hard blue gaze she had been fighting so hard to forget for three days. Immediately her gaze fled, searching for safety. However, when she looked back at him, it was kindness not contempt that she found herself gazing into. Struggling not to release her fear from the Ariana-partnership, she put her palm up to meet his. The first touch sent an electric shock right down to her toes, and she felt herself falling into the trance of his eyes. Without her noticing, the music stopped. "Before we begin this next song, I want to take this a little farther. Instead of just one palm, I want you to try two," Mrs. Allen said as Camille and Jaylon continued to stare at each other. Ever-so-slowly his other palm came up in invitation to hers. Without glancing at it, Camille's hand came up to meet it. In one breath her entire being was charged with his touch. "You may begin," Mrs. Allen said as the music began again. As one they began to move, first one hand and then the other-never so much as questioning which they would move next. After a few moments, Camille realized that it wasn't simply a matter of her falling in and following his actions. Alternately he would take the lead and then as though he had made a sweeping gesture allowing her permission to take the lead, she would step in front of him, and his hand would follow hers. Hand-to-hand their souls were dancing as though they were spinning around a dance floor in perfect arcs. "Great. Great," Mrs. Allen said with a clap that didn't phase either one of them. Their dance ended although their gazes held for two more breaths. "Please, have a seat," Mrs. Allen said, motioning to the stage. Camille turned and folded her legs underneath her without really realizing she had moved. She didn't have to look, she could feel him right there behind her. "Tell me what you learned by this exercise," Mrs. Allen said, looking around the circle. "That some people are more clumsy than they first appear," Ariana said in undisguised disgust, and immediately Camille remembered where she was and more to the point who she was. Her confidence collapsed in on itself and plummeted through the stage floor like a rock. She wished again for the safety of the darkened walls. Suddenly the stage seemed bathed in searing, white, hot light, and there was no where to run from that light. "Acting is about give and take, Ariana," Mrs. Allen said, folding her arms across her chest. "It's not about proving how wonderful you are at someone else's expense." Ariana's gaze rolled heavenward. "Well, sometimes that just can't be helped." With a shake of her head Mrs. Allen turned to the rest of the class. "Anyone else?" "It's harder to read someone's thoughts than it looks," Keane said. "It certainly can be," Mrs. Allen said with a nod. "It becomes even more difficult when you're talking about connecting with several different actors in a scene rather than just one." "But it's magic when you get it right," Jaylon said from behind Camille, and her pulse began racing until she realized there was no way he could be talking about her. "Yes, it is," Mrs. Allen said just as the bell rang. "Well, that's it for today. We'll start here tomorrow." Camille was fighting to make sense of what just happened when suddenly she realized Jaylon was standing over her with his hand out-stretched. With a smile of genuine gratitude, she laid her hand in his as the now-familiar electricity raced up her arm. Once she was on her feet, they stood for one more moment simply lost in the unbelievable magic of the other's eyes. "Jaylon?" Ariana asked derisively. "Yeah," he said as one corner of his mouth went up in a silent apology to Camille. "I'm coming." Then he stepped passed her and took Ariana's hand, leaving Camille stranded dead center stage. "Hey, Camille," Nick called from the base of the stage. "You coming?" Her gaze dropped from Jaylon's departing back as her spirit and heart dropped with it. "Yeah."
