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Dreams by Starlight By Staci Stallings "So, Cami are you going to the play on Friday?" Lexie asked over her chalupa. "I don't know," Camille said, her attention in the grasp of the formulas she was memorizing for her test the next period. "I hadn't really thought about it. Why?" "Well, Nick and I are going," Lexie said. It had been more than a month since they had connected at the 'Oklahoma' play, and even though they had spent practically every free moment together, Lexie still had that wispy quality in her voice when she talked about him. "I just thought you might want to go with us." The formulas slipped from her mind as she looked at Lexie, fighting not to let the hurt find her voice. Being a third wheel was getting old. "I'm sure you guys would have more fun without me." Instantly Lexie's eyes narrowed in confusion. "No we wouldn't. We want you to come." She looked up passed Camille's shoulder and smiled like the dawn. "Don't we, honey?" "Don't we what?" Nick asked, straddling the table bench next to Lexie and planting a kiss on her forehead as she leaned into him. "Want Camille to come with us on Friday," Lexie said with the tiniest of giggles. "Oh, sure." Nick looked across the table as though he hadn't yet noticed that Camille was sitting there. "There's always room for one more." One more. Great.
"Now, in the past week, I've noticed that when I ask for pairs, most of you tend to pair with the same person over and over again. I understand that, but I think it's time to move out of your comfort zone a little and start learning about the other people in the class." Camille's fear shield immediately flew up. No, comfort is good. Please. Comfort is fine. "Rather than try to pair people myself, I've cut up numbers in this hat. You are to take a number and then find the other person with that number, and for today the two of you will be partners." For one brief second Camille thought she might be sick on her shoes, and at the moment that looked like a really good idea. It would solve so many problems. Mrs. Allen approached her with the hat, and with a short sigh, Camille reached in and pulled out a number. It really didn't matter what the number was. If it was anything other than Nick's number, it meant trouble. "What'd you get?" Nick asked, holding his number out for her inspection. 7. She unfolded her own. 3. "Rats," Nick said. "Well, see ya." And he walked off to find his match. Camille looked around as the trepidation rose in her chest. She didn't want to be number 3. She didn't want to be number anything. She wanted to leave. Now. "Are you number 3?" a voice asked behind her. "Yeah." Camille turned and found herself gazing into a face framed by wispy brown hair and sporting perfectly gorgeous cheekbones. Jaylon. Instantly her gaze dropped to her clothes as her hand flew to her glasses and then to her hair. "Umm, yeah. I am." He smiled at her although she saw only the beginning of that smile as her eyes wanted nothing more than to force her feet to run. "Okay," Mrs. Allen said when the class had paired off. "Your exercise today is eye-to-eye contact." Camille squeezed her eyes closed and fought to make herself disappear. She should've paid more attention at that magic show she'd seen when she was five. "I want you to face each other and count to fifty very slowly-looking directly into your partner's eyes the entire time." Camille's gaze was fixed on his shoes, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out how she was ever going to get it to move again. "It's okay," Jaylon said, tilting his head as if he were talking to a frightened animal. "I don't bite." For a brief second her gaze traveled up to his as she laughed, but immediately it dropped back down again. Trying not to think about what she was about to do, she swallowed once and then forced her gaze back up to his as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. "Go," Mrs. Allen said. Camille bit her bottom lip as she looked up and stared into his eyes-unable to look away even though she wanted to. The blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the wisps of hair-all met in perfect unison. "Eight, nine, ten," Jaylon counted as his mouth moved in slow methodical motion. She shifted her shoulders struggling to break the spell his gaze cast over her, but there was no breaking this spell. "Fifteen, sixteen," he said as she forced the air into her lungs. Never in her life had she looked into anyone's eyes for a full minute. Most of the time she did everything she could not to get caught in someone else's sights. Just keep moving, keep your head down, and they won't notice you're there. That was her motto. For most of the last ten years, they were the words she had lived by. Until this moment. "Twenty-seven, twenty-eight." It was then that her thoughts shifted from her own thoughts to those staring back at her from his eyes. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find in his eyes exactly-arrogance, cruelty, superiority-but not one of that was hidden anywhere in the pools of blue. Staring back from the depths of his eyes was the same fear and uneasiness that her own spirit felt. "Forty-two, forty-three," he said, and her ears caught on the softness of his voice. It sounded like a breeze brushing passed her, and she wondered how she had ever lived before hearing his voice in this way. "Forty-nine, fifty," he said, and their gazes held for one more moment. "Good," Mrs. Allen said, breaking the spell between them and jerking both gazes across the stage. Camille ran a damp palm down the front of her jeans and readjusted her glasses. "Now I want the partners to find a place in the auditorium. Not necessarily on stage. I'm going to give you five minutes. I want you to find a topic and discuss it, but I want you to do it looking into each other's eyes as much as possible." Camille's toe made an arc around her other foot. She still hadn't recovered from the first exercise, and five minutes was far different than one. "How about if we go over here?" Jaylon asked, pointing to the stairs as he reached out and touched her elbow. His touch carried a jolt of electricity with it, and she had to force herself to shrug and walk to the stage steps nonchalantly. She sat on the third step from the bottom, but when he followed her down, her knee tensed so as not to touch his. "You may begin," Mrs. Allen said. "Any suggestions?