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Dreams by Starlight By Staci Stallings By Monday afternoon Camille believed she had succeeded in convincing herself that the whole Saturday thing was a mirage-some trick of magic that made her believe in illusions. That was simply the only explanation for it. Shrouded in the relative obscurity of the darkened auditorium, she sat crouched over her Physics II book. According to her nervous system, she was concentrating solely on her homework; however, the second her ears picked up Jaylon's voice from behind her, every piece of her body jumped to attention. Fighting to look casual, she glanced over her shoulder, and her hand went unconsciously to lift her glasses. Like the perfect couple they were, Jaylon and Ariana strode down the center aisle side-by-side. They seemed to be locked in a riveting conversation. "I got everything we need," Ariana said as she reached up and feathered her hand through his hair, "my Marc Antony." "I'm sure Cleopatra herself would be jealous," Jaylon said, wrapping an arm around Ariana's waist, and Camille's head immediately fell back to her book. So it was a mirage. Okay. Now you know. Forget about them. Forget about him. To him you're air. Vapor. Just get some studying done, and get on with your life. "Good afternoon," Nick said jovially as he slid into the seat next to Camille. Her pencil continued to make unintelligible marks on her paper. "Whatever." His eyes narrowed with concern. "What's wrong with you?" "You have to ask?" She nailed him with a stone-hard gaze that caused him to back up several inches. "Jeez. You're pleasant this afternoon." "I've just been hiding my true nature for two months. Be thankful it lasted this long." Mrs. Allen walked onto the stage, and with an annoyed sigh Camille stuffed her Physics II book into her backpack. Why did her whole life have to be one long drawn out torture session? Avoiding Nick's gaze, she focused on the stage and folded her hands in front of her. One part of her said she shouldn't be mean, but then she glanced across the auditorium where Cleopatra and Marc Antony sat, and every raw nerve in her body throbbed. "Today we're going to try some improvisation," Mrs. Allen said, and instinctively Camille sunk deeper in her chair. "Please count off starting over here." Slowly the count worked its way over to Camille who wished she could just crawl under the auditorium seat and stay there forever. However, when the count got to her, she dutifully said, "18." "Good," Mrs. Allen said when everyone had counted off. "I want all the even numbers on this side of the stage, and all the odd numbers on that side." Reluctantly Camille followed Nick up the steps and took her place on the opposite side of the stage. She looked around at her fellow "evens," realizing with a sinking feeling that Ariana was in her group. That had to be trouble. "Okay. I want one player from each side to come to the center of the stage," Mrs. Allen said, waving Keane and Mark forward. "There are two hats filled with character suggestions. Please choose a character." She waited a moment for them to have their characters in hand. "Your task is to become the character you chose and act that out at this door. Keane you are the visitor. Mark you are the house occupant. The rest of you are to watch carefully and decide what they are supposed to be. Whomever gets their character guessed first and the person who guesses correctly win a candy bar for Halloween." Nothing this degrading was worth a candy bar, Camille thought as she slunk into the stage curtains. "Go," Mrs. Allen said. Instantly Mark's shoulders hunched over, and Keane dropped to his knees and knocked on the imaginary door. Slowly Mark opened it. "The hunchback of Notre Dame," someone yelled out, and Mark shook his head in annoyance. "Santa's elf," someone else yelled. "Yes?" Mark asked in a squeaky voice as his hand rested on a cane made only of thin air. "May I help you?" "Hello," Keane said in a high-pitched falsetto. "I'm with Troop 76..." "A girl scout selling cookies," Jill called out. "Very good," Mrs. Allen said and doled out candy bars to both Keane and Jill. "Next?" Two more willing volunteers stepped up, drew out characters, and went through the process again. It wasn't until there were only six people left on the stage that Camille realized she wasn't going to get out of this. Stupidly she had let Nick slide through the door with someone else, so now she was on her own. She looked across the stage at the three remaining partners-Jaylon, Tessa, and Stephanie. "Next," Mrs. Allen said, and when no one moved, the moment of doom had arrived. "Stephanie, why don't you come try it?" If there had been a trap door leading to the fires of hell, Camille would have gratefully jumped down it. But it didn't appear, so with her eyes closed, she stepped forward toward the door. The lights felt like they were a million degrees, and Camille's heart was thudding with such ferocity that she could barely hear Mrs. Allen's instructions. Trying not to think about the ramifications of the action, she reached into the hat and pulled out a slip of paper. 