It is utterly senseless to let yourself fall for someone so totally out of your reach. Over and over Camille told herself that, and over and over throughout the rest of the week she forgot. During class when she was supposed to be concentrating on the day's exercise, she would catch herself staring in his direction. The magic seemed to follow him at every step. It would seep through her soul so that it felt like she, too, could do anything. But then Ariana's comments would come back to her, and the magic would vanish again. Her heart wanted nothing more than to go up and tell him exactly what she was feeling, but her brain knew better than to let her feet have that freedom. An actual, "Get lost" from him would kill her. No, it was far better to hang back in the darkness of the theatre walls and watch him from there. On Saturday morning when she opened the Community Center door with Daria's hand in hers, it was all she could do to keep her feet on the ground. They walked down the hallway to the auditorium, but as soon as they walked through the door, her spirit took flight again. In khaki pants, a white pin-striped shirt, and suspenders, he looked totally ready to take on the whole world, and all she wanted to do was take a seat and watch. "Daria," Jaylon said happily as he looked down from the stage. Then a smile spread across his face and right into Camille's heart. "And you brought your big sister again." Camille's gaze couldn't hold his. She was sure he could see every feeling rushing through her. "I'm not staying. Umm, I think Daria will be fine without me." "Not staying?" he asked as though that was terrible news. "Oh, man, I was hoping I could get you to help me." "Help?" she asked, looking up and immediately getting caught in the swirling excitement of his eyes. "Me?" "Yeah," he said quickly repositioning himself on the stage. "I could use a couple of extra hands. That is, if you're not doing anything else." "Oh," she said taken aback by the offer. "No, I just didn't think you would want me around." He checked her with an odd look before that amazing smile spread across his face again. "Of course I want you around." Her gaze fell to the floor as her heart took off around a racetrack. "So, will you stay?" he finally asked, tilting his head so he could get a better look at her. "Yeah," she said even as she warned her heart not to read too much into the offer, but it was too late. With one look in his eyes, it was speed-reading through the book.
He had watched her all week, jealousy burning in his stomach every time Nick touched her or made her laugh. And the only way he had made it through the week was by focusing on Saturday when they could be together-no Ariana, no Nick-just the two of them and a room full of kids. "Okay, everybody have a seat we'll get started," he said, wishing his voice would stop squeaking. The kids sat down, and slowly the chattering subsided. "We're going to play a game today called Dr. Mix-up." He sat down on his little chair and prayed that it wouldn't dump him in the floor. "Now, I'm going to choose somebody to be it." Instantly 19 hands went in the air. "Not yet," he laughed. "Let me explain the rest of the game." The hands sank as he glanced at Camille for one second and then thought better of that move. "First, I'm going to split you into two groups to make it easier the first couple of times. One group will go with Camille, and one group will stay with me. Let's see..." Quickly he split them into groups before continuing the instructions. "We're going to choose someone to be Dr. Mix-up." He looked at Camille who immediately fell into her role as teacher. Two Dr. Mix-ups were chosen and sent into the hallway. "Okay in your group, everyone link hands. Good. Now, I want you to mix yourselves up. Like this." He took hold of Cory's shoulders and pushed him under the hands of two other children around to one side and through the arms of two other children. "Get as mixed-up as you possibly can, but don't let go. Okay?" The children nodded as did Camille. "Great. Then mix up." Gradually and then faster the children began to crumple the circles. "Don't let go," he called over the growing confusion. "Don't break your hold." Screams and shouts in the midst of the increasing chaos erupted as Camille's whole group struggled to stay on their feet. "Okay, great! Now, when you think you're as mixed up as you can get. You yell, 'Doctor Mix-up!'" Instantly the children mimicked his call for help as their laughter mounted. The two Dr. Mix-ups walked back in and looked skeptically at the groups. "Come on! Come on!" Jaylon said, waving them up onto the stage. "Your job is to get this untwisted without breaking anyone's hold." "Help!" the twisted children chorused. "Go for it," Jaylon said, smiling at the wide-eyed skepticism of the two doctors. They went to work on their respective groups as Jaylon and Camille called out helpful hints. Slowly the two sets of tangled students disentangled and became perfect circles once again. "Good job!" Jaylon said, laughing and clapping. "We need new doctors." "Me! Me!" the children chorused. "Let's see, Katelyn and Daria." The two girls raced off the stage, and as soon as the door closed behind them, he looked back at the remaining children. "Okay, go."