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to look at her. "Umm, I don't know. Classes?" she asked, feeling the pained look cross her face as her hand tugged at the heel of her shoe. "Okay," he said and paused a beat. "Umm, you have to look at me, remember?" "Oh, yeah." She stumbled over the words as she forced her gaze back to his. Looking back at her was sincere interest. "So, what's your favorite class?" She smiled as her entire body instantly relaxed. "Math." "Math?" he asked in surprise. "Yeah. Why? Is that so hard to believe?" "Well, no. I guess not, but I hate math." He ran his fingers through his hair to push it back out of his face. "I'm just surprised anybody likes it." "You hate it?" she asked, forgetting this was supposed to be hard. "But it's so fascinating." "Fascinating? I can think of another word for it," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Oh, yeah? What's that?" "Torture." She laughed and shook her head. "No, now you're talking about drama." "Huh?" he asked, and her gaze dropped from his to her shoestrings. With a shove she forced her gaze back up although this time it didn't lock on his. Instead it wandered around the stage and the auditorium at the other partners. "How can you not like drama?" he asked in genuine confusion. "Drama is awesome." Her eyebrows raised as she looked back at him in open-eyed mortification. "Not when you're me. It isn't." His gaze immediately reflected concern. "Why not when you're you?" Mrs. Allen clapped her hands, which almost sent Camille tumbling backward off the steps. "I'd like everyone to come back over to the seats again," Mrs. Allen said. Camille scrambled up from the steps and swiped at the dirt she was sure was on the back of her jeans. She turned and walked down passed the front of the stage feeling him right next to her back. Quickly she walked to her normal seat in the third row, and it wasn't until she sat down and realized Jaylon had taken his usual spot on the other side of the auditorium that she began to breathe again. "Good," Mrs. Allen said as she sat down on the center of the stage. "Could someone tell me what you learned from that exercise?" "That looking at anyone for five minutes is asking way too much," Mark said, and several students laughed. Mrs. Allen smiled. "Try 25 years." "No, thanks," Mark said seriously. "Okay," Mrs. Allen said. "Anyone else?" "That we hide who we really are by not looking people in the eye," Jaylon said, and Camille's gaze snapped to his profile. "How so?" Mrs. Allen asked. Jaylon sat for one moment during which Camille's heart felt like it might actually leap from her chest. "Well, when you really look into someone else's eyes, it's like there's nowhere to hide. It's like letting them look into who you really are. It's pretty intimidating." "Hmm. Intimidating?" Mrs. Allen asked. "Interesting word choice. Anyone else?" Several other students spoke, but Camille didn't hear any of them. Jaylon Quinn thought she was intimidating? He must be joking. There wasn't an intimidating bone in her entire body. When the bell rang, she grabbed her things and walked next to Nick out the door. "So, you're coming with Lex and me to the play then?" Nick asked, pushing the door open for her as the crush of students spun around them on the other side. "Yeah, I guess so." Camille shrugged. "I might as well get it over with." Nick leaned away surveying her. "Well, don't get all excited on my part." Camille laughed softly. "It's not that. I just feel... unwanted when I'm around you two. Not that you're doing it on purpose. I mean if I had my soulmate with me, I probably wouldn't pay much attention to anyone else either." "Are we that bad?" he asked somewhat embarrassed. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he grinned. "Okay. We are." "It's okay," Camille said. "I understand." They walked to the lockers where Lexie was waiting, and Nick gave her a peck on the cheek. "How was drama?" Lexie asked. "It was drama." Nick leaned on the lockers next to Lexie. "So, what are you doing now?" "Going home, I guess," Lexie said, peeking passed the fringe of her eyelashes. "Why?" "I don't know. I was just wondering if you wanted to go over to Sal's with me." "Sal's?" Lexie asked as her eyes widened. "Now?" "Yes, now," Nick said, laughing. Camille busied herself digging into the depths of her locker. Her mind traced over all of her assignments for the evening. "Well, yeah, it sounds like fun," Lexie said, and Camille heard the lilt in her voice. "Great," Nick said. With a heave Camille pulled her backpack to her shoulder. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." "Aren't you coming with us?" Nick asked obviously pulled up short by his lack of foresight. "No, somebody's got to cook," Camille said with a brave smile. "You two have fun." Without another word, she turned down the hallway and trudged off. As she climbed onto the bus alone, she pictured them at Sal's-a place she had seen only from the outside. Girls like her never got invited to Sal's; girls like her never got invited anywhere. It wasn't that she was jealous. She was happy for Lexie and for Nick. It just hurt that no one wanted her like that. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, and immediately Jaylon's eyes were there, staring back at her. Even in her imagination she couldn't tear her gaze from his. Intense. That was a good word to describe his eyes. Like piercing laser beams cutting right into her soul. Annoyed with herself she shook her head and opened her eyes, realizing with a start that the next stop was hers. Daydreaming had never gotten her anywhere, and it certainly wouldn't now-especially about something as impossible as Jaylon Quinn being even vaguely interested in her. There was a reason he was Jaylon Quinn and she was Camille Wright and it had nothing to do with them ever getting together. With determination she pushed all the thoughts of his eyes out of her mind and descended the bus steps. It was an exercise, and it was over. There was no more to the story.
The instant he saw the darkened skin and deep brown eyes of the girl Nick was obviously with, Jaylon's claws came out. What man in his right mind would cheat on his girlfriend? Even if that girlfriend wore funny glasses and had her head stuck in a book most of the time. That didn't give him the right to flaunt someone else in her face. That was just plain cruel. "I thought so too," Ariana said and then punched Jaylon. "Didn't you?" "Oh, yeah," Jaylon said with a shake of his head. "Of course I did."