'A small child left home alone.' Camille pushed the fact that there were 20 other people watching her away, and slowly sank to her knees. She willed Daria's best terrified look onto her face as she took her place next to what she decided would be her window. In her arm she "held" a teddy bear, thanking providence above for the extra credit work with Jaylon's Magic Box. She peeked out the window as Stephanie, hunched over and holding something in her hand, knocked on the other side. Camille looked over at the door, and her face crumpled. A single inch at a time, she crossed the stage to the door, and by the time she stood at the door, she was a tiny bucket of water works. The entire frame of her body had become no more than three feet tall. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she examined the door. "Who is it?" "Hello?" Stephanie said in a shaky old woman's voice. "Buy an apple from an old woman..." The menacing evil sound in Stephanie's voice forced Camille's true fear to jump to the surface. Just as she reached up to stick her thumb in her mouth, someone called out, "She's the witch from Snow White!" "Very good," Mrs. Allen said, clapping. "We didn't even have to open the door for that one." Camille got to her feet and stepped passed the make-believe door, grateful only that today's torture was over. She didn't even pause at the bottom of the steps before she retook her seat next to Nick. "Nice job," he said, offering her a hand, which she slapped awkwardly. "A little kid, right?" She nodded and settled back to watch Jaylon become the most annoying, pushy salesman she had ever seen. Tony, on the other side of the door, never had a prayer. As soon as he opened the door, Jaylon hauled his "product," which resembled an enormous vacuum cleaner into the house without so much as a thank you for asking me in. "Let me explain how wonderful this machine is," Jaylon said, setting up the pieces of the machine as Tony stood blinking in shock. "It's got seven. Count them seven additional attachments... six of which you will only get if you live in Ohio, but that's okay for a small upgrade fee, we can order the attachments for... where am I again?" "A salesman," several people shouted, laughingly. Jaylon smiled and nodded in satisfaction. "Very realistic, Mr. Quinn," Mrs. Allen said as she tossed him a candy bar. He took a quick bow as he departed the stage, and Camille's nausea machine turned on full-blast. How could she possibly have thought he was anything other than an arrogant jerk? Nick was right. Jaylon Quinn thought he owned the school, and his lady vampire, who was at the moment vamping all over the stage, was just as bad or worse. Liking him was such a joke. It wasn't that he was out of her league. It was more that she wanted nothing to do with the league he was in. The bell rang even as Ariana continued her over-dramatic scene. Without pause, everyone in the audience stood and started talking right over the top of her. Wanting only to escape, Camille stood and started gathering her things. However, students on their way out bumped into her like foosball men. Fighting to stay on her feet, she reached down and swung her backpack to her shoulder just as someone bumped squarely into her other shoulder. "The teddy bear was a nice touch," the person said right in her ear. Instantly Camille spun around and caught Jaylon's gaze as he stepped passed her. For half a moment, she thought she must have imagined he'd said anything because he just kept walking. But then he turned and winked at her, and although she knew she shouldn't, she couldn't stop the smile. "Jerk," Nick said from behind her, and Camille looked back at him. "He ought to learn that the world doesn't revolve around him." She couldn't agree, and she couldn't disagree, so she changed the subject. "So what are you and Lexie doing for Halloween?" "I've got a paper for English to finish." "No trick-or-treating?" "Nope, not this year," Nick said as they crossed over into the hallway. "That's too bad." Nick shrugged. "Halloween was never one of my favorite holidays anyway." "Oh, yeah, what is?" "Thanksgiving." Camille checked him with a questioning look. "Turkey," Nick said, rubbing his stomach. "Lots and lots of turkey." "Who's a turkey?" Lexie asked, linking her arm through Nick's. Camille ducked into her locker quickly. "I didn't say anything." "Bad news," Nick said, chagrinned. "You didn't get it finished?" Lexie asked. "'Fraid not. You're going to have to go be a spook without me." Nick laid his head on the top of Lexie's. "But maybe Camille will take you out trick or treating." "Yeah," Camille said, wondering when the last time she and Lexie had been out alone together. Long before Nick, that was for sure. "I'm going to take Dar out later. You're welcome to tag along if you want." Lexie looked at Nick as though her petulant face might change his mind. "Okay. Fine. I guess since I'm dating Scrooge, I'll have to go with you." "Hey, Scrooge doesn't like Christmas," Nick said, picking his head up in protest. "And you don't like Halloween." Lexie said as she punched him in the arm. "Yes, Camille, I'd love to go with you and Daria." It was such a resounding yes, how could Camille possibly say no?