"We want you to play," Jomei said to Jaylon. "Me?" Jaylon asked as though he had never considered such a thing. "Oh, I don't think so." "Come on! Please!" the children called. "One time!" "Okay," he finally said with a mischievous grin, "I'll play if Camille will." Her shields didn't have time to come up before she was hit double barrel with his smile and his eyes. "Oh, I don't think so," she said instantly backing off the stage. "I'm not very good at this kind of thing." "Please! Please!" the children yelled. "Please, Camille!" She looked across their heads at him and shook her head, knowing she couldn't run. "Fine." "Yeah!" Jaylon joined the group on one side, and Camille joined on the other. Cory was chosen to be Doctor Mix-up, and the second he left the room, with glee the children set about snarling themselves into one big, tangled mess. In no time Camille's arms felt like they should be made of spaghetti. One was wrapped completely around her back as she knelt on the floor. The other was stretched out between two little legs in the other direction. At the first cry for help, she joined right in. "Dr. Mix-up! Help!" Once Dr. Mix-up was back, it took an eternity of untangling and giggles to sort out the mess. "Could you please hurry?" Camille asked, trying to be polite and teacher-like although her arms were about to snap off. "Please?" "Here," Cory said, pulling one leg over her arm making a little more air at the bottom of the pile. She took a breath of fresher air just as she looked across the mess and caught Jaylon laughing at her. Suddenly trapped in the hilarity of the situation, a small laugh escaped her throat. The more she laughed, the wider his smile became. She was caught, and she was helpless, but she was having the time of her life. "Okay, Jason," Cory said from somewhere far above her. "You step over here." At that moment the pile on top of her shifted dangerously as she felt a small foot wedge itself securely in the crook of her elbow. "Be careful." With one glance at the sudden fear in Jaylon's eyes she knew the whole thing was falling. Without questioning the move, she let go of her hold on the two hands on either side of her and landed on her back flat on the stage just as small bodies began pummeling hers. They bounced off of her as her own body cushioned their landings. In less than a heartbeat she was at the bottom of an entire stack of children. "Here," she heard Jaylon saying from somewhere above her, and daylight seemed a million miles away. Second by second the stack seemed to get lighter until finally she was once again free, and Jaylon was looking down at her with concern. "You okay?" She rubbed the back of her head gently as she sat up. "Yeah. I'm fine." "Here." He held out a hand to her, which she accepted and pulled herself to her feet. As soon as she looked around however, she was met by 19 sets of fearful eyes. With a quick brush of her jeans, she laughed. "Just do me a favor, and don't let Cory operate on me anymore." The children laughed as the first parent walked through the doorway. Jaylon went off to match children with parents, and Camille found Daria and smiled. "That was fun, huh?" "Yeah," Daria said enthusiastically. "Did you see when I had my hand behind my back like this..." Just as Camille turned to lead Daria off the stage, she saw Cory standing off to the side, his gaze glued to his shoelaces. "Stay here. Okay?" Camille said to Daria. She walked over to the little boy with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Hey." He didn't look up, so she sat down beside him. "It's okay," she said, watching him. Her heart could hear the derisive words flowing through his little head. "I didn't mean to make it fall," he said as his toe made circles on the stage. "I know you didn't. I was just trying to make a joke," she said, feeling the sadness pour out of his soul into hers. "Hey, it wasn't your fault. Those things happen sometimes." "But you got hurt." "No, I didn't. I'm fine. See." She held out her hands for his inspection. "Besides we can't learn if we don't make a few mistakes. Right?" Slowly he looked up at her, and the tears were shimmering on his lashes. "I'm sorry." "No, hey." She folded him into her embrace. "You didn't do it on purpose. You were trying your best. That's what counts. Okay?" After a moment, he nodded. "Good. Now, I'll see you next week, and maybe we can play jump rope again. Does that sound fun?" The little boy's eyes shone with only the smallest hint of sadness as he nodded and then skipped off to join his mother at the bottom of the stage steps. Camille stood and descended the steps herself. She glanced over at Jaylon who was talking to a parent. He was busy, best not to disturb him. However, just as she was about to gather her coat and head out the door, Jaylon held up his hand to stop her even as he continued his conference. Reluctantly she stopped and shifted feet. It would've been better if she could've made a clean break. But that wouldn't be happening today. When the parent finally nodded and steered her child in the other direction, Jaylon walked casually over to Camille, a concerned look etched on his face. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. "Yeah, few little elbow-sized bruises, no biggy." "What was wrong with Cory?" Camille's gaze dropped from his as the guilt over her earlier comment hit her hard. "He thought he was the reason I got hurt. I just told him I was okay, and that I was looking forward to seeing him next week." A soft smile crossed Jaylon's face. "I'm glad you worked everything out." "Yep, all better." Camille looked down at Daria so she would have somewhere other than his face to look. "Well, we'd better be going." Quickly Jaylon headed for the stairs. "Just a second. I'll walk you out." Foiled again. Why couldn't she just get away from him-and stay away from him? It was a vexing question; however, with him so close, her brain had no hope of tackling it. "Ready?" he asked, descending the stairs with three clumps. Camille shrugged. "I guess so." With Daria between them, they left the auditorium, told Mrs. Dixon good-bye, and walked out into the sunshine. "Well, I guess this is it," Camille said, hugging her coat to her more as protection against him than because she was cold. "It doesn't have to be." His eyes called hers to look up. "We could go down the block here and get some burgers." "We really should be getting home," Camille said, gauging how far it was to the bus stop and how quickly she could make it there with Daria in tow. "Oh, come on. You've got to eat. Don't you?" The heat traveled up Camille's ears. "I... didn't really bring any money to..." "My treat," he said instantly. Her gaze snapped up from the concrete to his face. "You don't have to do that." "You didn't have to stay and help either." "But I wanted to do that," she said, and then she saw a strange look flash through his eyes, and she regretted that statement. "I just want to take you and Daria for a burger. Come on. That's not asking all that much. Is it?" Movement at Camille's elbow pulled her gaze down to Daria's upturned face. "Please, Cami" Daria said, the pleading in her face and her tone. "Please." "Yeah, please, Cami," Jaylon said, and when she looked up at him again, there was something close to a smirk playing at his mouth. Finally she shook her head, knowing she was out numbered. "Fine. But we can't stay long." "One extra-speedy burger coming up." Camille was careful to keep Daria between them. There was something about the possibility that their elbows might touch that threw her mind into chaos. Once they were in the little burger joint, they sat down, and she made a point to survey the menu carefully. Anything to keep her gaze off of his face and his eyes. A waitress came and took their order, and then there was nothing left to escape into. "So, did you have fun today?" Jaylon asked Daria who bounced in the booth three times, jarring Camille's already worn-out nervous system. "I liked Dr. Mix-up. That was fun. That one time I had one hand behind me and my foot was like between two people, and I was twisted like this." Daria contorted herself into a pretzel and then giggled. "It was great." Jaylon laughed. "We played that with a hundred people in camp when I was about your age. Talk about crazy. We had four doctors, and they were supposed to get us all untangled. Turned out this one girl would've had to do a back flip to get back in the circle. I still don't know how that happened." The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Jaylon took a small sip of his. "So Daria, what are you going to be for Halloween?" Camille watched Daria shrink back into her seat a little bit, and she knew the source of her sister's discomfort. "We really don't have the money for a costume," Camille said, feeling the need to protect Daria from having to tell Jaylon that herself. "You don't need money," Jaylon said taken aback. "The best costumes are the ones you come up with on your own anyway." "We're not very creative around our house," Camille said, wishing he would just drop the subject. However, Jaylon had already zeroed in on the idea. "Let's think about this. Hmm. You could be a ghost. All you've got to do is get an old sheet for that." Daria's face scrunched in revulsion. "Boring." "Okay. How about a card like the king and queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland. You get a cardboard box and color it like a card. Then you wear black underneath it." "We're really not very artistic," Camille