"So, you're coming tonight, right?" Nick asked as he followed her out of the auditorium on Friday. She sighed. "Yeah, I'm coming." Nick walked a few steps without saying anything. "Look, I wanted to tell you I'm really sorry about the other day." She looked at him in confusion. "When I didn't invite you... I mean I meant to... it was a general invitation." Her gaze fell to her feet. "Don't worry about it. Sal's really isn't my kind of place anyway." "Oh, really?" he asked. "So what is?" She thought about that for a moment. "Home." She transferred her attention from her shoelaces to her locker. "Hey, Lex." "Hey," Lexie said, beaming at Nick. "So, you want us to come get you tonight, Cami?" "Oh, no," Camille said instantly. "I'll just catch the bus." "It's really no trouble," Nick said, leaning a shoulder against the lockers. "No, that's okay." Camille forced a smile onto her face. "I'll just meet you there at... seven?" "You sure?" Lexie asked, and the pity in her eyes stung the backs of Camille's. "Yeah." She slammed her locker door. "I'll see you there tonight." Without a backward glance she walked away as slowly as her pride would let her. They were just being nice. That's part of it, she thought, be nice to the best friend. But reality was they didn't want her around, and one way or another she was determined to make herself as scarce as possible.
Clutching her notebook to her, she took one more look through the crowd in the lobby and then gave up for good. Ticket in hand she went to the door and then carefully descended the rose-colored carpet berating herself for not pulling her hair back. It was always such a mess when she let it down because she spent most of her time pushing it out of her eyes anyway. One day with it down convinced her to pull it back the rest of the year. She pulled her ticket closer and squinted in the growing darkness. G7. "G... G." Carefully she descended the steps and then turned right into row G and found seat seven, which was two seats from the side curtain. "Excuse me. Excuse me." In annoyance she pushed her hair over her ear again as she struggled to get passed the other people already seated. "Sorry." The lights faded to black just as she slipped into her seat. Quietly she opened her notebook and pulled the pen from behind her ear as a hazy blue light illuminated the stage. She glanced down at the playbill resting on her notebook. 'My Fair Lady.' Huh, must be something about musicals, she thought with a shake of her head, and then she focused her attention on the stage again.
He surveyed the seats on either side of her. One was full. One was not. He wondered where her Romeo was. Had Nick stood her up? If she was his date, he would never stand her up. It occurred to him that he should be watching the play, but every time he tried, his attention would fall back to the curve of her shoulders under the fall of light brown whisper soft hair. Math? Tonight she didn't look like a math ace. Far from it. She looked like the quintessential theatre patron-all creative new age. The flowing print skirt, the non-fitted top, not one thing about her was harsh or even awkward tonight. The audience around him laughed, and it pulled his attention back to the stage just as the lights went up. Intermission already? The people next to him stood, and he moved his knees. After they were gone, he watched to see if she too would leave, but besides allowing the people next to her out, she remained. He wanted to go talk to her-just to say hi, but something in his stomach said that would be presumptuous. Nick was probably meeting her at intermission anyway. But she didn't move, didn't even look around. It looked like she was deeply engrossed in something. It was then that he realized she was writing. Without him telling them to, his legs stood, and he slid out of his row, descended two steps, and slipped into hers. Fighting to appear casual as he got to the seat next to her, he leaned on the seat in front of him and almost fell over it when it leaned forward. "Oh, excuse me," Camille said, looking up and swiping at her belongings on the ground to get them out of his way. Then in mid-swipe she stopped and ever-so-slowly her gaze traveled up his legs, passed his chest, to his eyes, a move which sent his heart racing. "Hi," he said totally unsure of how she would take this intrusion. "Oh." Her gaze jumped from his eyes passed him into oblivion and then dropped. "Hi. Umm. I didn't... umm, where..." She looked around like an animal trapped in a cage. "Hi." Careful not to throw her into more confusion, he smiled again. "Umm, I saw you sitting down here, and I thought I should at least come and say hello." "Oh, okay. Hello." She pushed her glasses up as her translucent locks fell over her face. Quickly she pushed them behind her ear. "Umm, what are you doing here?" "Watching the play," he lied, flicking his head backward toward the stage. "Oh, yeah, of course." She pushed her glasses up again. The people from her row returned, and Jaylon suddenly found himself trapped as well. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked, pointing at the empty seat next to hers. "Yeah," she said instantly and then shook her head. "I mean no. I mean, yes, you may." "Cool." In one motion he slipped passed her and into the seat. The other people crossed in front of them and took their seats. "So, what's that? Notes?" "Umm, yeah." She looked down at her notes, and then she looked around behind them to the back of the theatre. "Where's Ariana?" "Ari... oh," he said, realizing he hadn't even thought about his girlfriend for more than an hour. "She had a family thing. So where's Nick?" "Oh, I don't know. We were supposed to meet, but we kind of had a mix up with the tickets or the time or something. I couldn't find him when I got here." "So you decided to see the play by yourself?" She shrugged, and his mind went immediately to the light reflecting off the fall of hair on her shoulders. "I figured since I was here, I might as well." The lights began to dim again, and with one more smile at her, Jaylon settled back into the seat to watch the second act.