"Man, it's freezing out here," he said as he hurried his steps next to Ariana's Cleopatra sweeping entrance walk. "Could we hurry it up?" "Cleopatra doesn't hurry anywhere," Ariana said regally. "Oh, yeah, forgive me." He stepped in front of her to open the door to Seth's house. With Seth's parents safely in Las Vegas, it was a foregone conclusion that tonight's party would be a blow out. The only damper was the fact that tomorrow was a school day, but by the looks of the turnout, not many students were overly concerned about that. As they made their way through the crowd, Jaylon had to remember not only to keep from crashing into anyone, but also not to get too close to Ariana's train. At the refreshment table Seth stood ripping bags of chips and Cheetos open. "Hey!" Seth said happily when the two of them sauntered up. "Great costumes." "As always," Ariana said, bowing gallantly. "Where'd you pick her up?" Seth asked. "Egyptians R Us?" "You should be careful of whom you speak," Ariana said, never breaking character. "My army is poised to defend my throne." Seth raised an eyebrow and looked over at Jaylon. "Good luck." "Thanks," Jaylon said dramatically. Taking Seth's hint, Jaylon turned Ariana away from the refreshments and back out to the dancers. "How about it? You want to dance?" "Is that any way to address your queen?" Jaylon bowed although what he really wanted to do was throw up. "A thousand pardons your majesty. Wouldst thou endeavor to partake in some rhythmic movement with thy humble servant?" "Your words are my guide." Ariana outstretched her hand, and Jaylon accepted it. Not one particle of him wanted to be here. As he took Ariana in his arms for a slow dance, his mind searched for the place on the earth that he really wanted to be. Then the thought of a tiny body, sporting a giant computer head, flashed through his mind, and he had to physically stifle the laugh. Without question that's where he wanted to be. "Hey, check out Cleopatra," someone called over the music, and Jaylon felt half-a-hundred gazes travel passed him to his queen. As though he was merely a decoration, Ariana released herself from him and bowed to her audience. He was sure that had there been roses in the room, they would now be raining down around them. Around her. This impromptu adulation had nothing to do with him, and as he stood in her shadow, he wondered if it ever had.
"Ahh, come on," Daria and Lexie begged simultaneously. "It's early, and I'm not even tired yet. We can do the next block..." "No. We've got enough candy to rot six people's teeth right out of their heads. Now we'll do this last porch light, and then we're going home." "But I don't want to quit," Daria said petulantly. "Too bad," Camille said, hating the harshness in her voice. "Now, go get your candy, and let's go home." Sullenly Daria turned her feet up the walk, and Camille thought of a small child, clutching a teddy bear, peering out an imaginary window. With a shake she banished that thought. In its place floated another memory of the two of them sitting in the car in thrift shop costumes waiting for their mother to come out of the house she had disappeared into an eternity before. Vehemently Camille shook her head. The less she thought about anything, the better off she was. As Daria made her way up the last sidewalk, Camille and Lexie stood at the curb. "You're awful quiet tonight," Lexie said. Camille shrugged. "I just want to get this over with. I've got history to read." "Dar's costume is great," Lexie said, glancing at her friend. "I didn't know you were so talented." "Yeah," Camille said with the fakest laugh she'd ever heard. "Neither did I." "Drama must not be too bad if you're learning to come up with costumes like that." "Oh, don't let it fool you. It's torture from minute one on. I hate it," Camille said as Daria skipped back down the sidewalk. "I'm going to quit at semester." "Quit? But I thought you needed a year of it." "College applications go out in January, so they won't have my last semester's class schedule on them anyway." They turned down the walk and started home. "I'm just not cut out for drama. I knew that when I started, and it's becoming more obvious every class." "I like drama," Daria said sweetly. "Oh?" Lexie asked with amusement, and Camille's chest filled and refused to release that air. "Yeah, Mr. Quinn
is nice," Daria said through the computer box on her head. "Mr. Quinn?" Lexie asked in confusion. "He's Daria's drama teacher," Camille said quickly. The more pieces she could fill in, the fewer there would be for Daria. "She's started going down to the youth center on Saturdays. I thought it would be good for her to get out of the apartment for a change." "So, do you like drama?" Lexie asked. "It's great. We play magic box, and I even got to be the Magic Chooser." "Impressive," Lexie said with a serious nod. "You'll have to show me how to play magic box sometime." At her front door, Camille unlocked it and let them in. "Dar, why don't you go get out of your costume? We've only got a few minutes before it's bedtime." "Okay," Daria said, reluctantly dragging her feet down the hallway. Camille threw her keys on the table and stalked into the kitchen. "You want something?" "Oh, no thanks." Lexie slid up onto the counter and watched her friend fill a glass of water from the refrigerator. "Where's your mom?" Off-handedly Camille shrugged. "Some party." Lexie sat for a moment, watching her friend take a drink, and then she shook her head. "Daria's lucky to have you." Wordlessly Camille scrounged around the kitchen for something to eat, praying that Lexie would quit being so sentimental. Life wasn't great, but as long she kept moving and didn't think about it too much, it was at least bearable. "You sure you don't want something?" Slowly Lexie shook her head. "No, I don't want anything."