said, trying again to throw him off this ridiculous idea. "I had this friend one time who showed up as a sheet of music. She drew notes on a sheet like it was real music. That was pretty cool." Daria considered that and then shook her head. "Not that either?" he asked as though he was stymied. "Well, how about this. Why don't you tell me something you really like?" Knowing she was the center of attention, Daria milked the moment for all it was worth. She cocked her head to one side, presumably going through every experience of her life in search of what she really liked. "Computers," she finally said with a nod. "We get to play on them sometimes at school. They're fun." "Computers," Jaylon said as the waitress set their plates in front of them. He picked up the ketchup and shook it hard. "Let's see. We could get a big box, and some markers." He put ketchup on his plate and then held it up as an offering to the two of them. With concern Camille accepted the ketchup wondering when this discussion had gone from you to we. "I've got an old keyboard at home I could loan you. Actually the thing is pretty useless to me, so you could basically have it. And we could draw a screen on the box or maybe cut the screen out of the box, and we could string cords and wires around you." Daria was mesmerized by the idea. "That sounds like fun." "It's just Halloween," Camille said suddenly seeing the stakes of his offer getting much too high. "We can just throw a sheet over her and go around our building." But Daria was having none of that simple stuff anymore. "No, I want to be a computer." "We really don't have time to do that," Camille said, hating the fact that she had to be the one to live on ground earth. "Besides, where would we find a box that big?" "I bet they have something here we can use," Jaylon said between bites. Then before Camille could protest, he summoned the waitress. "You wouldn't happen to have a box about this big would you?" "A take out box?" the waitress asked in confusion. "No, for a Halloween costume." "Oh. I don't know. I could go check." "Would you mind?" "No. I'll be right back." Camille felt like prison bars had just assembled themselves all around her. "You really don't have to do this. I mean we won't be able to get the thing on the bus anyway." "That's okay." He shrugged as he bit into his hamburger. "I can take you home." This was getting out of hand. "I don't know if that's such a good idea," Camille said in trepidation. "I'm sure you've got other things to do." "Nope. I'm free all afternoon." The waitress came back carrying a large box. "Is this what you're looking for?" "Perfect," Jaylon said with a smile. "Terrific," Camille said under her breath. "Just what we need."
Although she told herself not to, Camille sat in the front seat looking in not very well disguised awe at the enormous house beyond. It was huge. Trees shrouded some of it, but she could see enough to push her soul further away from him. What was she doing here? This was Jaylon Quinn, not some geeky freshman with a protractor strapped to his wrist. As though to remind her of that fact, Jaylon stepped out of his front door at that moment. The promised keyboard was tucked casually under one arm and a brown briefcase-type thing swung from the other hand. He looked like he had just stepped off some men's wear catalog page. "Sorry," he said when he slid back into the car. "I had to dislodge the keyboard from a mountain of computer stuff." Camille nodded, wishing her brain could stay on the same track. Maybe if she just didn't look at him, she would be better off. Gazing out her side window, she whipped her thoughts into one straight line. "I didn't know you were into computers." "Oh, I play around with them some when I get bored." "So you have your own computer?" Camille glanced over at him and then quickly reversed course to look out the window again. "Two of them that work, but one of them is basically junk." He had two working computers. That said volumes about Jaylon Quinn and the world he lived in-far, far removed from her own dank, dark existence. "You know, I just realized something," Jaylon said as the car slowed. "What's that?" "I have no idea where we're going." For one split second Camille thought he was joking, and then she realized she didn't know where they were going either. "Oh, I... guess we could go to... my house," she said, wanting that less than anything. Jaylon drove several more feet. "That doesn't help me much." "Oh. Yeah. Umm..." And then despite every screamed protest in her head, she directed him through the traffic to their apartment. Every other part of her was trying to find a way out of the situation, but inexplicably her mouth kept giving him the directions until in the blink of an eye, they were sitting