In utter frustration she nailed her gaze to the stage. If she didn't pay attention, she was going to have to come back again tomorrow night to even have a chance at writing a paper about this play. However, the only thing her attention could focus on was the heat of his arm two inches from hers. Balancing her notebook, keeping her attention on stage and away from him was making her head swim. She put her head down and pushed her glasses up, immediately swinging her annoying hair out of her face when she straightened. Nothing about the play or life was making any sense. If she didn't get out of this auditorium and away from him, she was quite sure the coroner could simply come pick her up right there. Applause erupted around her, and her thoughts crashed back into the auditorium. She picked up her hands to clap, a move, which sent her notebook sliding off her knee. "Oh." She grabbed for it, which sent it flying into the seat back in front of her and then crashing to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, but before it found the notebook, her hand met up with Jaylon's. The applause around them froze as their gazes met. She wanted to move, to say something, anything, but nothing other than his eyes was getting through to her nervous system. "I'm sorry," he finally said as he reached down between them and pulled her notebook off the floor. Carefully he wiped it off and handed it to her. "It wasn't your fault," she said utterly mesmerized. Then her attention caught on the people standing behind him, waiting to get out. "Oh." His gaze followed hers up, and immediately he scrambled to his feet. "Sorry." "No problem," the well-dressed lady said as she and the man with her slipped passed them. Once on his feet, Jaylon leaned against the chair facing Camille's as his gaze flitted across the auditorium. When Camille looked up at him, he was running his fingers through the feathers of his hair, and her heart told her that looking at him was a very bad idea. "So," he said in a voice that sounded like he was being strangled, "are you... doing anything now?" "Now?" she asked, standing and pushing the pen behind her ear. "Umm, no, I mean, yes. I mean I was going home." "Home?" Jaylon looked over her shoulder at the dwindling crowd. "Oh, well, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go get some ice cream or something." "Me?" she asked, trying to shake herself awake knowing this must be a dream. "Of course you," he said with the most amazingly soft smile she'd ever seen. "I know a place just around the block. Come on." As though it was the most normal thing in the world, he took hold of her elbow and led her out of the row. Once in the aisle he took her hand and helped her up the stairs. It was an act of gallantry she was supremely grateful for because without it, she would probably have tumbled right back down the aisle and into the music pit. On soft wings, he steered her through the lobby and out into the neon lit night. "My car's over here," he said as he routed her path through the departing theatre patrons. When she reached the car, her heart which was already well into cardiac arrest, stopped completely. "Oh, you really don't have to do this. I mean I really need to get home." But he opened the passenger door as though she hadn't spoken a word. Without saying anything, he took her hand and helped her into the car. The soft gray leather seat wrapped around her as a feeling of safety that she had never known wound over her heart. Like a rock star sliding into his limo, he climbed in on his side and smiled at her for one brief second before starting the car.
Camille shot him a confused look and then laughed. "Oh, wink murder." "Yeah," he said as his heart lit up with a smile. "That was fun." She ducked her head. "I thought we were all done for." "Yeah, but I wasn't counting on who I was up against," he said, and then his face fell as the memory of Nick standing in the line leaving the theatre streaked through his mind. Hand-in-hand with the other girl, Nick hadn't even looked like he was trying to hide it. With a shove Jaylon pushed that image out of his mind and focused on Camille again. "So are you planning on going to college next year?" Her fingers drummed on the table. "Yeah. If I can get in." "In where?" "Princeton." "Princeton?" he asked as his arm slid from the booth back. "Impressive, and you're going to study..." As if she had just floated away from the table, she laid her chin in her hand. "Areospace engineering." Jaylon's eyes widened in surprise. "Areospace engin...? Wow. That's... that's... wow." Camille shrugged, the dream crashing out of her eyes. "If I can get in." He regarded her for a moment. "And you think that's going to be a problem?" "I don't know. I've got the grades and everything, but..." "But?" She glanced up and readjusted her glasses before digging her spoon into her ice cream without taking even a single bite of it. "I'm going to have to get a lot of scholarships and stuff. That's why I really like Princeton. They have this no-loan/grants only program for financially challenged students, which is a lot better than the other schools." "Like?" "Cornell for one. Or Yale. Or Columbia." "Jeez, you don't aim low. Do you?" Slowly she seemed to shrink over the bowl of ice cream. "As far as finances, Princeton's my best bet. But then there's the problem of actually getting accepted there. I mean I'm not really the most well-rounded person in the world, and Mr. Marsh seems to think that's going to hurt my chances." "But if your grades are good..." "Yeah, but they look at a lot more stuff than just grades these days, and in those categories, well..." Jaylon's gaze dropped to his own rapidly melting soft serve as the fights over Julliard played through his mind. "So, what about you?" she asked, glancing at him. "I'm sure you've got colleges falling all over you." He laughed. "I wish. UCLA seems interested, but I don't know. That's a long way to go for school. Besides, I really want to go to Julliard." "Talk about shooting for the stars." Ache screeched through him as he shrugged. "Not that it'll ever happen." Her confident face fell in puzzlement. "Why not?" "Oh, I don't know, a lot of reasons. I guess." "Name one." His thoughts contorted around the screaming matches in his brain. "My dad mostly. He doesn't want me to go." "Are you kidding? Julliard is an incredible school. There are people who would kill to go there." "Yeah, well, it may kill him if I go there." "Why's that?" "Oh, he basically thinks it's a disgrace to have an actor for a son," Jaylon said, immediately regretting the statement. He had never told anyone about his father's harsh words. Camille shook her head as though that made no sense. "But he has to know how good you are-up there on the stage." His gaze slid across the table and plummeted to the floor beyond. "He's never even been to a performance." "He's never...? You're kidding me?" she asked in consternation. "Why not?" "I don't know. He's busy, I guess," Jaylon said. "It's no big deal really." She swirled her ice cream around in the bowl. "I can't imagine someone saying that I couldn't do math anymore. They might as well cut out my