"I had fun tonight," Jaylon said, knowing that was what he was supposed to say. "Yeah, it was okay for a high school party." Ariana was still using that sweeping walk that annoyed Jaylon to no end, but he focused his gaze on her front door and fought to pretend that nothing between them had changed. "I'm sure the parties at Julliard will be ten times better though," she said. At her door she turned to him and reached up to run both sets of fingers through his hair. "We're going to have so much fun there. I can't wait." Her gaze fell back to
his, and he forced a smile onto his face. "Yeah, I can't either." "First thing today," Mrs. Allen said on Tuesday afternoon as she sat on the edge of the stage, "I've gotten the play choices in for the Spring production." A ripple of excitement rolled through the auditorium. "I want each of you to read all three by next Friday. You don't have to do any analyzing, just read them, get a feel for each one, and we will take a vote about which one we want to do. You need to remember that I will choose the one we ultimately do, but I want you all to have some say as well." She pulled herself up and dusted her hands off. "Okay. We're going to work on some more improv today." Camille sank deeper into her seat. Why couldn't the semester just be over already? "The object of this exercise is to catch and hold the audiences' attention with a pitch for some kind of product. It might be a household cleaner or a garden tool or any one of a number of other products. You will be competing against another salesperson who will be pitching his or her product simultaneously. "We'll do one test run to show you what I mean, and then the audience will be asked to judge which salesman stays and which one is sent packing." Mrs. Allen stopped and looked out across her students. "Tony, why don't you and Keane come on up?" The two boys stood and made their way up the stage steps. Mrs. Allen positioned them about midway back on the stage and then backed away. "Okay. You've got 30 seconds. Go." "This is the best chainsaw on the market today," Keane said. "Hate those nasty orange stains on your shower? Want them gone? Here's Stain-b-gone, the newest most remarkable shower cleaner ever." "Filling up a gas can and trying to fill a chainsaw is messy and dangerous. This new chainsaw operates not on gasoline, but on electricity. It has a fully rechargeable battery which will run for..." "Time," Mrs. Allen called, and instantly both boys deflated. She looked out into the audience. "Got the idea?" Several students nodded. She looked back at her guinea pigs on stage. "Okay. You may choose a new product or you may keep the same one and try again. Ready?" Both contestants nodded as though they were standing in the starting blocks. "Go." "I'll bet every student has done this... gone to your locker, opened it up, and wham, books, papers, pens, supplies everywhere," Keane said, and this time his voice was a notch louder. "Don't waste another moment sitting in class," Tony said. "Now, the makers of Clone-a-Kid have just what you need. Yes, a perfect replica of you, fashioned right down to your smelly gym shoes. Teachers won't be able to tell the difference." "Now to the rescue comes the unbelievable Locker Genie..." "In fact, the Clone-a-Kid can be used for many other purposes as well... holiday with the family? Let your Clone-a-Kid go. Awful blind date? Clone-a-Kid will get you right out of it..." "Stop." Mrs. Allen held up her hands. "Which one was more convincing?" Tony's name rang out, and Mrs. Allen smiled at Keane. "Nice try. Who's next?" "I'll do it," Nick said, vaulting out of the seat next to Camille even as she disappeared farther into the darkness. Jauntily Nick stepped to center stage. "Ready?" Mrs. Allen asked, and both of them nodded. "Go." "Dances will never be the same again after you try the all-new Wavy Wax," Nick said. "Yes, that's right. One coat and you will be spinning like an expert." "...tree branches in your way? Try Branch-B-Gone..." In amazement Camille watched as Nick spun into a break dance rendition that would've left the Solid Gold Dancers breathless. Then once again he was standing. "Wavy Wax can make even the most inept dancer become John Travolta on a good day." "Stop," Mrs. Allen said, holding up her hands. "Nick," most of the audience yelled. Tony shrugged and departed the stage. "Next? How about you Mark?" Three challengers went down to Nick who successfully sold soap that cleans without water, a computer that writes English papers, and a swing that swings itself-so you don't have to waste your energy. When Mrs. Allen called for another challenger, Jaylon stood and swaggered to the stage. In her seat, Camille's breath caught. How was it possible that anyone could be that gorgeous? It just wasn't fair to the rest of the population. "Go," Mrs. Allen said. "Stop wasting time searching for your remote control," Nick started as he frantically pulled cushions off an imaginary couch. "The Remote Magnet is the answer to all your troubles..." Next to Nick, Jaylon shrugged out of his black leather jacket and struck a model's pose wordlessly. Two camera clicks and he shifted the coat to the other shoulder and struck a different pose even as Nick continued to expound on the benefits of the Remote Magnet. Camille's gaze was firmly locked on Jaylon. He could be a model in her magazine any day. "Stop," Mrs. Allen said. "Jaylon," several students called. With a confused look, Mrs. Allen gazed at the students. "What was he selling?" "Who cares?" one