at the curb in front of her apartment. The juxtaposition with his house wasn't lost on Camille at all. They got out, and Jaylon went to the trunk to extricate the box from its depths. When he came around to them again, Daria held the keyboard, and Camille the brown case. "What's this for anyway?" Camille asked, raising the case slightly. "Set design," Jaylon said as they followed Daria up the walk to the apartment. "We're not designing a set." "Okay. Costume design," he said with a laugh. Camille surveyed him with a skeptical look. "Trust me," he said teasingly. "I really can do more than act." That's what she was afraid of. They entered the darkened apartment, and Camille's critical eye danced over the room seeing everything that was out of place or a sad replica of the items that she was sure were in his house. "Let's see what we can do," Jaylon said, sitting down on the couch that Camille was quite sure still smelled like the thrift shop they had gotten it from. However, he seemed not even to notice as he set the box on the coffee table and reached for the case. She handed it to him and glanced back into the kitchen. "Umm, you want something to drink or something?" Bolts of steel blue met her gaze when it returned to the living room. "You have any tea?" "Yeah... umm, I think so." Her eyes wanted to run, but they couldn't tear themselves from his. Math. His eyes always reminded her of their conversation at the bottom of the stage steps. Vehemently she shook her head to get it to clear. "I'll just get us some." With wings on her feet, she fled into the kitchen and busied herself with the glasses. If she could just stay in here long enough, he would leave. That would be more than she could ask for at this moment. "You want sugar?" she called, breaking into the strategizing going on in the living room. "No, thanks," he called back, and even the sound of his voice was enough to send her heart galloping. Her shaking fingers managed to get the two glasses of tea and one of orange juice together. When she stepped back into the living room, neither of them noticed her, and for one moment she stood there and simply took in the picture. Jaylon sat, mapping the project out as Daria carefully fingered the contents of the mystery case. As Camille got closer, she could see its contents-art supplies really, colors that looked like paint, scissors in various sizes and shapes, pencils and pens in a rainbow of colors. "Be careful, Dar," Camille said a little too harshly as she set the glasses on the side table. "It's okay," Jaylon said off-handedly. "She can't do too much damage." He picked up the box. "Here, stand up. Let's see how we want to do this." Daria stood, and carefully he set the box over her head. It dropped and covered her all the way passed her shoulders. "I think we can cut our screen out of right here, and then we can make little shoulder straps for the inside so it won't be resting on her head the whole night." Deftly he lifted the box up, and Daria stepped out. "I'm going to need the long scissors." He pointed into the box but didn't grab the scissors, which were easily within his reach. Very carefully Daria lifted them out and handed them to him like a nurse in the emergency room. With remarkable precision he punctured the box and sent the scissors around the side. "Cool," he said when he was finished. He positioned the box over Daria again, and then went to work on the shoulder straps. "Here, why don't you two decorate the outside of it?" Wide-eyed Daria surveyed the case of paints. "It's okay. Use anything you want," he said with a nod. Quickly Camille slid to Daria's side before the child had time to destroy the contents of the case. "Here, let me help." Without question or complaint, Daria settled in between the two of them, and together they worked to fashion the best computer costume ever.
"Thanks for your help," Camille said deliberately putting a small note of displeasure in her voice. She didn't want to give him the idea that she had enjoyed the afternoon. That seemed far too desperate. "I had fun," Jaylon said with a soft smile. "If you ever need a great costume, I'm your man." His words danced through her head. "I'll see you Monday?" "Count on it." When he left, she quickly shut the door, but then her heart couldn't take not seeing him one more time. She walked over to the blinds on the window and pushed them aside. Jaylon Quinn. Even if she could actually tell anyone, she knew they would never believe her. She didn't believe it herself. Reluctance and determination struggled to let her heart drop the blind. "It must be some geek out reach program," she said, yanking the anger to her. "Forget about him, Wright." If only it were that easy.
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