heart." "What with the sharp tip of the compass?" he asked with a wry smile. With a glance up, she laughed. "Yeah. Something like that." "How was your 'scream?" he asked, pointing at her bowl with the tip of his spoon. "Oh, good," she said, looking down at it. "Thanks. I really didn't expect this." "Well, it seemed kind of pointless to waste a perfectly good Friday alone." He shrugged. "It's nice to have a friend to share it with." She shook her head, and locks of hair cascaded down around her face. Off-handedly she pushed them behind her ear. "Yeah, friends seem to be in short supply these days." His thoughts returned to Nick and his "other" date, and his gaze fell to the table. "Well, anytime you need a friend..." He looked up and caught the disbelieving look in her eyes. "What?" "I don't know." She fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket. "You're just being so nice to me." "And that's a bad thing?" he asked, not really sure where his misstep had come but seeing it in her eyes just the same. "No," she said softly. "It's just that... well, we're not exactly from the same crowd." "But we're both in drama." "No, you're in drama, I'm in a class I was forced into." His forehead furrowed, and then he understood. "Marsh." She nodded. "He said Princeton won't even look at me if I don't have something other than academics on my record. Not to mention the scholarships I'm going to miss out on." Her hair glinted over her shoulder as she shrugged. "If I can just make it to the end of the semester, I think I can drop out and take another computer class or something." "Drop out? But the production isn't until spring." She smiled in self-deprecation. "Trust me, no one wants me in the Spring Production-least of all Mrs. Allen." "She's cool." "She hates me." "No she doesn't," he said incredulously. "Yes, she does. Ever since that falling on my face incident the first week. Believe me, I know when I'm out of my league with something." "Just because something's new, doesn't mean you won't get it," he said, wishing his gaze could find something other than her hair or the soft curve of her chin to concentrate on. "When I feel like I'm out of my league with something, I always think about that saying about God putting a light at your feet. He didn't say on your head so you can see everything. Just at your feet so you can see the next step." "Yeah? Well, I'm liable to trip on every step there is." He frowned. "You don't mess up everything you try." "Ha, then you don't know me very well, do you?" No, but I'd like to, his brain said. "What does that mean?" Abruptly she looked at her watch. "I've got to go." She stood, and he followed her up, throwing a few bucks onto the table as he hurried to the door to push it open for her. "I asked you a question," he said as his steps quickened beside her. "Thanks for the ice cream," she said, walking right passed his car. "I'd better get home." "Where are you going?" he asked, stopping by his car for a second too long. "Don't worry. I'll just take the bus," she said over her shoulder. "The bus?" he asked, forcing his confused feet to turn and follow her down the sidewalk. "But I can take you home." "No," she said without ever slowing her steps. "I'm fine, but thanks." The air brakes of the bus exhaled at the curb as without even checking the bus number on the city map, she climbed aboard, leaving Jaylon standing on the curb, hands in the air, and confusion coursing through every brain cell. Even after the bus had disappeared around the corner, he stood for another long moment before turning as he replayed their conversation in his head. She loved math. She hated drama, but she was willing to do something she hated to be able to do something she loved. It made sense in a way. He opened his car door, climbed behind the wheel, and sat, staring after the long gone bus before he reached down to start the car. It was then that he glanced into the passenger seat and saw the notebook. Her notebook. As though it might explode if he even touched it, he picked it up and flipped on the interior light. Something told him he shouldn't open it, but his hand wasn't listening to his head. He turned the top page over. "Fragile Glass" It was the beginning of the rough draft of her analysis of Laura from "The Glass Menagerie." "In a world of glass houses, it may take only one, small stone to bring a life down, to crumble it to the core, to shatter the hopes and the dreams of someone with only hopes and dreams to live on. It may be a simple laugh, hurled at someone at her most vulnerable moment. It may be a comment, a thoughtless aside, meant to be funny but actually so devastating that the object of it never really recovers. Or it could be a parent's expectations set so high that no mere mortal could ever reach them, and then hurled with every opportunity at the fragile glass the child has constructed. Whatever it is, the stone seldom matters to the person hurling it, but to the person on the receiving end, it could be all it takes to destroy a house, painstakingly constructed, and meant only to shelter a lost, hurting soul from a cold, cruel world of stone throwers." With tear-blurred vision, Jaylon looked up into the neon-lit street, and his eyes fell closed against her pain.
"You are a real couple." Camille sat at her vanity table pulling a hairbrush through her hair slowly as she examined her reflection in the mirror. Dork. It was etched on every fiber of her. She was a dork, a geek. Even sitting with Jaylon Quinn could never change that. "No, I mean a real couple," Lexie breathed on the bed. "And then when he dropped me off at my house, he didn't get out of the car like he usually does. He sat there for like a real long time, and for a minute I thought maybe he was going to break up with me or something, but then he asked me if I'd be his girlfriend. Just like that, 'Will you be my girlfriend?' It was so romantic." The hairbrush clattered to the vanity table as Camille stood and walked over to the desk absently. "You were already his girlfriend. Big deal." "Yeah, but it wasn't official until last night," Lexie said. Camille shuffled through her books looking for her notebook so she could get started on the assignment. However, she shook her head as she reached the bottom of the stack and still hadn't found it. Slowly she restacked her books to the other side of the desk in confusion. Her notebook had to be here somewhere. It wasn't like it could've gotten lost... and then she remembered, and her heart jumped into her throat. Jaylon's car. She hadn't gone back there after the whole ice cream fiasco. Jaylon Quinn had her notebook. The chair caught her as her knees buckled. No, surely she couldn't have been that stupid. With increasing urgency, she dug back through her books. "He asked me out to the Homecoming dance next weekend," Lexie said never losing the wispiness of her voice. "I'm going to go downtown to get me a dress... What's wrong?" Camille slammed her bottom drawer, opened the next one up, and then slammed it closed. "I forgot a notebook." "So, you'll get it on Monday. Big deal," Lexie said with a shrug of her shoulders. But it was a big deal.
It was a very big deal.