of the girls next to Camille asked, and Camille laughed softly. "His leather jacket," someone else said. "Is that right?" Mrs. Allen asked, and Jaylon laid his head to the side demurely. "Okay. Well, nice run, Nick." In a huff Nick exited the stage as Jill was called up to challenge Jaylon. Nick sat down next to Camille in a heap. "Good job," she said as the battle of products started on the stage again. "I hate him." Camille looked at Nick with sympathy. "I know." "Stop," Mrs. Allen said, and once again the audience chose Jaylon. It was hard not to. He had a way of capturing and holding your attention without you even realizing he had it. "Ari, why don't you be our next challenger?" With a dramatic yawn, Ariana stood from her seat and every step she took across the front row and up the stage was measured to attract the most attention possible. She strode to center stage, overtaking even Jaylon's place. Camille watched as he slid to the side so that Ariana had two-thirds of the stage, and he was left with the remainder. "Go." "Make-up. Make-up, everywhere," Ariana said in her best, practiced stage voice. "Have you ever wished you could just carry it all with you? Out on a date? Into class..." "You know them--those people, annoying and obnoxious," Jaylon said from his portion of the stage as though he and the audience were having their own private conversation. "All you want to do is get rid of them. Erase them from your life. Well, now you can! With this." He held up an invisible can that looked very much like Raid. "Just spray it on." Camille couldn't stop her laughter as he stepped over to Ariana and began spraying her with the contents of his product. "...it's an all-in-one," Ariana continued, but her sales pitch had been thrown off track by Jaylon's theatrics around her coupled with the raucous laughter from the audience. "Would you stop it? ... Yes, ladies, you will never again have to... Quit it!" "Stop," Mrs. Allen called. "Jaylon!" the whole audience roared. "That's one way to get rid of her," Nick said under his breath as Ariana exited the stage in a huff. "Now if we could just get a bottle for him." Camille choked back her remaining laughs as she tried to regain her composure. "Let's see. Who do we lack?" Mrs. Allen asked from the stage. "Camille. How about you come try it?" In one breath all her laughter was gone. "Go get him, Tiger," Nick said, but Camille could tell that he knew she was dead meat just by the tone in his voice. She stood and walked to the stage as anger and defiance replaced her fear. She was tired of being humiliated by this whole process. Once on center stage, she reached up and repositioned her glasses without so much as glancing at Jaylon. Although it wanted to, she wouldn't let her gaze travel over the waiting faces of her audience. Instead she focused on the very empty back row. "Go." "I hold in my hand the answer to every math question you've ever had," Camille said, surveying the invisible palm-sized gadget in her hand. "Yes, you heard me right, friends-the answer to every math question ever. And I'm not just talking about a calculator...oh, no. This little beauty is better." "...tennis shoes are state-of-the-art..." "How much better you ask? Normal everyday calculators only give you the answer if you know the right way to work a problem." "...here's our spokesman, Michael Jordan..." "With this Answer Wizard, all you do is type the actual problem into it, and it will give you not only the answer, but it gives you every step along the way to solve it." "...can be used for basketball, track..." "Even algebraic letters are no problem for the Answer Wizard. 2a x 3 = 42?" She punched the buttons on the gadget. "A equals seven. Just like magic..." "Stop." "Camille!" Her name sounded out through the auditorium just as the bell rang. Immediately her gaze fell from the back row to the amazed faces fanned out in front of her. "Good job, everyone!" Mrs. Allen called over the departing students. "Oh, don't forget to grab a play book!" "So, how can I get one of those Answer Wizards?" Jaylon asked, sliding up beside her as he pulled his jacket back on, and Camille's face went hot. "I'll trade you for some of your Obnoxious Person Spray." "Oh, yeah? Got anyone in mind to use it on?" Together they walked to the edge of the stage. He bent down, picked up two scripts, and handed her one. "Oh, you know. There's always somebody I'd like to make disappear," Camille said, thinking the number one person was herself. "So, how was Daria's costume?" he asked as he followed her down the stage steps. "Great," Camille said with a sincere smile. "We've got enough candy for a small army, but she had fun." Jaylon nodded. "That's good. I really had..." "Hey, Jaylon, are you coming already?" Ariana asked from the front row, and the anger in her voice and her stance was not lost on Camille. Camille's gaze fell to the carpet. "I'd better let you go." "Yeah," he said reluctantly. "I'll catch you later." "Later," Camille said with the slightest of waves, and she watched as he put his arm around Ariana and disappeared with her up the aisle. "Way to go, Wright," Nick said, holding a hand up for her to slap. "Dethroning the king. Impressive." She shook her head. "It was a fluke." "Fluke or not you were great." "Well, don't get too excited. I'll probably be back on my face tomorrow," she said, but the fact that she had actually not choked while on the stage carried her right out of the auditorium and through the rest of the night. It was a great feeling.
"Jeez. What's up with you?" he asked, and he pushed the script into his pocket as they turned the corner and started for their lockers. "Me?" In a blink Ariana turned on him. "You humiliated me-on stage, and you have the nerve to ask me what's wrong with me?" She was practically shrieking, and Jaylon glanced around him wishing they could do this somewhere else. A fight with Ariana was bad enough, but right in the middle of the school's hallway was far worse. "I'm sorry," he said, pushing his own anger down. "I thought it was funny." "Well, it wasn't." On her heel she turned and stalked down the hallway. He stood for one more heartbeat and then followed her, knowing he had to but not really wanting to all the same. He came abreast of her again just as she got to her locker. "I really am sorry. I wasn't trying to make you mad." "Yeah? Well, you did." With a clang she opened her locker, slamming it into the one next to it. "So, is that really what you think? That I'm obnoxious?" "It was a joke," he said. "A joke." "Ha. Ha," she said like the grim reaper. She slammed her locker closed, causing him to jump. "Don't worry... I'll find my own way home." And with that he was left standing at the lockers for the first time in three years.
He turned onto the little dirt road and stopped just yards from the slope. Somehow he had to find a way to get his head screwed back onto his shoulders again. It wasn't really clear how, but some time in the last month or so it had somehow come loose. That was the only rational explanation for the rash act of spraying Obnoxious Person spray on Ariana in front of an entire audience of their peers. Hearing the swish of the tall yellow weeds brush across his pant leg, he walked right to the slope edge and sat down. The water below whispered up to him, and he pulled in a slow breath. Ariana. She had been at his side since their first cold reading freshman year. Even then she was beautiful. Her near-black hair falling in continuous motion down her shoulders and all the way to the small waist she prided herself on. It was the hair as well as her body that had first attracted him. That and the unwavering determination that followed her like a cloud. She was so sure of herself, it was hard not to get caught up in that confidence when you stood in her presence. At least that's how it used to be. Until this year. This year her confidence had become more like conceit. Slowly he leaned onto the roots of the huge oak tree. His thought waves slipped from Ariana to his own actions, and conceit and arrogance were staring him squarely in the face. In truth, he didn't feel like he was better than his classmates. Truth be told, he felt like he was constantly playing catch-up. Ariana had Julliard. Seth had cars. And all he had was a few kids down at the youth center and an ego the size of New York City. Suddenly the question in his mind was not why he was going with Ariana, but why she would want to be with him. He wouldn't want to be with him. His gaze fell to the brush-covered bank below. Unconsciously he put his hand into his pocket where it met up with the script. With a sigh he pulled it out and scanned it. 'Don't Listen to the Fates.' It was easier than thinking. Pushing everything else from his mind, he huddled into the tree and disappeared into the fantasy world of the playwright's mind.
"Heard what?" Camille asked even as her gaze continued to scan the formulas she would need for the Physics test the next period. "Jaylon and Ariana broke up yesterday." The news crashed onto the table in front of Camille like a guided missile. "What?" "Yeah, they had this huge fight in the middle of the hall after school yesterday, and she dumped him." Camille's skeptical side jumped to the forefront. "Why would she do something like that?" Lexie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess she got tired of hanging out with a gorgeous, perfect guy." "Why thank you," Nick said, sliding into the seat next to Lexie. She smiled at him. "In your dreams." "No, in yours," he said, snuggling in next to her. At another time, Camille would've been wishing for the ground to swallow her and take her out of her misery, but at the moment, nothing other than the bomb blast that had just hit was getting through. They broke up. They broke up. How could they have broken up? What could Ariana possibly be thinking? She couldn't be. That was more than clear. To break up with Jaylon Quinn was nothing short of certifiable insanity. "So, Camille, have you read the play yet?" Nick asked, forking through his meatloaf. "I read the mystery last night," Camille said, still struggling through the news. "It's okay." She shrugged. "But I don't really know a whole lot about choosing plays." "Well, I read the farce. It wasn't as great as I thought it was going to be. It's kind of corny." "Isn't a farce supposed to be corny?" Camille asked. Nick leveled his fork at her. "You've got a point there. I don't know. I just can't see us worrying about a villain that wouldn't know his head from a hole in the ground. Although, you know, I think we have the perfect person to play that part." Camille glanced up, and just passed Nick's shoulder, she caught sight of Jaylon who had just stepped into the cafeteria. He looked tired-like the light inside him had been extinguished. Without willing it to, her heart slowed in her chest. It was obvious he was in pain, and as she looked around the cafeteria at the whisperings of the other students, she knew why. The pieces of his glass house were scattered around him, and the core that was left was exposed, wounded, and bleeding. "Maybe the other one is better," she said, wishing her gaze could tear itself away from his face. Finally she forced it down onto her tray although truthfully his face was still right behind her eyelids every time she blinked. "There's nowhere to go from here but up."