From the moment she got to school, Camille looked for him, rehearsing her speech until she had it memorized. But she never saw him, not even once. However, in reality, she knew that even if she did, she would never have the nerve to go up and ask him for the notebook. By the time she got to Drama, her nerves were frazzled, and her head was pounding. Somehow she had to get that notebook without humiliating herself in front of Jaylon or Ariana or Nick. "Hey, you're early," Nick said, sliding into the seat to her left, causing her heart to skip a beat. "Yeah." She shifted in her own seat and tried to look like she was thoroughly engrossed in her Physics homework. "I wanted to get some work done on my drama paper." Nick pointed to her notebook scrawled with formulas. "That's not drama." "Oh, no, it's not." She shifted in her seat again just as her attention snagged on the black jeans gliding down the center aisle. In frustration her eyes fell closed, and then she forced them opened again in resignation. "I couldn't think of where to start, so I gave up." She smiled at Nick helplessly. "So, I figured I might as well make some headway with this." "So you won't have to lug everything home tonight," he said with a knowing nod. "Something like that," she said, forcing herself not to glance into the front row. Nick dug into his jacket pocket for his pen. "The play was good." "Yeah, it was." She wished she remembered more about it. Writing the paper without her notes was not going to be easy. "Lexie liked it, too." Immediately Nick's face flushed. "She told me you're a couple now," Camille said, temporarily forgetting the notebook problem. "Congratulations." He ducked in embarrassment. "Yeah, well." "Yeah, well." Camille leaned into him with a laugh. "Seems like girlfriends must just be dropping from the sky these days." With a shake of his head, he laughed. "What can I say?" For one, single second she glanced passed Nick and found herself gazing right into Jaylon's steel hard gaze. Her heart dropped like a rock as the smile slid from her face. Jaylon turned back around to answer Ariana, who had obviously just asked him something. Camille watched them for a moment and then yanked her gaze back to her Physics book. Concentrate on something you can do-not on the impossible.
So he was resigned to watching them from across the room, wishing the entire time that he had the guts to tell Camille what a scum her boyfriend was. He was supposed to be critiquing Ariana's monologue, but sitting on the stage only inches from her what he really wanted to do was hear the monologue Camille was reading for Nick on the steps. She smiled at something Nick said and ducked her head. Her braid swung gently over her shoulder, and he remembered the way her hair fell over the sides of her face the night of their ice cream social. The thought sent his heart racing. "Hey," Ariana suddenly said in front of him. "I said, 'What do you think?'" "What do I think?" he asked, struggling to come back from his journey to the steps. "About the monologue?" "Oh, yeah." He yanked his attention back to her. "It was great." "Great?" Ariana asked in horror. "What kind of critique is that?" Jaylon shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry. Umm, it could use some work." Ariana's eyes went hard as he squirmed under her scrutiny. "That attitude's never going to get you into Julliard." "I'm sorry." He shifted again. "I zoned out for a minute." His gaze caught Camille's hand as it pushed up the edge of her glasses and then fell to the other one holding the page of script. "It won't happen again." Just then the bell rang, and he watched Nick offer Camille a hand up off the stairs. "Play critiques are due Wednesday," Mrs. Allen called over the clattering of departing students. "We'll continue this tomorrow." Jaylon scrambled up to his feet. "I finished my essay for the Julliard application in history today," Ariana said over her shoulder as Jaylon followed her off the stage, his attention focused squarely on the braid already swaying up the center aisle. "I thought you might like to read it... you know, to get some ideas for yours." "Okay," Jaylon said, trying to map out a plan to get the notebook to Camille without Nick or Ariana as an audience. He couldn't very well call her name out as that would attract the attention of more than just Nick and Ariana. Quickly he reached down and grabbed his things just as Camille walked out the auditorium door. "I can help you with yours if you want," Ariana said, following him up the aisle. "I mean if you need some inspiration." He never heard the implication in her voice. His hopes for getting the notebook to Camille today evaporated as Ariana stuck right to his side. "...Seth's dad's house Halloween weekend," Ariana said. "He's going to Vegas, so Seth has the house all to himself." "Cool," Jaylon said, hoping that was an appropriate answer. When they crossed out into the hallway, the braid was long gone.
More than that, she felt like she was cheating on the assignment. They were supposed to go watch a play-not rent a movie. But then again, she reasoned as she paid for the movie, she had gone to the play. Watching it again on television was doing more work than was required. However, not even she was buying that. She hadn't seen anything passed the second act, and she knew it. At home she popped the video in and grabbed another notebook. This one she wouldn't let out of her sight. Although she basically remembered the first part, for the sake of her note taking, she watched the whole thing. The cockney accents on the video were much harsher than the ones the actors had used in the theatre, and it took awhile for her ears to adjust to the new language. As she watched, her options of what to focus on for her paper widened. The voices, the characters, the storyline. They were all possibilities. However, by the time Higgins and Pickering were congratulating themselves on their great accomplishment, Camille's stomach had formed a hard ball of disgust for the two. Eliza, who had made it through the ball without falling on her face once, was cowering in a dark corner as her benefactors reveled in how preposterous the whole ordeal had been. Camille's face grew hot with the implication of their presumptuousness. She watched Eliza, listening to them, and Camille's heart went out to her. She knew all too well about being someone's charity project, and it really didn't matter how well-intentioned the benefactor was. It was still the deepest form of insult. She watched the lady the common ignorant flower girl had become, and somewhere, deep down, she wished that she too could be turned into a perfect lady. However, her heart plummeted to the depths of her soul when behind Higgins, Eliza offered no protest to his final demand for his slippers. As the credits rolled, Camille wanted to take Eliza and shake her. Didn't she see, even after coming into herself, how beautiful she was, how it no longer mattered what everyone else thought, how she didn't have to be a doormat for Higgins to step on? Higgins and his stupid bet. He was above Eliza. He believed it, and so did she, and no amount of coaching and teaching could ever change that. She was who she was, he was who he was, and no matter what she did, in his eyes, she would never be anything more than a common, ignorant flower girl. As the tape hit the end and whirred into rewind mode, Camille's thoughts turned to Jaylon. He was no different than Higgins. His place in the hierarchy of the school was set, and so was hers. Just because he talked to her, took her out for ice cream, drove her around in his car. It changed nothing. In his eyes, she would always be the klutz with the funny glasses. That hurt, but that was reality, and allowing herself to believe anything else was an invitation to getting her heart shattered. "All I have to do is get through this semester, and then I'll never have to worry about being Jaylon Quinn's charity case again."