"I thought it was kind of cute. Very 'She's All That,'" Tessa who sat on the other side of Ariana said. Briefly Jaylon wondered when Tessa and Ari had become such good friends. He couldn't recall ever even talking to Tessa. More to the point, he couldn't recall Ariana ever saying more than a word or two to the girl. But it was difficult to challenge what was right in front of his eyes. They were locked in a conversation like friends from preschool. "But it's been done a thousand times," Ariana continued to complain. "Why can't we do something bigger-more theatre?" "Like what? Dr. Zhivago?" "Oh, I'd make such a good Laura. Don't you think?" In a heartbeat Ariana was spinning plans to recreate winter land Russia across the expanse of their high school stage. "I don't think our set designers could pull something like that off," Tessa said skeptically. "Yeah, but it's a challenge. Nobody around here understands what it's like to want to be challenged in a role. This stuff is all just so high school." 'What's wrong with that?' Jaylon wanted to scream at her. 'We're in high school. Remember?' But Ariana had already graduated to costume designing her fantasy play. He slunk down in his seat. How many times had he sounded just like that? It was humiliating. He had never been so grateful to see Mrs. Allen in his life. Breathing wouldn't be such a bad thing to practice today. "Good afternoon," she said cheerfully. Mumbles circulated through the auditorium. "I wanted to remind you of a couple of on-going assignments, lest you get too involved in all of our other excitement and forget. First, there's the play choice. We will be taking a vote on the play choice next Friday, so you will need to have read each selection before then." "Can we choose none of the above?" Ariana said softly, causing Tessa to laugh and Jaylon to slide further into his seat. "The other assignment is the analysis of two community plays. There is a performance of 'True North' at the Ashcroft Theatre next weekend. Some of you haven't turned in even one of these assignments, and I don't want to alarm you, but you're beginning to run out of time." Jaylon's thoughts slipped from the auditorium to a theatre row two seats back from a fall of soft, light brown hair. He hadn't seen enough of 'My Fair Lady' to write anything resembling a descent review of it. Mentally he checked through his schedule. It had suddenly become very free. On his mental notebook he penciled in 'True North' for the next weekend. "We're going to work on concentration today," Mrs. Allen said, pulling the students forward with her arms. "Come on up." Without waiting for Ariana like he usually did, Jaylon stood and walked over to the stage steps. He couldn't remember a time when he'd hated being on stage, but today the lights seemed brighter and hotter, and he could feel his fellow students' gazes fall on him and then turn away as they had all day. Here, there was no shield from those gazes, no shelter, and instinctively he pushed the pockets of his jacket around him tighter, trying to deflect the insinuation of those glances. "Please, have a seat in a circle," Mrs. Allen said. In a heap Jaylon sat down and trained his gaze to the small boards that formed the stage. He felt like a piece of meat hung in the butcher's window for inspection. Conspicuous. That was a good word for it. His mind traced back through his lifetime, and with the one exception of being at home, he couldn't remember ever not wanting people to take notice of him. However, he'd had enough practice blending into the woodwork at home that becoming invisible here should be easy. "The object of this exercise is relatively simple," Mrs. Allen said. "You are to tell a story in one continuous string. However, you only get to tell one piece of that story. We'll start over here with Nick, and when I say, 'Change,' the next person in the circle is to pick up the story on the word the person before left off. "Please concentrate." Mrs. Allen pulled a stool over to one edge of the circle. "Okay, Nick. Start us out." "Last night I went to the store where I saw..." "Change." For a split second no one said anything, and Jaylon's gaze went to Nick's side. In the space of the remainder of that second his heart lifted. "…a purple and green monster with white flecks," Camille said conspiratorially, and Jaylon laughed at the serious look that was scrunched on her face. She could have easily been explaining a space-time continuum to an entire group of scientists. "He stepped around the corner, looked at me and said, '..." "Change." "'Take me to your leader,'" Mark said menacingly. "Change." "I didn't know what to do," Stephanie said in a petrified voice. "So, I turned around and..." "Change." "Hit him with a round kick right to his stomach," Keane said. "Change." Tony exhaled. "Let me tell you, that big ol' purple monster with green and white spots doubled over like a folded pastry. He started..." "Change." "Choking and coughing. And he said, '..." "Change." Instead of saying something, bug-eyed, Jaylon clutched his throat and made strangling noises. "Change." "Are you choking?" Cathy asked Jaylon. "Change." On the other side of Cathy, Darrin nodded desperately. "Change." "Now I ask you, have you ever done the Heimlich maneuver on a seven-foot green and purple monster?" Tessa asked dramatically. "Let me tell you it's..." "Change." "Lame," Ariana said in annoyance. "Lame. Lame. Lame." "Change." "But it's not as easy as it looks," Garrett said, taking up where Tessa left off. "I couldn't very well leave him like that, so I..." "Change." "...wrapped my arms around his slimy midsection..." "Change." "...and I pulled both hands toward me..." "Change." "Ugh. This pukey yellow slime stuff came up out of that monster's mouth..." "Change." " ...and you've never seen such a mess." "Change." "I spent all night cleaning the yellow slime off of my Air Jordans." "Change." "So, you see, Teacher, that's why I'm late this morning." "Change." "Now that will count as an excused absence. Won't it?" Nick asked as the group started laughing around him. "Very nice," Mrs. Allen said, standing. "Except for the yellow slime part. That's just gross." Jaylon laughed along with everyone else and slowly slid his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. "Okay, let's start over with Jaylon this time," Mrs. Allen said, and incredibly when the gazes found him, he sat up straighter not beaten down by them at all. "Have you ever walked through a forest by yourself at night?" he asked, effortlessly setting an instant picture in the minds of every student there with his tone.