He had read and reread that paragraph over and over until it was a part of him now. More than once his thoughts had carried him back to the day when she had fallen on the stage, and he knew that he was as guilty as anyone else on that stage for hurling a stone at her. That stone stung his own spirit now as he recalled that the one person who didn't laugh was not him, but Nick. In a haze of her words, he made his way through the day, now seeing even the smallest encounter with his fellow students in a different light. Without bothering to go to his locker after sixth period, he raced down the hallway to the auditorium. Maybe he could catch her there before Ariana or Nick had a chance to change out their books. He yanked the heavy door open and stepped into the cool, darkness of the auditorium. That room had a way of wrapping around him like a favorite, old blanket. Carefully he searched the seats as he strode down the aisle. Then just off to the right, he caught her movement, and he smiled. So she was here. His steps quickened as he walked down the slight incline to where she sat. However, when he reached her chair, she didn't look up like he'd expected her to. Noise pulled his attention to the door, and he knew he had only a few seconds. "Camille," he said, laying a soft hand on the chair arm beside her and sitting on his heels in the aisle by her seat. Her pencil streaked across the page at the first sound of his voice, and he laughed as his heart raced out ahead of him. "Oh, my gosh." She laid a hand over her chest before she flipped the pencil over and erased the errant mark. "You scared me to death." "Sorry," he said, liking how close his hand was to the heat of her arm. The clattering of students entering the auditorium brought his attention back to his mission. Quickly he dug in his backpack and pulled out the notebook. "I... umm, you left this... in my car... the other night." Fighting to keep his hand from shaking as he held the notebook out to her, he glanced at her only once as she accepted it. "Sorry, I didn't get it back to you sooner." "Oh, that's okay." She pushed up her glasses as she laid the notebook on top of her other work. "Umm, thanks for returning it." "No problem," he said just as he looked up and saw Ariana breeze in through the door. In the next breath he realized Nick was already halfway down her row on the other side of her seat. "I'll see ya later." On unsteady legs he stood as Ariana met him in the center of the aisle. "Hey, Babe." Guilt or something very much like it caused him to reach out to Ariana and wind his arm through hers. Without another glance at Camille, he guided Ariana the rest of the way down the aisle to the front row although he could feel her fury in the ice of the glance she shot back in Camille's direction. "What were you doing talking to super freak?" she asked in what sounded to him like a stage whisper-loud enough for the back row to hear. "She just said, 'Hi,'" he said with a shrug. "I couldn't very well just walk passed her." The stone was out of his hand before he realized it was there, and immediately his spirit regretted it. "Huh," Ariana said, shaking her head in annoyance. "I would have." Jaylon watched her take her seat, and then he fell into the seat next to her before busying himself with pulling out his things. "That doesn't surprise me."
"Oh, nothing, he dropped a book by my chair," Camille said. "I was just giving it back to him." The heat in her ears made them pound. Just thinking about Jaylon's mesmerizing presence was enough to send her sanity flitting away from her. "How's your paper coming?" Nick asked, shifting to a new topic while Camille's mind was left stuck on the old one. "Paper?" "The critique," Nick said with a puzzled look furrowing across his forehead. "My Fair Lady?" "Oh, that paper," she said as though the wheels of her brain had just unlocked. "Pretty good. How's yours?" "Great. I'm doing it on 'enry 'iggins," Nick said perfectly replicating the cockney accent of Eliza Dolittle. "What about him?" Camille asked as her brain finally moved from the auditorium seat and Jaylon's gaze to her present conversation with Nick. "About how his character evolved-you know, rising action, falling action." "Evolved?" Camille's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "He didn't evolve. At the end he was still as condescending as he was at the beginning." "No, he wasn't." "Yes, he was. He expected Eliza to go get his slippers like a little puppy dog. He never even considered her feelings. Not once." "But he helped her. He was glad she was there." "No, he wasn't," Camille said, her thoughts crashing into Jaylon's eyes again. "He wasn't helping her for her. He was helping her for himself." Nick shook his head. "What difference does that make? He still helped her." Camille swung her head to the side in annoyance. "Maybe she didn't want his help." "Of course she did. She agreed." "Oh, yeah, like she had a choice." They walked several more paces in stony silence. "Well, what are you doing your paper on?" Nick finally asked again. "Eliza, and how she put way too much emphasis on what everyone else thought." "What does that mean?" "It means, she was just fine before Higgins came along and she would've been just fine without him. Better probably." "But she would've stayed a flower girl forever if he hadn't offered to help her," Nick protested. "She needed someone to get her out of the gutter, to show her what she could do." "You don't pick someone out of the gutter as an experiment." "Higgins was just trying to prove his point." "And he used Eliza to do it." They walked up to the lockers, and Camille yanked hers open. "People have feelings, Nick. It doesn't matter if they're rich people and can speak correctly or if they think they come from the gutter. They still have feelings." "What's up?" Lexie asked, looking from one to the other as Nick planted a kiss on her cheek. "Nick's doing his paper on how wonderful Higgins was," Camille said not trying to hide the contempt in her voice. "I didn't say he was wonderful," Nick protested. "I said he evolved." "Well, apparently you need to look up the word 'evolved.'" Camille yanked her books out and then swung her backpack to her shoulder. Lexie looked from Nick to Camille as Camille started down the hall and then turned. "Are you coming or not?" With one helpless look at Nick, Lexie took off after her friend. "What was that about?" Lexie asked as they walked outside and rounded the corner to the bus stop. "He doesn't get how condescending and elitist Higgins was," Camille said, anger searing through her voice. "Nick?" Lexie asked in disbelief. "Nick is the most kind-hearted person I know." "Yeah, kind-hearted enough to make sure no one is left out," Camille said as the humiliation she felt at being Jaylon's charity case transferred itself to Nick. "Got to be sure everyone is included." "What's wrong with that?" Lexie asked. "Nothing," Camille said with a vehement shake of her head. "Nothing's wrong with that, unless that person would rather not be helped."