"You going to get a different play?" Nick asked Camille two steps in front of Jaylon, and he wished he could be up there asking her that question himself. "Yeah," she said. "Or maybe we could just switch. That'd be easier than fighting the mob." "Now, there's a good idea," Nick said. They turned toward up the center aisle, and together they disappeared into the dimness of the auditorium. With a sigh, Jaylon walked to his own seat in the front row and gathered his books. He too needed to get a different play. Unfortunately, he no longer had anyone to "just switch with." In no great hurry to get out, he waited for the crowd around the scripts to dissipate before he ventured up to the stage. "Jaylon," Mrs. Allen said when she caught sight of him, "just the person I've been meaning to talk to." Nonchalantly, Jaylon threw one script into the sea of them on the stage. "Oh, yeah? What about?" "Well, Ariana came by and picked up her recommendation last week, I was wondering when you'd be by to get yours." "Oh." He slid the new script in with his other books. "I'm not so sure I need it anymore." "You don't need it?" Mrs. Allen asked with concern. "Why not?" He shrugged, fighting not to let the overwhelming depression catch up with him. "I'm kind of having second thoughts about Julliard." Mrs. Allen shook her head. "You're not getting cold feet are you?" "More like frozen ones." "Want to talk about it?" For a long moment he considered her offer, but he had no idea what to tell her. It was all just one jumbled, confusing mess as far as he could tell. "It's stupid." "Stupid's a pretty broad assessment. Mind if I ask for something more specific." Jaylon exhaled. "Ari and I are just in different places with this thing. She wants to be the lead on some Broadway stage." "And you?" "I don't know." He shrugged as his father's voice stomped through his brain, 'Acting isn't something you do for a profession. Acting is a hobby at best, a waste of time...' "I guess I'm just not sure that's really what I want anymore." "Oh," Mrs. Allen said with a knowing nod. "Well, you know, there are other schools with excellent Theatre Arts programs." "Yeah. I know." "That is if you're still interested in pursuing acting." He smiled slightly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll try my hand at rocket-science." When Mrs. Allen arched a skeptical eyebrow, Jaylon laughed. "I know stick with something you don't completely suck at." "You know." Mrs. Allen slid her legs off the stage and swung them in front of her. "I think one of the most important decisions of your life is what you decide to do for your life's work. It's a decision a lot of people have made for them because they just follow the track they seem to be on at the time they graduate from high school. "Then they get to college and sometimes they find out they made the wrong choice for themselves because they were listening to everybody else's idea of what they should do. Now you know I'm not going to tell you that you don't have talent on a stage because you do, but I'm also not going to tell you that that's the only career path you have open to you." All he wanted to do was leave, forget life decisions, forget the future, forget everything, and just leave. "No question money is a factor in making that decision, but so is doing something you love to do. Not something you like-something you love. Something that makes you feel alive. Something you could do 26 hours a day and never get tired of it. Regardless of what everybody else says-that's the thing you should pursue. Think about it, okay? And I'm here to talk if you need me." "Thanks, Mrs. Allen," he said, truly feeling the appreciation although it only barely made it into his tone. "Anytime." She stood on the stage. "Oh, what did you think of Hawk?" "Hawk?" She nodded at the script he'd just laid on the top of the other scripts. "From 'Don't Listen.' He's a little like someone else I know." Her smile was teasing. "We'll see." "Yeah," he said off-handedly as he backed away from the stage. "See you tomorrow." "Take care, and think about what I said." "As always," he said, and then he forced his feet to turn up the small incline and carry him to the back of the room. At the door he stopped just before he pushed out and looked back at the stage. 'You need to be where you feel truly alive.' With a half smile mixed generously with a small laugh, he pushed out into the hallway. Leaving acting, walking away and never coming back would be like driving a stake right through his heart, but fighting for that dream might smother the life right out of him as well, and in the end he would have the same thing anyway. Nothing. |