Of course, there had always been those teachers who thought they were helping by pulling her into the middle of whatever was going on. They weren't helping. How could they be helping if every time she tried, she fell on her face? It was she who had to deal with the cruel comments in the dressing rooms. It was she who had to endure the annoyance of her classmates when she was reluctantly chosen last for every team. It was she who had to live with knowing she would never aspire to be even average in any field that didn't somehow incorporate numbers. No, it was she, not they who had to live her life, and all she wanted to do was stay as far away from anything bearing humiliation as possible. They didn't understand. They thought anyone could do it. But they were wrong, and she knew it. No amount of coaching could raise a flower girl up if that flower girl was meant to stay a flower girl.
"Where were you at lunch?" Nick asked, sliding into the seat next to her. "Trying to get my homework done," Camille said. It wasn't a total lie. She had been working on her paper, but it didn't come close to the real reason she had chosen not to go to the cafeteria with him and Lexie. "We missed you." He sat, staring at her for a long moment. "Listen, I wanted to say I was sorry about yesterday. I went back last night and looked over my notes, and I guess I kind of see what you mean." "No," she said, thankful for the darkened theatre. "I shouldn't have jumped all over you about it. I was just stressing out about my paper, and I kind of took it out on you. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." "I understand." He smiled and extended his hand. "Truce?" "Truce."
"Today we're going to work on voice expression," Mrs. Allen said as she accepted the papers from the student in the front row. "This it?" She held up the papers, and Camille nodded as though the question was meant explicitly for her. "Remember you need two by semester's end. Some of you need to get on the ball." Mrs. Allen laid the papers on the stage. "Now, what I want you to do is open in your books to page 72. There are three different mini-scripts to choose from. I want you to choose one, and then with a partner, you are to sit back-to-back and act out the script using only your voice for expression. Okay, that's the assignment, spread out." Without questioning their partnership, Camille and Nick stood. "Want to go on stage?" he asked. Camille shrugged her acceptance. Together they climbed the steps and sat down side-by-side to decide what reading they were going to tackle. "I like this third one," Nick said, pointing to the last reading after a few minutes. Without bothering to read through it, she agreed. Slowly they slid around each other until she felt the light touch of his back on hers. It was a strange sensation. She slipped her book into her lap and closed her eyes to get herself together. However, when she opened them again, she found herself staring right at Jaylon who sat just across the stage from her. Instantly she ducked her head and shifted uncomfortably. Don't think about him, just read. "You're first," Nick said when the silence behind him had stretched on too long. "Oh, sorry." She swallowed and focused her attention on the book. "Umm, I didn't ask you to do it for me, I asked you to help." "I was helping," Nick said from behind her. Her jaw set unconsciously. "No, you weren't. You weren't helping. You were doing. There's a difference." "There's not a difference. Here, hold this. Now, we just need to glue this down." He paused two beats. "Hold it still." "I am holding it still." "No, you're not." "Yes, I am,'" Camille said vehemently. "I'm doing the best I can." "Well, that's not good enough," Nick said totally into the scripted fight. Camille opened her mouth to deliver the next line, but the tears in her throat drowned out the words. She fought to read the words, but the blur in her eyes made that impossible. Desperately she blinked them back, struggling to remember that this was only a script. "Camille?" Nick finally asked, turning slightly. "It's your line." "You're right," she finally said, sniffling softly. "It's not good enough, and it never will be."
"I just want to make sure we understand each other," Ariana said from behind him. His gaze reached across the stage to Camille. "Yeah, we understand each other perfectly."
"I know," she said from behind the mask she had clamped down over the tears. "It's okay. I should've read the dumb thing before we started." "Well, next time I'm opting for the love scene instead." They made their way out into the brightly lit hallway as Camille laughed. "I think we'd better warn Lexie before we start doing any love scenes together." "You've got a point there," Nick said with a laugh. "By the way, you know Lexie's birthday's next month. I was wondering if you're planning on doing anything for it." "Anything? Like what? Make a cake?" "No, I was thinking more along the lines of a party... or maybe a double date." "Oh, I don't know," Camille said, trying to make it sound light and cheerful although the suggestion sounded more like a death sentence. "Lexie's not much on parties, and I don't know of anyone who'd want to take me out." Nick took a half-step back and looked at her. "You know, I think we're going to have to find somebody for you." "Oh, no," Camille said in horror. "Don't you go getting any ideas." "What, you think you're the only one who can play matchmaker?" "Matchmaker?" Lexie asked as they walked up. "For Camille? Good luck." Camille knew the comment was a joke, but somehow it didn't feel like one. "Why not?" Nick asked. "She can't be any harder to fix up than Eliza was." "Oh, Lord," Camille said in exasperation. "Let's not go there." "What do you think, Lex? How about Zac?" "No," Lexie said, appraising Camille. "Better go a little slower than that." "Slower. Okay. How about Oren?" "I said slow, not dead." "Point taken," Nick said. "What about Barry?" "I don't know," Lexie said, surveying Camille carefully. "How about nobody," Camille said as she slammed her locker for punctuation. "Look, I'm not interested. Okay? I'm not looking, and I do not want to be set up. Now, I'm going home because I have a very important date with a Calculus book." She slapped her hand on the side of the book. "So if you'll excuse me." They watched her walk down the hallway. Nick shook his head. "She needs a date."
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